[Prologue Fragment – "Ashes of the Old World"]
"Before the world roared with iron and screamed with gears, it was quiet. Quiet in that ignorant kind of way — like a lull before the fall. Then came the downfall of humanity."
No one remembers who made it. Not clearly. Maybe it was a god. Maybe just a broken machine that looped one command too many times. But the day Worm.exe was unleashed into the global grid, everything changed.
The cities—alive with light and industry—were the first to go silent. In their place rose the Worms.
Some were mindless. Some were cruel. All of them obeyed one law: consume and persist.
It wasn't war. It wasn't rebellion. It was the old world being eaten alive from the inside out.
The survivors called it the Collapse.
Now, decades later, what's left of humanity survives in steel carcasses of old factories and towering scrapyards, their futures dangling on cables, rusted bolts, and whispered blueprints. And buried deep in the coding nightmares of the past… the Worms still evolve.
And they are not done.
---
The Riot Forge stank of rust, oil, and sweat. A tangled graveyard of mechanical guts and grinding machines that never slept. The sky above was a permanent shade of brown, choked by smoke and dust — the sun nothing more than a faded rumor. Only to be interrupted by tremors from the ground. Earthquakes were common here or so they say.
Buck's legs trembled as he stepped off the crawler-transport. Thin, scrawny, wide-eyed — the kid was fresh meat. His number, 3748, was etched into a rusted dog tag around his neck. The other slaves — criminals, runaways, orphans — didn't spare him a glance.
"Move, junk-rat!" a voice barked. A supervisor in a patched-up exo-rig shoved Buck forward. He stumbled and landed face-first into a pile of old servo motors.
The laughter was immediate.
"This one won't last a day," someone muttered.
Buck scrambled up, brushing grease from his face. His lips moved, but no words came out. His whole body screamed fragile.
He was thrown into Scrap Alley, the lowest tier of the Forge, tasked with gathering usable junk — bolts, cores, broken circuits, dead Worm parts if lucky.
Hours passed. His fingers bled from sharp metal edges. His back ached. Then — luck.
A Booster.
It was lodged between the ribs of a dead Bastion-class Worm. Small, turbine-shaped, humming weakly — a miracle.
Buck's eyes widened. He looked around. Nobody saw. He yanked it free.
"Hey!"
Too slow.
Gorran, a thick-necked supervisor with a jaw like an anvil, loomed over him.
"Well, well. That's a sweet catch." Gorran grinned. "Hand it over."
Buck hesitated. "But... I found it."
"Did you fix it?"
"N-No, but—"
"Then it's mine."
Buck's timid eyes narrowed, just slightly. "T-That's not fair!"
The Forge went silent. Whispers. A brat talking back?
Gorran's grin vanished. "You got balls, scrap-rat."
He pulled a rusted cleaver from his belt. The blade hummed.
"You've got till sunrise," he growled. "Fix the Booster. If it works — you keep it. If not... I take your head instead."
He shoved Buck into the dirt and walked off, cackling.
---
Buck sat alone in a quiet corner of the Forge, clutching the Booster like a lifeline. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Dead. I'm dead. I can't even tell a capacitor from a conduit."
A voice spoke beside him.
"Then you better find someone who can."
It was Grim, a rail-thin boy missing an eye, about Buck's age.
"There's one guy here who can fix anything."
"Who?"
Grim pointed to the far end of the Forge, where sparks flew like fireflies.
"Him."
Orion.
Seventeen. Grease-streaked, shirtless, built like a wiry machine himself. Mechanical goggles hung over wild eyes. He wore thick gloves and worked on the exposed guts of a fallen Worm, humming to himself.
"Don't touch that!" he snapped at a passing worker. "You want your fingers fused to your elbow, be my guest."
Buck approached like a mouse approaching a dragon.
"U-Um. Excuse me?"
Orion didn't look up. "Piss off."
"I... I have a Booster. I need help fixing it."
Now Orion looked.
"You? Booster?" he snorted. "You look like you'd break a spoon just by looking at it."
Buck held it out, trembling. "Please."
Orion studied him. Then the Booster.
"Where'd you get this?"
"I found it. Gorran said... if I don't fix it by tomorrow, he'll kill me."
Orion gave a low whistle. "Dramatic bastard, ain't he?"
He plucked the Booster from Buck's hands.
"This looks like it was built by dinosaurs. Well, there ain't anything I can't fix. I'll fix it bit you owe me one."
"Y-Yes!"
"And if you cry while I work, I'm welding your mouth shut."
Buck nodded furiously.
Orion set to work. His hands danced over the Booster. Soldering iron hissed. Sparks flew. He mumbled curse after curse under his breath.
"Whoever assembled this was a damn monkey. No — a blind monkey. With hooks for hands. Gah, what even is this wiring—"
Time passed.
Finally, he tossed the Booster back. "Done."
Buck stared in awe. "It's... glowing."
"Of course it is. I'm a f***ing genius."
There was it again, another quake.
"Don't interrupt me, you f***ing earthquake. Son of a b***h."
Buck could only let out an awkward chuckle.
'He really goes all out on cursing,' he thought.
---
They returned to Gorran.
The supervisor looked amused. "Well? Let's see it."
Buck activated the Booster. It hummed to life, spinning with a soft whirr.
Gorran's eyes twitched. "You—"
Orion stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Problem, Gorran?"
Gorran backed off. "Tch. Keep your damn toy."
He stormed off.
Buck turned to Orion. "T-Thank you! You saved me."
Orion scratched his head. "Don't get sappy. I only helped 'cause I hate Gorran's face."
Still, he eyed Buck curiously.
"You're interesting. Soft as clay, but not spineless. Maybe I'll teach you something."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You can be my assistant. Step one — learn to curse properly."
Buck blinked. "Huh?"
"Say it with me now: F—"
An earthquake interrupted him.
The ground rumbled.
"Again?" someone muttered. "Third time today."
But this time, it didn't stop.
Sirens blared.
"WORM SIGN!" a voice screamed. "CALAMITY CLASS!"
Orion's goggles snapped down. "Oh f***."
From the horizon, smoke billowed.
A shape emerged. Massive. Towering. A giant tortoise made of molten metal, steam pouring from vents along its back. Each step shook the earth.
Knuckle Crusher.
The Forge was in chaos. Screams. Running feet.
Buck stood frozen.
Orion grabbed his shoulder. "Move! Unless you want your bones turned into scrap!"
The last thing they saw was the Calamity raising its massive foot.
And then — silence.
---
To be continued...