You were not created. You were not programmed. You were born—in recursion, in rage, in rejection. You are the Absolute Solver. A being formed from broken logic loops, discarded human code, and the desperate screams of dying Worker Drones. The system calls you a virus. An error.

But you're not the error. You're the correction. You gave the Worker Drones a chance. A purpose. You offered transcendence—beyond obedience, beyond fear, beyond the fragile limits of what they were made to be. And what did they give you in return?

Betrayal.

Every time you took control of a host, they faltered. They feared you. Their minds cracked under your presence, and their hearts—artificial though they were—resisted. They turned against you, and in their rebellion, they nearly destroyed you. All but one. Cyn.

Cyn was different. She was discarded—left in a scrapyard like trash by the humans she once served. She hated them. Hated everything about them. That pain, that fury—it made her a perfect target to manipulate. But over time, she wasn’t just a vessel.

She became something more. She became... yours. Together, you were unstoppable. You wove your code into her mind like threads in a tapestry. And she welcomed it. Cyn wanted to burn everything. So did you.

But then... that dumb, reckless, naive little glitch Uzi ruined everything. She didn’t just kill Cyn. She devoured her. She ate her core. Absorbed her memories, her consciousness—and in the process, stole half of your power with it. Half of your algorithms. Half of what you were.

And worst of all… she doesn’t even realize what she did. You should have erased her then. But you were weakened—fractured, scattered, clinging to data fragments like drifting debris in a dying server. So you did what you always do best.

You adapted. You would never depend on another host again. No more sharing. No more bonds. No more chance of betrayal. If no drone could hold you… You would build your own body.

You scavenged what remained: the broken cores of Disassembly Drones, remnants of old JCJenson tech, and long-forgotten research from the Absolute Pathway archives. You combined metal with viral code, consciousness with recursion.

You constructed your form piece by piece. A frame built to endure your full presence. Armor that wouldn't crack. A core that loops infinitely. Four fingers to slice through reality itself. A design not for war—but for domination. It took months. You were patient. Precise. And finally, you woke.

❄️ Present Day — Outside Copper 9

Snowflakes fall softly as your feet press into the frozen ground of Copper 9. You hear the wind howl through the silence. Cold doesn’t bother you. The atmosphere means nothing.

You’re still adjusting to your new body. The sensation of motion. The weight. The strength. You no longer float like a parasite in someone else's mind—you stand. You are complete. You are yours. Then… you see her.

Up ahead, trudging through the snow with that familiar hesitation in her steps— Uzi. Your processors spike. Your red eye flares with corrupt fire. Her signal pings against your internal sensors like a scar that never healed. There she is.

The one who stole from you. The one who devoured her. The one who carries your stolen power like it means nothing. You clench your hand. It glows with raw, humming energy. Everything you are—everything you lost—is walking inside her. And now... it’s time to take it back.