There was no warmth in the demon realm — only heat.
The kind that hissed through vents, radiated from wires, and clung to the walls like invisible oil. Kaiden lay motionless on a metal slab, stripped to his waist, core exposed. The open panel in his chest ticked softly, like a bomb waiting for someone to forget it existed.
Above him, mechanical arms moved with surgical indifference. One re-threaded a wire into his spine. Another sealed shut a cracked panel over his ribs.
Somewhere off to the side, two demon engineers muttered.
"Core drift is increasing."
"Left-side integration's degrading faster than expected."
"Weapon K-01 is unlikely to survive extended deployment without loss of function."
Kaiden's eyes twitched, but his body didn't move. They'd locked his motor system during the repair — a "safety protocol." He could hear everything. Feel everything. But he couldn't speak.
"Another rushed unit," one of them said. "They're wasting good scrap."
He wanted to rip their throats out.
Instead, he stared at the ceiling and counted the seconds it took his rage to cool.
________________________________________
Later, he sat in a dark corner of his assigned chamber, legs crossed, back against cold stone. His left arm was gone — not replaced, just capped with a dull plate over a mechanical stump. It sparked occasionally.
His remaining hand flexed slowly. Controlled.
One movement at a time.
"Not broken," he muttered.
He repeated it. Again. Louder. "Not broken."
The words didn't help.
The moment they reactivated him, he'd felt it: something wrong in his body. His balance was off. His field of vision occasionally shook. Once, for a full three seconds, his right hand refused to obey a command.
Then came the memory.
Or maybe it was a dream. A glitch.
It started as static in his vision. A flicker. Then: the train station. The last moment before death.
But not from his eyes.
He saw himself — his body — mangled and twitching on the tracks, as if from outside himself.
And then…
Darkness.
Something dragging him through. A force like gravity, but sideways. Not just death.
A summoning.
He woke with a start.
Even now, hours later, the image lingered. That couldn't be real. He wasn't summoned. He was rebuilt after death, right?
He stared at his own reflection in the darkened steel plating across from him.
"I wasn't… chosen," he whispered.
But what if he had been?
What if something went wrong?
________________________________________
The door opened with a mechanical hiss. The demon commander stood framed in the red hallway light.
Kaiden stood slowly. Carefully.
The commander didn't waste words.
"You've been reassigned."
Kaiden raised an eyebrow. "I'm missing an arm."
"You have legs. A core. And half your brain. That's more than most."
Kaiden's eye narrowed. "And if I say I'm not ready?"
"Then we'll replace you with someone who bleeds less."
Kaiden held his stare.
But he said nothing.
The commander turned, already walking away. "Field deployment. Small border force. You'll serve, or you'll rot. Either way, something gets tested."
The door closed.
Kaiden didn't move for a long time.
________________________________________
He spent the next hour pushing his systems to their limit. Simple commands: walk. Stop. Turn. Flex. Lift.
Each action came slower than it should.
He could feel the hesitation in the limbs. Not his own.
Not fully.
Then, suddenly — without warning — his body froze.
Mid-step.
His knee locked. His arm stiffened. His vision held on a single frame.
He couldn't move.
He was awake. Conscious. Panicking.
But his body ignored him.
Ten seconds.
Then it passed.
He collapsed to one knee, gasping for air he didn't need, as sparks danced down his spine.
He looked down at his fingers.
They twitched.
"I'm not in control," he whispered.
"Not fully."
His reflection in the wall stared back — one human eye. One machine.
He wanted to scream.
But instead, he just sat there.
Watching his own hands move.
And wondering who they truly belonged to.