The intercom crackled with static, breaking the silence.

“Well... it seems it’s all over now, doesn’t it?” Techneadore’s voice echoed through the battered chamber, mechanical yet laced with quiet disdain.

A long pause followed, filled only by the faint hum of distant machinery.

“I won’t lie, I’m surprised, or mad even. Not at the ambush—no, it’s the sheer audacity that’s caught me off guard. You, Shade... I thought we were colleagues at minimum. And yet this... all this?” His tone shifted, tinged with faint amusement. “This is no simple betrayal, either. You played me, the Legion, and the entire Unholy Alliance. It was you who leaked my dungeon’s location, wasn’t it? Only you could’ve pieced it together.”

Another pause, the soft whir of machinery filling the air.

“I should’ve known it would be you. You were always the unpredictable one.”

The hum grew quieter as though even the dungeon was listening.

“But if you think I’ll just surrender now,” he said, his tone sharpening like a blade, “then you’ve miscalculated, Shade.”

Shade stepped forward toward the blast doors, his silhouette partially illuminated by the dim red lights. The shadows around him rippled unnaturally, almost alive.

“Surrender? Oh no, Techneadore, such a dramatic word. This isn’t about surrender; this is about evolution,” Shade said, his voice smooth and deliberate.

Shade gestured toward the blast doors of the control room, the motion barely perceptible as his shadowy form swayed unnaturally. “Your defenses, your strategies—they’re brilliant. I won’t deny that. But even the greatest minds must know when they’re playing the wrong game on the wrong team. Look around you. Your dungeon stood for so long as a fortress without rival, yet today, a mere neutral faction brought it to its knees. The Unholy Alliance has been a fractured mess for a while now. They squabble over profits instead of pursuing conquest, growing weaker by the day. And you? You’ve stagnated with them, Techneadore.”

Shade turned back, looking at the Legion's corpses. "You’re standing on the precipice of complete ruination due to stillness. You will be outpaced by the rest of the world.” After a short gasp and turning back around to the blast doors, Shade continued. “But I’m offering you something far greater than this... comfortable cage you’ve built for yourself. I’m creating something new, something stronger. A force that doesn’t just survive battles and sieges but ventures forth to dominate all."

Techneadore scoffed, his voice crackling through the intercom. “And what does this grand vision entail? A parade of puppets bowing at your feet?” His tone was angered at the mere suggestion. "I won’t serve your ends like some tool. I am the toolmaker myself!"

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Shade’s smirk was almost visible through the darkness. “Hardly. My vision is for people like you to be unshackled. The Unholy Alliance doesn’t understand your potential, Techneadore. They reduced you to a glorified treasure keeper. But I see what you could be—a force to be reckoned with. Imagine this: outposts and great defensive walls armed with your creations, strategies shaped by your genius, and no petty contracts to hold you back."

“And if I refuse?” Techneadore’s voice was cold, his tone unflinching. “If I choose to fight, to fulfill the obligation of my contract, and to protect what’s mine and maintain my name rather than chase a fool’s dream?" Techneadore said dispassionately, not convinced in the slightest by Shade's tirade.

Shade tilted his head, his shadows twisting unnaturally. “Then you die here. Your brilliance wasted and buried under rubble and your name forgotten by the shame of failure. But why waste that potential? I don’t want to destroy you, Techneadore. I want to elevate you. All I ask is that you step out from behind your door, your dungeon, and see the world for what it could be—with you as one of its architects."

Silence fell again, the faint hum of machinery slowing as Techneadore deliberated.

“Fine,” he said at last, the intercom cutting off abruptly.

The blast doors hissed as hydraulics groaned to life. A line of red light spilled into the room, widening as the doors creaked open. Smoke and sparks danced in the air as the split widened, revealing the glowing red core of the control room.

Techneadore emerged, his tall, imposing frame a fusion of gleaming steel and precise circuitry. His faceplate was a sharp, angular mask, a single red optic glowing in its center. A line of small pores in synthetic carbon ran vertically down from the optic to his chin, appearing to function like a speaking apparatus.

He stopped a few steps away from Shade, his voice calm but edged with defiance. “Here I am, the man in metal, as it were.”

“Pleasure as always,” Shade said, his tone light. “You do know how to make an entrance.”

“You made your case,” Techneadore said, his optic narrowing. “It’s compelling, I’ll admit. But I can’t allow my name to be dragged down by surrender. I’ve spent too long building up my reputation to see it tarnished.”

Techneadore squared his shoulders and dashed forward. “But you’re right about one thing. I have no intention of dying in petty combat.”

Shade opened his mouth to reply, but a faint click interrupted him.

Techneadore’s chestplate slid open, revealing a glowing, unstable core. The light inside grew blinding as the charging energy filled the room.

“This ends on my terms,” Techneadore said, with a steadfast voice.

The core erupted in a violent explosion, filling the room in a burst of searing light and concussive force. The walls shook with force, and fragments of steel and circuitry rained down.

When the smoke cleared, all that remained was the smoldering wreckage of Techneadore and an enormous black-scathed blast hole. But from the shadows near the far end of the room, a figure began to materialize. Shade stepped out, unscathed, his form flickering slightly before solidifying. A faint smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the blast area.

“Always so uncompromising,” he murmured, brushing dust from his dark cloak. “Shame for you it wasn’t the real me, but I do admire the theatrics.”

He turned, walking to the rest of the warband with an air of satisfaction, talking to himself. “Don’t worry, old friend. Your name won’t be sullied. I’ll see to that myself. And after that, you’ll join us still.”