Jace paced back and forth in the shadows of his ruined facility, teeth gritted, blood still drying on his jaw.
> “They want war?”
He muttered. “Fine. Let’s give them hell.”
His mind burned with plans, every step unfolding like clockwork. Enough pretending to be a warrior.
He was a Mechanic.
He was a Necromancer.
It was time the world remembered what that meant.
“April,” he said aloud. “Take control of every drone, every bot, every piece of leftover tech in the grid. I want full field coverage. Snipers on high, drones in the air, decoys in place.”
> “Acknowledged,” her voice replied. “Executing command. Syncing satellite uplinks. Diverting combat bots for rapid deployment.”
Nanobots scattered from the underground hatches, dozens of robotic soldiers rising to his command.
Min
