When the desktop icon finally appeared—a stylized silver wing—Jax didn't hesitate. He launched the executable. The screen went pitch black. Then, a low hum vibrated through his desk, growing into a deafening roar of jet engines.

He looked down. He wasn't wearing his coffee-stained hoodie anymore. He was encased in sleek, white-and-gold ceramic armor. In his right hand, a heavy mechanical blade hummed with energy; in his left, a long-barreled pistol etched with glowing runes.

A text prompt flickered in the center of the darkness: SYNCING PILOT BIOMETRICS.

Across the platform, a massive shadow detached itself from the clouds. It was a mechanical beast, a nightmare of rusted gears and glowing red sensors.