Jones sat motionless at the center of the calibration chamber.
Unlike the training rooms before, this one was silent by design. No moving floors. No shifting gravity. Just a circular platform surrounded by floating holographic panels that pulsed faintly with data.
Commander Derick stood behind the glass, arms crossed.
"You endured weakness," he said through the intercom. "Now we see if you can control strength."
Jones exhaled slowly.
A soft tone echoed through the chamber as system prompts appeared in his vision.
> **SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION PROTOCOL — INITIALIZING**
> Neural alignment: 61%
> Stability: Fluctuating
"Your body has been carrying you so far," Derick continued. "From here on, you carry it."
Jones closed his eyes.
The moment he did, the world changed.
He felt his systems not as tools, but as presence—layers of response waiting for instruction. Power distribution, reflex assist, sensory amplification… all of it humming beneath his thoughts.
*So this is the threshold,* he realized.
"Begin partial override," Derick ordered.
Jones focused.
A surge rippled through his frame, sharp and brief. His muscles tensed, then relaxed as the system recalibrated around his intent instead of its own presets.
> Override accepted.
> Assist level: Manual control engaged.
Jones opened his eyes.
The room looked sharper—cleaner—but more importantly, it felt *obedient*.
"Stand," Derick said.
Jones rose smoothly, no hesitation, no overcorrection.
Derick nodded slightly.
"Now disengage."
Jones hesitated for a fraction of a second, then mentally pulled back. The assist faded.
His body remained steady.
His breath caught.
*I did that,* he thought. *Not the system.*
"Again," Derick said.
They repeated the process.
Assist on.
Assist off.
Partial.
Manual.
Each cycle burned deeper into Jones' mind, teaching him where control ended and reliance began. Mistakes happened—brief tremors, delayed responses—but each correction came faster than the last.
Sweat rolled down his neck as the strain mounted.
Synchronization climbed.
> Neural alignment: 74%
> Stability: Improving
Then Derick changed the test.
The platform tilted sharply.
Jones reacted instantly—not with raw power, but with intent. He shifted, stabilized, and compensated before the system could interfere.
For the first time, the machine followed him instead of the other way around.
Derick allowed himself a small smile.
"That," he said, "is what separates a weapon from a soldier."
The platform returned to level.
Jones stood there, chest rising and falling, his systems humming in perfect rhythm with his thoughts.
He wasn't fighting the machine anymore.
He was commanding it.
And for the first time since waking up in metal and wires, Jones felt truly whole.