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Typhon. A frontline nightmare where the Frontier Militia fought a desperate war of attrition against the IMC.
Kael looked at the Vanguard-class Titan—BT-7274—looming before him and let out a long, ragged breath. He reached for a glowing Titan battery from his rig, leaned into the chassis, and slammed it into the side slot.
As the energy surged through the machine's core, BT seemed to shiver back to life. The heavy grind of motorized joints echoed through the alien clearing, followed by the calm, synthesized baritone of the AI.
"Power at two-thirds. Data core re-initializing. Visual system—active."
BT attempted to stand, but the structural damage from the previous drop made the massive machine sway. It knelt back down, its single ocular sensor whirring as it recalibrated.
"Adjusting focus."
The blue light of the module gazed at Kael, cross-referencing biometric data to verify his identity. After a beat, it spoke again. "Are you unharmed, Pilot?"
"How should I put it? I'm still breathing, so I guess that's a win," Kael shrugged. The physical bruises were nothing compared to the psychological toll of being hunted by IMC Stalkers across a hostile planet.
"Introduce yourself, BT. Let's get the formalities out of the way."
"I am BT-7274. Vanguard-class Titan, assigned to the Militia SRS Marauder Corps. You may call me BT."
"Hello, BT. I'm Kael."
"My system is restarting. Three batteries will accelerate the process. I will wait here while you search—"
Before the AI could finish, Kael had already produced the remaining batteries and slotted them home. He had been scavenging these for days, using his "Technical Genius" trait to study their exotic power structure. Without proper lab equipment, he couldn't replicate the technology yet, but the mere contact with such advanced engineering had already boosted his technical insights.
"Accelerating restart. Please wait," BT corrected, a subtle flicker of logic-driven gratitude in its voice.
Kael sat on a nearby rock. The area was quiet. He had already cleared every IMC patrol within a three-kilometer radius. Earlier, IMC drones had been a constant nuisance, but after Kael shot down a dozen of them with his long-rifle, they had stopped venturing into this sector.
BT's self-repair protocols kicked in. Nanomachines began mending the internal circuitry and reshaping the memory-alloy plates of the chassis.
"Full power!"
BT stood up, clutching its massive XO-16 Chain Gun. Standing nearly six meters tall, the Titan radiated a sheer sense of kinetic oppression.
"Pilot, a neural link must be established before we proceed. Please board when ready."
Kael didn't hesitate. He stepped into the cockpit as the hatch hissed open. The interior was cramped but familiar, reminiscent of the high-end simulation pods back at the Arasaka Academy. He had been a Pilot reservist before the war; he knew the theory. Now, he was about to experience the reality.
The hatch sealed shut.
"Protocol 1: Link to Pilot."
"Neural linking..."
Kael's Pilot helmet established a high-bandwidth wireless connection. It felt like a "Deep Dive" in Night City—his consciousness detached from his physical body, expanding to fill the Titan's massive steel frame.
"Neural link complete. Rifleman Kael, you are confirmed as acting Pilot of BT-7274."
BT's voice now resonated directly inside Kael's mind.
"Protocol 2: Uphold the mission. Orders are to continue Special Operation 217 and rendezvous with Major Anderson."
"Protocol 3: Protect the Pilot."
Kael's senses fully synchronized. The metal walls of the cockpit seemed to turn transparent as the external sensors fed data directly into his visual cortex.
"Checking systems," Kael said, testing the Titan's range of motion. The connection was seamless—no neural lag, no rejection. "Vortex Shield? Active. Rocket pods? Green. Primary weapon link? Locked."
Suddenly, a massive signal spike flared on the HUD. An IMC Beast Titan was dropping from orbit to investigate the power surge.
"Time for a little payback, BT."
"Revenge is a counter-productive human emotion," BT replied. "However, according to combat directives, eliminating the threat is the optimal path. You are correct, Pilot."
Kael guided the machine through a stream toward the drop-zone. The sky cracked as the IMC Titan slammed into the earth.
"Resistance Titan spotted—" the IMC Pilot began to broadcast.
Kael didn't give him the chance to finish. He unleashed a volley of eight rockets. The IMC machine scrambled to raise its shield, but it was too slow. The impact drained its energy field instantly.
Kael dashed forward, ramming the Beast Titan with six tons of momentum. He leveled the chain gun at the enemy's cockpit and pulled the trigger. tungsten-tipped rounds shredded the armor, turning the Pilot inside into a red mist.
"Enemy Titan down. Well done, Pilot. Combat efficiency rating has increased."
BT sounded almost surprised. Kael didn't move like a rifleman; he moved like a veteran who had been born in a cockpit. But the victory was short-lived. More IMC recovery units were closing in.
"Pilot, rendezvous with Major Anderson is our only path to survival."
"Understood. Take the wheel, BT. I need to 'sync'."
Kael closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the White Space.
The White Space.
"A newcomer! Finally!"
Titan-Kael looked at the man in front of him—dressed in the gambeson and leather of a medieval knight—and pounced, eager to absorb new data. But after the memory transfer, he pushed the newcomer away with a look of pure disappointment.
"Tsk. Another rookie. When am I going to get a version of me that can crush an asteroid with one hand?"
"Hey, give me a break," Goblin Slayer Kael replied, adjusting his sword belt. "I have potential. My world is based on 'Idealism.' Give me time to become a god."
"Can your 'Godhood' stop a 40mm cannon?" Titan-Kael snapped. "Until then, all you've brought us is an underage body that's slightly more athletic than a civilian."
It was true. Goblin Slayer Kael was currently a "Porcelain" rank fledgling. But with the Power of Four, his potential had quadrupled. In a world governed by the dice-rolls of gods, being an anomaly was the only way to survive.
Cyber-Kael raised his hand, high-fiving Titan-Kael to complete the synchronization before the connection flickered.
Night City.
Kael opened his eyes to the soft light of his luxury apartment. Lucy was exhausted, eventually retreating to her custom bathtub to chat with Kiwi.
Kael, now showered and alert, browsed the messages from Sasha. The plan was working.
He had used Sasha to leak data on Arasaka's Project Adam to Militech. He chose her because she was bored, brilliant, and her digital footprint was currently "cleaner" than Lucy's in the corporate sector.
Militech was moving fast. They were desperate to save face after Kael's previous heist.
(Focus on Faraday,) Kael messaged Sasha. (He's the only Fixer greedy and short-sighted enough to touch a Militech-Arasaka shadow war.)
(Faraday? Maine's been taking a lot of work from him lately,) Sasha replied, her concern palpable. (You don't think the crew will get dragged in, do you?)
(Hard to say. Just keep your eyes on him. Don't let him sell you out.)
(Would you really let me get sold out, Kael?)
(Of course not. You're my favorite 'Miss Cat'.)
Kael's reply sent a flurry of data through Sasha's nervous system, making her smile so widely that Rebecca, sitting next to her, looked genuinely confused.
(Don't forget you still owe me a reward for this gig,) Sasha teased.
(I remember.)
"Kael!" Lucy's voice drifted from the bathroom. "Come help me blow-dry my hair!"
"Coming!"
Kael took a deep breath, shaking off the cosmic weight of the Multiverse, and headed toward his partner.
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