Building Zoids in a World of Titans

Alex gave a curt nod. The terms were efficient. He could process the boar components, get his new materials, and not add a single chit to his debt. The logic was sound.

He folded the request sheet and tucked it into his inner pocket.

“I’ll be back with the components.”

He turned for the door, his hand reaching for the worn metal handle.

The bell above the door jangled before he could touch it.

Four figures stepped into the shop, their presence shifting the air in the small space. The crimson and deep green of their combat suits was instantly recognizable.

Team Celestia.

Anya entered first, her posture straight, gaze sweeping the room with tactical assessment before landing on him. Her expression didn’t change, but her focus sharpened.

The other three filed in behind her. The one with the fiery red hair and the easy, athletic stance—Fia, he recalled from the tavern. Her eyes found him immediately, and a bright, genuine smile broke across her face.

“Hey! It’s you,” Fia said, her voice carrying a natural warmth that seemed to push back the shop’s gloom. “The quiet guy from the Stone Hearth.”

Lyra, the slender one with sharp eyes, looked him over with open curiosity. Seraphine, the medic, offered a small, polite nod, her attention already partly on the shop’s inventory.

Anya stepped forward, her movements precise. “Alex, we meet again,” she said, her tone even, acknowledging their brief encounter from yesterday. “This is my team. Fia, our close-quarters specialist. Lyra, our scout and tracker. Seraphine, our medic and support.”

"It's Alex," he said.

He gave a short nod.

Borin straightened from behind the counter. His usual gruffness had softened into a respectful nod. Ziya adjusted her apron, her professional demeanor returning.

"Team Celestia," she acknowledged. "It's an honor. What can Stonehand Supply do for Veridia's finest today?"

Anya didn’t take her eyes off Alex for a beat longer, as if confirming something, then turned to Borin. She hefted the large, rectangular Guardian’s Shield she carried under one arm and placed it on the counter with a heavy thud.

The central energy-diffuser plate was cracked, spider-webbed with fractures. Several of the reinforced Titan-alloy segments along the lower edge were bent and partially fused together from intense heat.

Anya turned to Borin.

"My shield took a beating. Can you fix it?"

Borin leaned over the shield, his thick fingers tracing the cracks. “Hmm. Overload stress, with some thermal warping on the substructure. Aye, I can fix it. Need to replace the diffuser plate and reforge these lower segments. Give me a day. It’ll be brand new tomorrow.”

Anya gave a satisfied nod. “Good. We’ll pick it up before noon.”

Fia’s attention, however, had drifted. She pointed a finger at the folded paper peeking from Alex’s jacket pocket. “Hey, you got a request? What’s it for?”

“Just a simple job.”

“Can I see it?” Fia leaned in, her curiosity bright and unguarded.

Lyra’s hand snapped out, grabbing Fia’s shoulder and pulling her back a step.

“Fi, manners. It’s rude. Don’t go being nosy in other people’s business.”

Fia blinked, then shrugged with a laugh. “Right, right. Sorry. Just excited. New jobs are fun!”

Lyra gave a small, apologetic bow of her head. “Forgive Fi. She’s… enthusiastic.”

"It's nothing," Alex said, his voice flat. He tapped the paper in his pocket. "Just a salvage run. Thorn-Tusk Boars. Simple culling job."

Anya’s eyes, sharp and assessing, didn’t leave him. “You’re taking that contract alone?”

“Yes.”

“A Rank 7 contract? Solo? Aren't you a Rank 9?” Her tone was neutral, but the question hung in the air like a challenge.

Alex met her gaze, his own steady. “I work alone. Always have, and I have a special way to take down those titans so you don't need to worry.”

“Still, it is dangerous,” Anya said. “Even for a simple cull, boars are pack hunters. They’re clever. Going alone invites unnecessary risk.” She paused, her gaze flicking to his worn gear, then back to his face. “My team could help. It would be safer.”

The offer was logical. Efficient, even. A team of Rank 6 and 7 Wardens would make the job trivial.

But it was also an intrusion. A complication. Their presence would mean questions, observations, a loss of control. The Arosaurer wasn’t an option if he had witnesses.

"I don't need any help," Alex said, his voice coming out sharper than he meant. "I can handle the mission myself."

Anya studied him for another long moment. He saw the calculation in her eyes—the mismatch between his low rank and his unwavering confidence. She gave a single, slow nod.

“Alright. It’s your call. One more thing. Be careful out there. Not just of the fauna.”

"Are you talking about the mechanical Allosaur?"

“Yes,” Anya said, her gaze intent. “We saw it yesterday. It took down a Crest Bull in minutes. It’s fast, heavily armed, and behaves with… purpose. We have no records of a Titan like it. It could be a new variant, or something else entirely.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. “Be alert. If you see it, do not engage. Report its location and retreat. We don’t know what it wants.”

Alex gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the advice.”

He didn’t trust himself to say more. With a final nod to Borin, he pushed past the heavy door and stepped back into the dusty street.

The walk back to my workshop felt longer than usual. The sun beat down, but a cold knot of unease had settled in my gut.

They thought it was a Titan. That was good.

Alex turned his back on the main settlement, his path taking him toward the distant foothills and the quiet, cluttered sanctuary of his workshop. The boar hunt was next. A simple job. A chance to gather more components, and to keep the Arosaurer’s true nature a secret for a little while longer.

* * *

The heavy door of Stonehand’s shop swung shut behind the scavenger. Anya watched it for a moment longer, the muscles in her jaw working.

“You’re awfully interested in that one, Ann,” Lyra’s voice cut through her focus, quiet and observant.

Anya turned, her posture straightening. “He’s a lower-ranked Warden taking on a job well above his apparent capability. Isn’t looking out for that standard procedure? It’s our duty to prevent unnecessary losses.”

Lyra’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “It is. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just… your attention seems a bit more intense than normal protocol would dictate.”

Fia’s eyes lit up. She leaned across the counter, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Ooh! What if our fearless leader found a crush? A mysterious, quiet type! I can see it!”

“That’s enough, Fi,” Anya said, her voice sharp. She crossed her arms. “I am not… enamored. I met the man yesterday. This is a matter of operational concern and a potential threat assessment.”

Seraphine, who had been quietly inspecting a rack of woven medical bandages, spoke without looking up. “The concern is noted. But the pulse quickens under scrutiny for many reasons. Fear, recognition, or a lie all feel the same.”

Anya opened her mouth to retort, but the shopkeeper’s daughter, Ziya, spoke first as she sorted a new crate of rivets onto a shelf.

“Are you talking about Alex?” she asked, her tone practical.

Anya’s head snapped toward her. “You know him?”

“I suppose,” Ziya said with a shrug, not pausing in her work. “He’s our best customer. And our worst debtor. Buys high-grade parts like he’s building a fortress, pays in scrap and promises. My father keeps extending him credit.”

“What’s he like?” Anya asked, her voice losing some of its command edge, becoming genuinely curious.

Ziya finally stopped, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at Anya, then at the other Wardens. “Strange. Quiet. He has this… intensity. Like he’s solving a problem only he can see. He’s been coming here for years, always for the same things: actuators, cabling, plating. Never buys food, barely buys clothes. Just parts. And he’s always broke.”

She leaned against the counter, her expression thoughtful. “But he’s not lazy. He works. He brings in salvage—good salvage, sometimes—to pay off bits of his tab. My dad says he’s got a spark. A real engineer’s mind, buried under all that grime and silence. Thinks he’s building something big out there in the foothills. Something that eats all his coin and all his time.”

Ziya met Anya’s gaze directly. “He’s harmless, if you ask me. Just obsessed. The kind of person who forgets to eat because he’s too busy thinking about torque ratios. Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?”

Anya considered the description. Obsessed. Building something. A spark.

“No trouble,” Anya said finally, her voice returning to its usual clipped tone. “Just making an assessment. Thank you for the information.”

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