Chapter 1 – Awakening on the Edge
Shawn's consciousness swam up from darkness like a diver breaching the ocean's surface. His eyes snapped open to the cracked visor of his escape pod, half-buried in a dune of dark, iron-rich sand. Every muscle in his body ached, but his mind—his mind was aflame with information that wasn't his.
A voice, cool and synthetic, whispered in the recesses of his skull:
"Red Alert System initializing… scanning local environment… critical resources detected… bootstrapping complete."
He drew a shuddering breath and tried to sit up. The restraints hissed and disengaged, and he tumbled out onto the sand. The air was thin, metallic, and stank of ozone. In the bruised violet sky, three moons hung low like watchful eyes. Lightning forked among swirling clouds, illuminating the broken wasteland in brief, electric flashes.
A surge of memory—no, knowledge—washed over him. He knew how to construct power plants, harvest ore, and clone soldiers. He knew the schematics of tanks, aircraft, and even towering mechanized suits of war. And layered beneath it all, a deeper power stirred, ancient and primal:
Mokuton. Sharingan. Rinnegan.
He pressed a hand to his face and felt the warmth gathering behind his eyes. If he chose, he could awaken the Mangekyo. He could call forth a forest or split the ground itself. The merging of Uchiha and Senju bloodlines pulsed in his veins.
"I remember… everything," he rasped, voice hoarse.
A flickering holographic display shimmered over his right eye:
[COMMAND INTERFACE ACTIVE]
PRIMARY OBJECTIVES:
Establish base of operations.
Secure resources.
Eliminate local threats.
His gaze drifted over the wreckage of the pod. The hull was cracked open like an egg, spilling out crates of survival rations and metal canisters. He moved slowly, cataloguing what he could salvage.
One crate yielded fusion batteries, still humming with residual charge. Another held compressed steel beams. The jackpot lay in a reinforced case marked with a sigil he didn't recognize: when he pried it open, an AI core the size of a human head blinked to life.
"Data core compatible," the Red Alert System intoned. "Processing alien schematic library… partial success. Additional build options unlocked."
He exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders. With this, he could construct far more than Earth-standard equipment.
Thunder boomed across the dunes. A low growl reverberated beneath his boots. He glanced up—two gleaming amber eyes peered over a nearby ridge. A creature like an oversized lizard, plated in obsidian scales, stalked toward him. Rows of fangs dripped a viscous fluid that sizzled when it struck the sand.
"Great," he muttered.
He thumbed a command into the interface, bringing up the construction menu:
Power Plant (Available)
Ore Refinery (Available)
Barracks (Available)
War Factory (Locked: insufficient materials)
The creature hissed and broke into a lumbering sprint. Shawn felt the first threads of fear tug at his resolve—but he crushed them under the weight of new instincts.
His chakra flared, a river surging up from the core of his being. He raised both hands, forming a rapid sequence of seals that felt as natural as breathing.
"Wood Style: Deep Forest Emergence!"
The sand erupted. Thick roots burst forth in a wave, coiling around the creature's limbs. It shrieked as the living wood constricted, snapping bones and pinning it to the earth.
He stalked forward, Sharingan blazing red. The creature thrashed and spat acid, but it could not escape.
"I am not prey," he told it softly.
With a flick of his wrist, a shimmering blade of chakra extended from his palm—a miniature Susano'o weapon. He drove it between the creature's eyes. The body sagged, lifeless.
He let the roots withdraw, their growth receding into the sand. The corpse slumped onto its side, acidic fluids seeping into the soil.
His breath came ragged and heavy, but his mind was calm. No hesitation. No doubt.
This was what he was now: a warlord in the making.
He returned to the wreckage, feeling the Red Alert System analyzing the biomass of the fallen beast. A new notification pinged:
[Local Organic Matter Analyzed]
Composite armor improvements available.
Additional biomass stored for clone production.
He crouched by the alien's body, pressing a palm to its hide. Even here, in the edge of a ruined universe, life was a resource.
"You're going to help me build," he murmured. "One way or another."
Over the next hours, he worked without rest.
Construction Drones—dull, boxy automatons that the system had fabricated in the crash—crawled from the wreckage like metallic beetles. They began assembling a foundation from steel plates. The Power Plant rose in segments: a squat, angular structure with a reactor core that glowed through slitted vents.
He wired in the fusion batteries, watching the power readings climb. Lights flickered on. The base emitted a steady hum that settled something deep in his chest: the first seed of civilization.
[POWER PLANT ONLINE.]
[Energy output: 100%.]
He moved immediately to the next project: an Ore Refinery. The planet's crust was dense with mineral veins. Automated drills unfolded like enormous insects, driving boreheads into the earth. Raw ore flowed along conveyor tracks, sorted into bins, smelted into ingots.
The Red Alert interface updated again:
[Refinery operational. Storage capacity: 50 tons.]
[Funds accruing: +200 credits per cycle.]
He felt a strange satisfaction as the numbers ticked upward. This was progress—tangible, unstoppable.
He paused only when the first flicker of dawn touched the horizon. The sky brightened to a pale copper, revealing the true scope of the wasteland. Razor-edged ridges stretched for miles. Broken alien ruins dotted the landscape, half-swallowed by sand.
Somewhere beyond those hills, rival warbands would be gathering. Even now, the faint echo of engines and weapons-fire drifted on the wind.
He clenched his jaw. He needed a fighting force.
[Barracks construction advised.]
He opened the build menu again.
Barracks:
Cost: 50 alloy, 10 power cells
Output: Basic Clone Infantry
He had the resources.
Confirm build.
Construction Drones swarmed to new tasks, laying down armored flooring, erecting walls, installing genetic vats.
Hours passed in a blur. Finally, the Barracks doors sealed with a hiss. Inside, the first clone pods filled with pale amniotic fluid.
He stepped into the chamber, watching rows of figures slowly coalesce inside the tanks. They looked human—mostly—but taller, broader-shouldered, genetically tailored for war.
"Soldiers," he whispered. "My soldiers."
He tapped into the control terminal, scrolling through options:
Template: Baseline Combat Trooper
Template: Heavy Infantry (Locked)
Template: Symbiote Hybrid (Requires sample)
A flicker of curiosity. Symbiote hybrid. He didn't have the material yet—but the system clearly had data on it.
A chill passed through him. Somewhere on this planet, or perhaps nearby, the symbiotes had seeded their kind.
He exhaled, forcing the thought aside. One threat at a time.
As dusk fell again, he stood before the three structures: Power Plant, Refinery, Barracks. The beginnings of an empire.
He opened the interface and set production orders. Clone Soldiers would be decanted overnight. More drones would begin refining ore.
And tomorrow, he would start laying foundations for the War Factory. Tanks. Mechs. Gundams.
The wind shifted, carrying the howl of predators and the distant rumble of machinery. The stars wheeled overhead—alien constellations in a sky that was no longer home.
But this place would be home.
Or rather—it would be his.
He looked up at the moons and let the Sharingan fade from his eyes. Exhaustion caught up with him at last, but he allowed himself a thin, satisfied smile.
"Tomorrow," he said softly to the dark. "I begin the conquest."
END OF CHAPTER 1