The night air was heavy with tension as Steve carried Silas’s mother through the door of the safe house. Her breathing was steady but shallow; the ordeal had clearly taken its toll. Silas sprang to his feet the moment they entered, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.

“Mom!” Silas rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he checked to see if she was truly there, alive and unharmed. Tears threatened to spill over, but he forced them back, focusing on her steady pulse.

Steve gently set her down on a cot, his expression unreadable. “She’s safe now,” he said, stepping back to give Silas space. “Kisonic Enterprises won’t get near her again.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of machinery. Silas felt the weight of everything crash down on him—the fear, the anger, the relief. It all blurred together, leaving him feeling hollow and lost.

“She’s safe now,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. But even as he said it, he knew the danger wasn’t over. Not for him. Not for her. “I have to be stronger,” he said suddenly, his voice raw with determination. “I can’t let them do this again.”

Steve’s gaze was intense, but there was a hint of something softer beneath it—understanding. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you’re ready for whatever comes next.”

Silas stood, his hands still clenched at his sides. He’d been running on pure adrenaline for days, but now the reality of what he was facing crashed down on him. He turned to Steve, his eyes burning with resolve. “Then let’s start.”

Iron Knight Voice Log 2076

“Silas is… raw. He’s scared and uncertain, but who wouldn’t be? A few days ago, he was a kid getting lost in VR arcades, sneaking out for excitement and escape. Now he’s standing on the edge of something he doesn’t fully understand, with abilities that make him a target for the worst people in this city. And I’m the one who has to prepare him for that.

I can’t afford to be soft. I can’t afford to make mistakes. Not with him. I see potential in Silas—more than he realizes—but potential doesn’t win battles. Training does. Discipline does. He needs to learn that. And I have to be the one to teach it to him.

But I can’t lie, even to myself. Part of me hesitated before bringing him into this. Am I repeating mistakes of the past? Am I putting him on a path that will break him? I’ve carried too many regrets already; I can’t add Silas to that list. So, I have to make sure he survives. Not just physically, but in every way that counts.

Tomorrow, we start his training. The real training. And I’ll push him hard. Harder than he’s been pushed before. Because if I don’t… this city will chew him up and spit him out. And I won’t let that happen.”*

The next day, Silas woke with a sense of purpose that hadn’t been there before. The pain and fear of the past days had crystallized into something hard, something he could wield. He followed Steve to the training area, every step a reminder of the promise he’d made—to protect the people he loved, no matter the cost.

Steve led him to a spacious room filled with machines, monitors, and equipment. “Before we start,” Steve said, his voice calm but serious, “you need to understand something. This training won’t just push you physically. It’s going to challenge you in ways you haven’t imagined. You’ll be tested—mentally, emotionally, spiritually. You’ll have to confront parts of yourself you might not be ready to face.”

Silas nodded, the weight of Steve’s words settling over him. “I’m ready.”

“We’ll see.” Steve motioned for him to step forward. “Today, we’ll focus on control. Your powers have raw potential, but without discipline, they’re a danger—to you and everyone around you.”

The first exercise was deceptively simple: a single console with blinking lights and switches. “Connect with it,” Steve instructed. “Don’t do anything yet. Just feel it.”

Silas closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind. The energy of the machine thrummed beneath his senses, pulsing like a heartbeat. It felt familiar and alien all at once. Slowly, he let himself sink into it, feeling the flow of data, the pathways of circuits.

“Good,” Steve said, his voice grounding him. “Now, see if you can separate one thread from the others. Isolate it, but keep the rest intact.”

It was harder than it sounded. Silas concentrated, feeling the pressure build as he tried to focus on one thread without losing control of the others. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and for a moment, everything slipped—his connection faltered, and the machine sparked.

“Breathe,” Steve’s voice cut through the haze of panic. “Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

Silas took a deep breath, steadying himself. He tried again, this time moving slower, more deliberately. The thread separated, holding steady while the rest of the network buzzed around it. Relief washed over him, but he didn’t let go.

“Now reconnect it,” Steve said. “Gently.”

Silas followed the command, feeling the tension ease as the threads merged back together. When he opened his eyes, he saw Steve nodding, a glimmer of approval in his gaze.

“Not bad,” Steve said. “But we’re just getting started.”

For hours, they worked. Silas connected to machines, isolated circuits, controlled flows of energy. Every exercise was a test of patience, precision, and endurance. Steve pushed him, guiding him when he faltered but never letting him quit.

By the end of the day, Silas was exhausted, every muscle in his body aching. But there was a spark of pride in his chest—a small but growing belief that he could do this. That he could become someone strong enough to protect what mattered.

As they walked back to the safe house, Steve spoke quietly. “You did well today. But remember, control is only one part of the equation. Tomorrow, we work on command.”

Silas nodded, too tired to say more. He knew this was only the beginning, but for the first time, he felt like he was moving in the right direction.

Iron Knight Voice Log 2079

‘We’re a few days in now, and Silas is starting to understand what this life means. He’s learning to control his technopathy, at least on the surface level. There’s real progress there—flashes of brilliance even—but he’s still raw. Still hesitant.

It’s not the physical strain that worries me; he can handle that. It’s the mental toll. The fear of what he can do—and the damage he might cause if he loses control. I see it in his eyes every time a connection slips, every time he makes a mistake. He thinks he’ll hurt someone. And I get it. I’ve been there.

But fear can be a tool if you use it right. I need to teach him that. I need to make him see that his power doesn’t have to be a curse. It can be a weapon—a shield for the people he cares about. And when that finally clicks for him… he’ll be unstoppable.

For now, we keep pushing. He’s tired, frustrated, but he’s not giving up. And that’s what I need to see.”*

The next morning, Silas awoke with a dull ache in every muscle, a testament to the grueling training session from the day before. But even as exhaustion tugged at him, there was a simmering determination in his chest. He rose quickly, knowing Steve would already be waiting for him.

When he arrived in the training area, Steve was leaning against one of the machines, his expression unreadable. “You’re up early,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Figured I’d need all the time I can get,” Silas replied, trying to sound confident despite the nerves twisting in his stomach.

Steve straightened, his eyes serious. “Good. Today, we’re focusing on command. Control is about maintaining stability, but command is about taking initiative—using your power with purpose.”

He gestured toward a series of consoles and hovering drones arranged in a loose circle. “This exercise is called The Web. Each drone is linked to a different system. Your job is to direct them, keep them in sync, and respond to any disruptions.”

Silas took a deep breath, stepping forward. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

He reached out with his mind, feeling the network of connections thrumming beneath the surface. The drones hovered, their movements smooth and fluid, each one responding to its own set of commands. Silas focused, reaching out to one drone at a time, willing it to move in unison with the others.

For a moment, everything went smoothly. The drones moved in a perfect circle, their patterns precise and synchronized. But then, without warning, one of the drones broke formation, veering off course. Silas’s heart raced as he scrambled to regain control, feeling the tension build in the network.

“Stay calm,” Steve’s voice was steady, cutting through the rising panic. “Adapt. Don’t force it—redirect.”

Silas gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. He reached out to the rogue drone, willing it back into formation. It resisted at first, the connection flickering, but he didn’t let go. Slowly, the drone fell back in line, its movements smoothing out as it rejoined the circle.

“Good,” Steve said, his tone neutral but with a hint of approval. “Now, maintain that connection while redirecting the others.”

The challenge was relentless. Each time Silas thought he had a handle on the network, a new disruption would arise—drones breaking formation, consoles flickering, circuits sparking. His mind felt like it was being pulled in a hundred different directions, each one demanding his attention. But he kept going, refusing to let the network unravel.

Hours passed in a blur of focus and strain. Silas’s body ached, his mind felt like it was on fire, but he didn’t stop. He pushed himself to adapt, to anticipate the disruptions and respond with precision. Slowly, the network began to feel like an extension of himself, each connection pulsing with his own rhythm.

When Steve finally called for a break, Silas sagged against the wall, sweat dripping from his forehead. “That… was brutal,” he panted, a weak grin on his face.

Steve nodded, his expression unreadable. “Command is about more than just control. It’s about understanding the flow of a situation, adapting to changes, and making decisions in the heat of the moment. You did well today.”

Silas nodded, feeling a surge of pride despite the exhaustion. “Thanks.”

“Good,” Steve said, his voice firm. “Then let’s keep going.” 

Iron Knight Voice Log 2086

Ten days in, and Silas is… surprising me. He’s more resilient than I expected. The first week, I thought he’d crack under the pressure. I was ready for it, even planned for it, but he didn’t. Every time I pushed, he pushed back harder. Every failure, he treated like a lesson.

There’s a spark in him—something fierce. He’s not just learning how to control his powers; he’s learning how to fight, how to adapt. But there’s still a lot he doesn’t understand. The stakes. The cost of every choice we make. I’ve tried to shield him from the worst of it, but that can’t last forever.

Tomorrow, we take things further. I’m going to show him what this fight really means—the weight of it. He needs to see it, to feel it, if he’s going to survive. If he’s going to be more than just a scared kid with power.

I know he can do this. I just hope it doesn’t break him.”*

Steve pushed him harder with each session, introducing new challenges, new exercises designed to test his limits. They practiced combat drills, tactical maneuvers, and simulations that forced Silas to think on his feet. Each day, he grew stronger, more confident in his abilities.

But the lessons weren’t just physical. Steve challenged Silas’s mind, pushing him to think strategically, to see beyond the immediate threat and anticipate what lay ahead. They spent hours poring over maps, studying the movements of their enemies, analyzing data from past missions. Silas began to see patterns, to understand the way their enemies operated—and to find ways to outmaneuver them. Silas poured himself into every lesson, every grueling exercise Steve threw at him. The fear and doubt still lingered, but they no longer controlled him. He was learning to harness his power, to find purpose in the chaos. And with each day, the bond between him and Steve grew stronger—a mentor and a student, each shaping the other in ways neither could have predicted.

But life in Rivers City never stopped. Beneath the surface, shadows moved, and corruption crept like a poison through its veins.

One evening, Silas and Steve returned from a long training session, the air thick with exhaustion and the heavy scent of sweat. They dropped onto the worn-out chairs in the safe house’s main room. Silas stared at the ceiling, trying to will away the aches in his muscles.

“Thought I was getting stronger,” he muttered, a trace of humor masking the fatigue.

“You are,” Steve replied, a rare grin tugging at his lips. “Just means I need to push you harder.”