My Instant Death Doomed Firefly to a Lifetime of Regret

Gramr Republic

"Coordinates received. A07, proceed to target zone for extermination."

"A07, acknowledged."

Those deemed worthless die.

They are not humans—they are fuel to ignite the [Molten Flame].

The dead leave only slag. The living inherit no tomorrow.

Gramr has no future. They have no dawn.

"Ignition."

The icy command slipped from thin lips. Again, she thought. Time to burn.

The silver knight's eyes flared. "Synchronization: 5%." Her senses merged with the armor, flesh dissolving into machinery.

"Synchronization: 10%."

Her vision sharpened. Life bled from her veins, siphoned as fuel.

The [Molten Knight Prototype] required a minimum 10% sync to harness 50% of its power. Yet even 30% sufficed to purge common Swarmlings. Such strength demanded cruel payment: life itself.

To pilot a Molten Knight was to burn one's lifespan.

After years of research, the Parliament found few candidates meeting baseline sync thresholds. Thus, the Gene-Hack Program was born—manufacturing human fuel to fight the Swarm.

Today marked A07's first combat trial. Her file listed a peak sync of 22%, exceptional among hacks.

A pity she was defective.

Hacks were expendable. Defective hacks? Less than scrap.

A07 knew her sole worth lay in today's combat data. Survival? No one cared if a hack returned.

She'd never grown accustomed to the hollowing of her body. But this was her [Purpose]—the fate of all hacks.

Only encased in mercury-gray armor, her identity erased behind a visor, did she become invincible.

"Synchronization: 16%."

The colder the system's voice, the hotter her sync climbed. Higher sync meant greater power—and faster collapse.

A true Molten Knight risked draining its pilot dry within seconds. Thus, Parliament capped sync at 30%, clinging to control.

A07 had witnessed A03's end—a superior hack who hit 37% sync during testing. The armor consumed her, birthing a rabid beast. At 30% sync, pilot and armor fused irrevocably. What emerged—knight or demon? Parliament buried the data.

"Targets detected. Extermination protocol engaged."

A07's HUD swarmed with insects. Preliminary analysis: First-Stage Carapaci. Eradication in 13 minutes.

The Molten Knight blazed above Gramr's ruins, flames scattering the Swarm like cinders. She carved through the horde, incinerating wings mid-flight.

"Synchronization: 19%."

"Warning: 22%."

"Warning: Approaching critical threshold."

A07 drowned in her own heartbeat. Combat differed from lab tests—control slipped like sand.

Kill. Kill. KILL.

This was a hack's purpose: to be the Empire's sharpest blade.

The Swarm crumbled before her. Numbers meant nothing to molten fury.

As sync hit 29%, a coolant injector stabbed her side. Sync plummeted.

Falling.

The knight tumbled from the sky, gray clouds swallowing her outstretched hand. At 0% sync, the armor died.

CRASH!

A Swarmling cushioned her impact, sparing the prototype's shell.

"Emergency mode activated. Retrieval coordinates uploading."

An Ming trembled, drenched in sweat. Without this armored savior, he'd have joined his parents in death.

Before he could react, the chestplate dissolved into embers, revealing a dying girl.

He knew this scene.

Death.

Her body fissured—fingers, face, torso—crumbling to ash. Gramr's air reeked of endings.

Just like Mother. Just like Father.

No more.

"Don't die!"

Golden light erupted from An Ming's eyes. A king's decree froze death mid-stride. If words could defy cosmic law, let them sever life from entropy.

Endless dark. Falling.

Why live?

Death was mercy. Life? A bottomless pit.

A07 welcomed oblivion—until a voice shattered the void.

"Don't—"

Distant. Fading.

Then thunderous, imperial: "DON'T DIE!"

A hand yanked her from drowning depths. Air flooded her lungs.

A07 awoke to a boy.

A boy with burning amber eyes.