The next morning, sunlight bled through the thin warehouse windows, casting long streaks across the concrete floor.Raen stood at the entrance, a steaming mug of instant coffee in hand.
He hadn't slept much—not from stress, but anticipation.
By noon, the deliveries started rolling in.
Heavy crates. Shockproof containers. Pallets lined with precision tools, furniture, and high-spec equipment.
Technicians worked in tandem, unloading and installing.Lab benches. Power converters. Insulated cabling. Ventilation rigs. Shelving units. Server racks.
Eight hours later, the once dusty warehouse had transformed.
It still had scars of its age—uneven floor patches and paint-chipped walls—but it breathed potential now.
A workshop of the future.
A lab worthy of invention.
Near the far corner of the warehouse, Raen marked a small raised spot with tape.
"This... this is where I'll put it," he muttered, staring at the space.
The future site of a monument.
A tribute to the beginning—his old, burned-out rig.
But that would come later.
Inside the house section, fresh furniture had already been placed. A proper bed, clean appliances, stocked shelves, and soft lighting. It still smelled like plastic wrap and fresh wood polish, but it was a thousand times better than his old apartment.
Raen tossed his jacket onto the couch and returned to the lab.
His new rig—top of the line—booted up with a deep, smooth hum.
Triple monitors lit the room with an ambient glow.
He leaned forward and cracked his knuckles.
"Time to build."
He didn't need to warm up.Programming came like second nature now—pure instinct flowing from brain to screen.
Each command lined itself before he could think of it.Every logic gate, every AI instruction map—automatic.
He crafted the early shell of VoxFrame.
A neural base.A voice interface.A modular processing engine.Basic control over cameras, lights, lab equipment.
Nothing fancy yet—but it responded.
The lab was no longer just a space.It was listening.
Raen stood up and watched the monitors reflect off the polished surface of his workbench.
This wasn't a job.
This wasn't for money.
This was his world beginning to shape itself.
"Let's see what you become."