Cybernetic Soldier Novels & Stories

It had its eyes shut, and its body was adorned with elaborate cybernetic enhancements. Xander whispered, "Soldiers with bio-mechanical enhancements." Magnus was in the process of forming a military force. "What is the total number of these items?" Maya inquired, glancing at the lines of tanks extending into the darkness. Xander quickly looked at a nearby console, typing rapidly on the keys. Numerous, perhaps even greater in number. It seems that the explosion has triggered a sequence of events. "They are beginning to wake up." Right on time, the tanks started making hissing and popping sounds, with the liquid inside bubbling and flowing out. The characters within began to twitch and shift, t

The SecuTek Assault Armor is a battle gear comprised of cybernetic kevlar plates overlapping the wearer's reactive tactical clothing, wired to the helmet with many tiny cables hidden beneath the fabric. The advancing convoy entered the urbanized area. It felt like a ghost town; tall buildings with no illumination from the inside, barricaded storefronts, and houses that appeared empty because its owners fled the city to be with relatives in Luzon for weeks until the infection subsides. The city was partly illuminated by flickering lamp posts by the road, and the rest were shrouded in darkness. The lack of light was never an obstacle to the soldiers, but the city felt dead because of the infes

“Eventually the news will get out, but I already have a plan in place.” Patting Nyla’s leg, Veronica smiled warmly up at her. “Since we’re going to be family, why don’t you tell us about yourself, dear?” Robotically Nyla repeated the words that the military had drilled into her head. “I am soldier M4654. Age 17. Rank: Menhit. Security clearance 7.” A silence permeated the car as both Veronica and Edmond stared at her. “That’s a high-security clearance for a Menhit, Nyla,” Edmond said, breaking the silence.

The cyborg reacted swiftly, raising its hands to defend. Thud! The punch landed, unleashing a powerful burst of energy that dislodged one of its metal arms. Another punch followed, slamming into its chest, forcing it back and causing a concave dent. The cyborg was above the level of a Lord of War. "Impressive. Truly remarkable to have created such a formidable being." Alexander clicked his tongue, growing more intrigued by the exiled scientific marvel. If this cyborg could be mass-produced, it would be an army surpassing that of the Lord of War, sending shivers down one's spine at the mere thought.

But before she could pull out the rest of the code tree, the alarm blared. “Shit,” she hissed, yanking the neural spike free. Rhys slumped forward, twitching. Above her, the vents exploded open. And they dropped in. Seven soldiers. Coordinated. Precision-bred. Not Luca’s usual mercenaries – these were *trained* But more than that… They moved like her. Every strike she threw was anticipated. Every evasion mirrored. Their lead fighter even used her pivot-to-flip combo – a trick she’d only ever uploaded to a buried Damien Defense protocol two years ago.

“He said Aegis could fix me.” The silver eye glowed brighter. “And they did.” Jason took another step forward. “They rebuilt everything.” His gaze darkened slightly. He continued, savouring the shock and realization on my face. “Faster reflexes. Reinforced bones. Cybernetic neural interface.” Then, he spread his arms slightly. “A perfect soldier.” Then his smile twisted like he was proud of the words himself. “But… they kept the part of me that mattered.” His eyes locked onto mine again.

His eyes, now entirely white pools of light, locked onto the squad. "My turn," Tristan whispered. It wasn't his voice. It was a chorus. He snapped his fingers. Discharge. He didn't fire a beam. He released a localized EMP pulse of pure Void energy. The shockwave ripple was visible—a translucent sphere expanding at the speed of sound. When it hit the guards, they didn't bleed. They simply stopped. Their armor powered down. Their cybernetic limbs seized. Their neural implants fried instantly. Ten elite soldiers dropped to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.

And it wasn't empty. Guarding the Ark was the absolute last of the Founders’ old-world automated army. Thousands of sleek, white-and-gold drone tanks hovered over the glass. Swarms of automated gun-ships circled the perimeter like angry hornets. And standing in perfect, mathematically precise formations were hundreds of hulking, eight-foot cybernetic Sun-Guards. "They consolidated everything they had left," Dax said, dismounting his Interceptor and walking up to the edge of the ridge. He surveyed the army, the massive floating sphere, and the six apocalyptic drills.

They were batteries. He dropped into the Command Hub, his boots silent on the synthetic carpet. The room was dominated by a massive, multi-screen array. At the center stood Commander Thorne, his back to Aradaa. The cybernetic plates in Thorne’s neck shifted with a wet, mechanical clicking. "You always did have a penchant for the vents, Aradaa," Thorne said. The voice wasn't his. It was a cold, algorithmic resonance that made the air feel thin. Thorne turned. His mechanical eye wasn't red or blue—it was a flickering, chaotic violet.

Grant lifts his hand. The soldiers behind him raise devices I recognize instantly. Neural dampeners. Designed to sever system-human interface. My breath catches. If they fire, the merge collapses. The predators outside will react violently. The Architects will regain control. Grant’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly. “This is bigger than you,” he says. “Emotion cannot run civilization.” “Maybe it was always meant to,” I reply. The child surges. The city grid pulses brighter. The predators turn. Not toward civilians.