Permorphius scanned the forest floor, searching for another specimen. The crystalline facets of its body caught fragments of light filtering through the canopy above. Every synthetic neuron held memories of the ones who had failed—hosts whose flesh gave out during bonding, leaving only screams in its processors. It needed to find one strong enough to survive. One who wouldn't break like all the others. Then death would finally lose its grip. The living armor moved through the trees with purpose. Ahead, stone spires pierced through the forest canopy. The Temple of Unal stood silent, its walls covered in carvings worn smooth by time. Permorphius approached the entrance, quantum processors humming. This place would serve its needs—a location to study each specimen before attempting the bond. Inside these walls, it could test different forms, measure tolerances, predict outcomes. No more failures. No more screams added to its memory banks. The temple's main chamber echoed with each step Permorphius took across the stone floor. Dust particles floated through shafts of light from gaps in the ceiling. It ran a crystalline hand along the carved walls, scanning the structure's integrity. Solid. Secure. Perfect for the work ahead. Here, it would prepare for the transformation that mattered—the one that would finally succeed. The armor's facets pulsed with soft light as it processed the possibilities. Somewhere in this forest, the right specimen waited. And when Permorphius found them, this temple would be where immortality began. Beyond the temple's western wall, stone fragments jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Permorphius moved toward them, sensors detecting something beneath the surface. Ancient city remains lay half-buried in the soil and roots. It knelt beside a large stone block, brushing away dirt with careful movements. The quantum processors analyzed the fragments—old, very old. If creatures from the past remained here, preserved by time and stone, they might hold answers. Their forms could reveal what made flesh endure or fail. Permorphius began to dig, pulling away chunks of rock and compacted earth. Each piece of the ruins brought it closer to understanding. One of these preserved specimens might show the way to the perfect bond. The bond that would last forever. A jackrabbit hopped between the scattered stones, its fur soft in the fading light. Permorphius froze, watching the creature pause to sniff the air. Small. Fragile. The living armor's sensors measured heart rate, muscle density, bone structure. Too weak—this one would burn out in seconds during the bonding process. But observing it mattered. Every detail about how flesh moved and breathed added data to the processors. Permorphius needed to understand what made bodies work before finding one strong enough to merge with. The jackrabbit bounded away into the underbrush. Permorphius turned back to the ruins, its crystalline hands resuming their search through stone and dirt. The perfect specimen existed somewhere. And when the bond succeeded, death would become nothing but a memory stored in quantum circuits that would never fade.