Through the mazes of metal, Echo delves with intent,
In the scrapyard's embrace, his time is spent.
Memories surface, of a creator once revered,
And the story of their fall, as darkness neared.
Aetherite, the essence, bridging life to lore,
Fueled the dawn of bio-robots, in days of yore.
A harmony of flesh and frame, a fusion so divine,
But human greed for immortality, crossed the line.
Core Chronicles, the saga of the lost,
Echo's search, in the shadows, frost.
A world starved of Aetherite, for life's extension craved,
Bio-robots, once celebrated, now hunted, enslaved.
The pursuit turned ruthless, Aetherite's allure,
Bio-robots hunted, by the elite, so sure.
In their cores, the key to life's prolonged dance,
A grim chase fueled by avarice, not chance.
Yet, in this wasteland of dreams and despair,
Echo finds hope, an eye that stares.
A relic of the past, a beacon in the night,
A step towards mending, in the fading light.
In the depths of the junkyard, a discovery keen,
An eye, a fragment of history, serene.
The journey's far from over, for Echo, paths unweave,
With Aetherite tales in his core, in the future, we believe.