Jade Bot Core: Tier 7 sits cool and heavy in the palm, a polished slab of jade whose surface drinks light and returns it as a soft, living glow. Veins of pale emerald braid through the stone like rivers through a valley, and a ring of minute brass gears lies along the edge, ticking with a patient, almost musical rhythm. On the face, fine runic engravings creep in latticework patterns, tiny enough to be legible only up close, yet they pulse with a whisper of green that feels almost like breath. The texture shifts between cool satin and a faint warmth at the center, as if the core carries a memory of the ember-fires that forged it. It is a compact relic and a living tool, the kind of artifact that seems to remember who you are even before you know who you will become. In the workshop streets, the core looks out of place among the neat stacks of bronze and glass, as if it arrived with a legend folded inside. When the artisan slots Tier 7 into the Jade Bot spine, the room quiets, and a faint scent of rain-green lacquer fills the air. The bot’s eyes flicker from inert specks of light to a keen, questioning gold, and the quiet hum that follows is less a sound than a suggestion: this is what you asked for, and it will do more than you imagined. The upgrade is not merely mechanical; it feels like waking a trained dog from a long, patient sleep, and the Jade Bot becomes more than a tool, a partner who anticipates your moves and fills the gaps you didn’t know you had. Its sensor suite expands, its pistons smooth into a calmer rhythm, and a new set of protocols unfurls—detection, analysis, countermeasures—each one braided with the core’s ancient green energy. From a gameplay perspective, the Tier 7 core is the key that unlocks the most nuanced facets of the Jade Bot’s personality and capability. With Tier 7 installed, the bot can run higher-grade subroutines: sharper environmental awareness, smarter target prioritization, and a dependable repair protocol that can triage battlefield damage on the fly. It can execute a measured retreat, shield allies, or dive into a risky salvage run with a map-reading precision that only a core of this refinement affords. Players who wield it learn to synchronize the bot’s cadence with their own, weaving the construct into the rhythm of a battle as if it had always walked beside them, a steady companion that speaks in an almost quiet, mechanical empathy. Market whispers drift through the city’s corridors as I follow a caravan’s dust to Saddlebag Exchange, where traders haggle over what a core really costs when the day’s wind shifts. A pristine Tier 7, they tell me, can fetch a few gold more or less depending on demand, condition, and the skin of the jade itself—a price that reflects both the rarity of the piece and the stories it carries. The clerk’s fingers hover over the counter, glancing toward the door as if the next buyer might appear with a different measure of patience. In this world, the price of power is always negotiable, always weighted by lore, and always worth telling in a voice that suggests a trade manuscript more than a receipt. Thus the Jade Bot Core: Tier 7 remains not just a component, but a hinge—the moment when a careful hand, a patient mind, and a green-lit memory unlock a future where machine and would-be companion move through danger and discovery as one.