Kane pushed the door open and stepped out. His silhouette didn't head toward the brightly lit streets of Blackrock Town; instead, like a drop of ink bleeding into the shadows, he turned into the lowest, most chaotic back alleys.

  He didn't go to any clinic.

  He simply found a deserted corner and used high-proof liquor swiped from the tavern to flush his wounds.

  The agonizing pain felt like red-hot iron rods thrusting into his flesh. He forcibly suppressed even the slightest tremor of his muscles, binding the wounds to stop the bleeding in the most brutal fashion.

  Pain kept him sharp.

  After twisting through several turns, he stopped before a massive trash compaction station.

  This was the edge of Blackrock Town, the entrance to the Metal Graveyard, and the address Felix had provided.

  The stench of rancid machine oil mixed with rotting matter was enough to utterly destroy a person’s sense of smell.

  Kane didn’t enter immediately.

  Among a pile of nearby mechanical wreckage, he found a decommissioned control box with its structure still intact. He pried the door open and stuffed the inner lining—the cloth wrapped around the S-Rank Data Core—deep into the tangle of wiring at the back of the iron box.

  Then, using his dagger, he carved a nearly imperceptible mark into a hidden corner of the casing.

  The vantage point here was wide; he would be the first to notice anyone approaching.

  This wasn't just for concealment. It was so that in the worst-case scenario, he could retrieve it with maximum speed—or blow it to hell.

  With that finished, he turned and punched a complex string of passcodes into the trash station’s control panel.

  Rumble...

  Heavy hydraulic pistons rose, revealing a bottomless vertical shaft beneath his feet. Scorched air mixed with the burnt scent of metal cutting rushed toward his face.

  The interior of the workshop was a vast underground cavity.

  This was a temple of machinery and a graveyard of steel.

  Countless gnarled mechanical arms hung from the ceiling like slumbering metal spiders. On the ground, precision components and semi-finished exoskeletons were piled like mountains. The air vibrated with a piercing, high-frequency hum.

  At the central workbench, a hunched figure with thinning white hair was using an ultrasonic polisher on a section of a metal humerus.

  Sparks flew.

  This was Kyrie, one of the most formidable power-mechanics near Blackrock Town—a monster who lived only for top-tier materials and insane concepts.

  The sound of Kane’s footsteps was insignificant in the noisy environment.

  Kyrie didn’t even tilt his head. His voice came from behind thick goggles, dry and utterly devoid of patience.

  "Felix’s man? Drop the item, write your requirements on the board, then get out."

  His tone was like shooing away a fly.

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  Kane ignored the attitude.

  He placed a specialized metal cooling box onto the workbench. Frost coated its surface.

  Click.

  The lid opened.

  A plume of freezing white mist billowed out, clashing violently with the scorching air of the workshop.

  In the center of the box, resting within cryogenic gel, lay a length of sinew as thick as a baby's arm.

  It was entirely covered in fine, silvery-white membranes. Beneath the membranes, faint blue electric arcs leaped and flickered between the nerve bundles.

  It was still alive.

  Whirrr—

  The piercing sound of the ultrasonic polisher cut off.

  Every noise in the entire workshop felt as though it had been choked by an invisible hand.

  Dead silence.

  Kyrie’s body froze, maintaining his polishing posture like a statue that had suddenly lost power.

  A few seconds later, he gently placed the expensive polisher back in its original spot. The movement was delicate, as if he were laying down the relics of a saint.

  He pulled off his goggles.

  His eyes were cloudy and bloodshot, but in that moment, all the dullness vanished. Only a sharp, nearly greedy light remained—one so piercing it stung.

  He leaned down, his nose nearly touching the cooling box, obsessively observing the flow of every wisp of energy within the sinew.

  His face, a map of wrinkles and burn scars, twisted with extreme focus until it looked ghoulish.

  "...Phase-Rat King."

  His voice was no longer aged; it turned low and raspy, like a long-dormant engine being primed with high-octane fuel and roared back to life.

  "Live tissue... the bio-electric activity hasn't decayed in the slightest... This is impossible..."

  He snapped his head up, his gaze stabbing into Kane like a pair of scalpels.

  The condescending impatience was gone.

  In its place was a mixture of scrutiny, suspicion, and the fanaticism of a craftsman witnessing a miracle.

  "Kid." Kyrie’s tone left no room for doubt, each word squeezed through his teeth. "This thing—how did you get it?"

  Kane leaned against the workbench. Meeting that probing gaze, he uttered only three words.

  "Found it outside."

  Kyrie’s breath hitched.

  He stared dead into Kane’s expressionless face, trying to find even a trace of a lie.

  There was none.

  Found it?

  You call a King-class material—the kind that might not even be retrieved intact if an elite hunter squad traded their lives for it—"found it"?!

  Kane had no interest in admiring his shock. He stated his requirements directly.

  "I want a pair of power legs."

  "Primary material: that. Core function: extreme explosive jumping power."

  "Secondary function: speed."

  "Most importantly: appearance. Make them look like human legs. They need to fit under trousers. I don’t like hunkering piles of scrap."

  He added one final note.

  "Felix is footing the bill."

  Kyrie didn't answer.

  He extended a finger covered in callouses and machine oil, tracing it slowly through the air an inch above the King's Sinew.

  His eyes were tracking the trajectory of the energy.

  After a long moment, he withdrew his hand. He didn’t look at Kane; instead, he spiraled into a manic monologue.

  "Using the King's Sinew as a core drive cable... No, that wastes its bio-electricity. I must use 'Neural Bridging' to connect its mimetic feedback directly to the user's spinal nerves... Jump, speed, burst... This isn't a modification. This is evolution!"

  His breathing grew heavy. A fire ignited in his eyes.

  It was the madness of a creator about to touch the realm of the gods.

  He spun around, violently sweeping a pile of parts off the workbench. He grabbed a stylus and began sketching frantically on a light-screen.

  A flood of complex blueprints and data streams poured out.

  "I’m taking the job!"

  He didn't look up, his voice vibrating with suppressed excitement.

  "Kid, remember this! Next time you 'find' something like this, come straight to me! Don't go to Felix, that number-crunching bloodsucker! I'll give you a price you can't refuse!"

  He had already stopped paying attention to Kane, as if the messenger who brought the oracle had fulfilled his purpose.

  His entire world was now reduced to that King's Sinew and the path of madness it opened toward a masterpiece.

  "Seven days."

  Kyrie spat out the number and tossed a black metal block from the workbench.

  "Encrypted communicator. I'll sync the progress to you. Now, beat it. Don't disturb me."

  The deal was struck.

  Kane turned and left. Behind him, the deafening symphony of tools being restarted roared to life.

  Exiting the Metal Graveyard, Kane looked up at the murky sky over Blackrock Town.

  The limit of [ Aerial Step ] depended on the body's jumping power.

  The power of The Cyclone was inextricably linked to the user's speed.

  With these legs, his strength wouldn't just be a simple addition—it would be a qualitative leap.

  Cold killing intent slowly solidified in his heart.

  The essential preparations were done. The equipment was settled.

  So, next...

  The faces of the Iron Hand Gang surfaced in Kane’s mind.

  It was time to go back and settle some old scores.

  And time to see if that big idiot, Crag, had woken up yet.

  His pace quickened as his silhouette melted once more into the boundless wilderness.

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