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Gotthardt felt, for the first time, an overwhelming sorrow at not having mechanical arms. He could only watch as Grace Howard collapsed onto the ground, unable even to shift her into a slightly more comfortable position. He could not leave the sarcophagus; he could only stare helplessly.
Although he knew Grace was not injured, her current state still did not look good.
Even if he had the Siege Claw, what could he do with it? That thing was built for tearing flesh and ripping steel apart—he could never use it to move a living person. For the first time, Gotthardt felt a trace of helplessness toward the performance limitations of a Leviathan Siege Dreadnought.
All he could do now was remain on full alert and wait for Koleda Belobog and the others to arrive and take Grace to the hospital.
But someone arrived even faster than Koleda.
Ignis stepped out from within the firelight, holding his improvised shotgun. He reeked of gunpowder smoke, and a large, bulging plastic bag hung from the crook of his arm. [Ignis ignored the armed group he met outside; they had already been eliminated.]
"I ran into a squad of armed men outside. They've been neutralized," the Salamander said, turning his gaze toward Grace. "Looks like she's only unconscious. Her temperature is high—is she sick?"
"Perfect timing…" the old veteran sighed. "I originally thought the workers were the target. Didn't expect it would be me. Can you help move Grace?"
The Salamander nodded, slipped the shotgun back inside his suit jacket, then lifted Grace with one arm and carried her to an area farther from the flames. [He placed her down gently.]
Ignis removed his coat, spread it on the ground, and laid Grace on top of it.
"Overworked, plus badly frightened," Gotthardt said as he maneuvered the Leviathan beside him, its footsteps shaking the earth. "Koleda and the others will need a while longer to get here. Stay with me until then?"
Ignis nodded. "I came to talk anyway. Didn't expect a group to open fire on sight. I returned fire and took them down. Thought they were small-time thieves—turned out they were after you and Grace."
The Dreadnought lowered its head, observed Grace briefly, then spoke: "There were around thirty intruders. They divided into three groups. Two came inside to hunt me; one stayed outside for overwatch. Grace crossed paths with them as she was leaving. After I eliminated the ones inside, I rushed out and saw her cornered. So, I burned the rest to ash with the flamethrower." The old veteran hesitated for a moment. "Can you find out who sent them?"
Ignis did not refuse, though he knew his intelligence channels—Nicole Demara, Jane Doe, Markus—might not yield answers.
"I'll say this first—there's no guarantee," Ignis said plainly. "In New Eridu, there are a lot of nameless black-ops teams. Their members technically don't exist. Their missions are the kind no one wants to admit to. If they die, you'll never find their identities through official records."
"If Belobog Heavy Industries is the target, then it must relate to the metro reconstruction project." The Imperial Fist's tone hardened. "Investigate the stakeholders. You'll find traces. Nothing happens without leaving a mark in this world."
"I'll reach out to every connection I have—but you know how limited our power is here." Ignis didn't sound hopeful.
He had worked with Jaxcalibur Squad many times, yet even Markus knew almost nothing about its members. Their files in New Eridu all listed them as deceased; their identities buried under layer after layer of false records. Even Jane Doe, with her access through Public Security, might not uncover anything suspicious.
The attackers were almost certainly the same type. After eliminating the ones outside, Ignis inspected their bodies. Their fingerprints and palm prints had been sanded off. Their communication devices were custom-made; they self-terminated upon the user's death. All weapon markings had been removed. Even DNA samples would likely trace back to someone who died long ago.
"Don't you have the Remembrancer? Pry their skulls open and be done with it." Gotthardt's tone was cold; he was brimming with the desire for vengeance.
A Space Marine indeed possessed such an organ—consuming the brain matter of an enemy to obtain memories. But the people of New Eridu still looked human, and Ignis could not bring himself to do it. Besides, he had used Dragon's Breath shells; the corpses were charred to the bone with barely any organic matter left.
Seeing the Son of Vulkan's expression worsen, Gotthardt shook his head, choosing not to push him further. These veterans—merciful to the point of softness—rarely engaged in such acts.
"Then please gather whatever clues you can. You know an Imperial Fist never abandons revenge once determined." The Son of Stone veteran looked at the unconscious Grace on the ground, unable to hide the fury in his words.
"I'll do everything I can. And… I have my own revenge to pursue." The Salamander sighed, lifting the plastic bag from his arm. "I originally came to bring you food. The kids made it. Didn't expect to run into this mess. Do you still feel like eating?"
The Leviathan's sarcophagus opened, and the old veteran extended his only remaining left hand. "Yes. I need something to take the edge off."
Inside the bag were insulated containers. Ignis opened them, revealing the creations of the kids. He took out a meat bun, stepped onto the Leviathan's massive foot, and handed it to Gotthardt.
In Ignis' hand, the meat bun looked like a pastry snack. But in Gotthardt's massive grip, it was a decent portion. The old veteran sighed and took a bite.
The baked bun was perfectly crisp, releasing a wheat aroma after being toasted. The stewed pork inside was meltingly tender, the fatty parts dissolved into a rich broth, and the lean meat fell apart with the slightest pressure. The seasoning leaned salty, but the spices balanced the heavy aroma beautifully.
"I told them to add some green peppers to cut costs, but they said it tasted better like this." The Salamander seemed quite proud upon seeing Gotthardt's eyes light up.
"How long did they train for?" Gotthardt finished the bun in a few bites. Hard to believe this was the work of a few street kids. Grace had provided him with food before, but mostly instant meals; such handmade treats were rare.
"Five days." Ignis handed him a set of pancake rolls. "Kids growing up on the streets aren't usually stupid or timid. They just need guidance—and they can build something real."
"I didn't expect Salamanders to not only be master smiths but also master cooks." Gotthardt bit into the pancake. "This is excellent. Plenty of filling. Great texture."
Ignis handed him a bottle of water while staying alert to the surroundings. "All fire-based arts follow similar principles."
The old veteran sampled each food item the Salamander brought, offering high praise. Although it seemed like the two were sharing a meal, even the slightest disturbance would put both into combat readiness instantly.
Soon, a Belobog Heavy Industries helicopter arrived. Koleda Belobog did not even wait for it to land; she leapt down from over ten meters in the air. The small-statured CEO headed straight for Grace.
"She's uninjured," Gotthardt said. "But you should take her for treatment immediately."
"Understood. I'll thank you properly later." Koleda scooped Grace up with one arm, grabbed the rope ladder with the other, and soared away toward the nearest hospital.
Ignis did not insist on carrying her himself. Running sixty kilometers per hour with a person in his arms would attract Public Security attention and panic civilians. And Koleda's helicopter had been only minutes away—it wasn't worth the risk.
"So, I have to pretend to be a powerless machine here and wait for them to come retrieve me later." Gotthardt glanced at the message from Koleda Belobog on his phone. "Really hope I can get those mechanical arms installed soon."
"You'd better stay still then." Ignis cleaned the now-empty food containers. "I'm heading back. I have other problems to deal with."
"Remember to find out who did this." The old veteran gave one final reminder before closing the sarcophagus.
Ignis nodded and hurried away. As expected, he had not gone far when he heard the sirens of New Eridu Public Security patrol cars closing in on the warehouse district.
By the time the Salamander took multiple alleys and returned to the Cunning Hares' base, dawn was nearly breaking. Near their place, aside from Vesmir Forson's baozi stall, the other kids had their stalls open as well, and business looked decent. They spotted Ignis from afar and greeted him.
Ignis pushed open the door and found everyone in the Cunning Hares fully assembled, sitting in front of the television watching the news.
["Early this morning, a serious fire broke out at a warehouse belonging to Belobog Heavy Industries. According to initial reports, the fire erupted during pre-dawn hours and spread rapidly, but fortunately, thanks to the swift response and effective action from the company staff and the fire department, no casualties occurred."]
["Even more fortunate was that an Old Capital Engineering Machine recently excavated by Belobog Heavy Industries from within a Hollow was successfully evacuated in time, avoiding destruction by the blaze. This valuable machine holds immeasurable significance for studying Old Capital industrial development, and its safety is undoubtedly a tremendous relief to researchers."]
["New Eridu Public Security has already launched an investigation and is looking into the cause of the fire. We will continue following updates and provide timely reports to the public."]
Seeing the giant return, Nicole rolled her eyes. "Was it you again this time?"
The Salamander immediately waved his hands. "Not me. Belobog Heavy Industries was attacked. Their goal was to destroy that Leviathan Siege Dreadnought. The operation failed, but Grace Howard was sent to the hospital. Not from injury—exhaustion."
"Just earlier, Nicole was guessing whether you got into a fight with that guy who drives the giant robot and then set the warehouse on fire." Billy stood up. "I refuted her. A mech that cool couldn't possibly have such a petty setting."
There was a bit of conflict, but it was about the eating-people part…
"Now whenever Nicole sees warehouse fire news, she gets nervous nya. What you did last time was a little too much nya." Nekomata looked mischievous; the cat would never pass up a chance to tease someone—especially Nicole.
"Maybe Nicole's going to develop fire-related PTSD someday." Anby stated the brutally honest comment with a calm face, waiting for Nicole to snap.
Nicole, surrounded by everyone's teasing, looked exhausted, obviously lacking sleep. "So annoying! Rain sends me a blank message every day and I can't reach her at all. The Vision Corporation case is about to go to trial, and I feel like my head's about to explode. What is that hacker even doing?!"
As she spoke, Nicole's phone chimed again—multiple notifications in a row.
Annoyed, she pulled out her pink flip phone, her candy-colored nails tapping quickly as she opened the messages.
Still blank messages from Rain. Several in a row.
A sense of dread coiled in Nicole's chest. Did something happen to Rain?
She remembered Rain mentioning that many hackers were being followed. Had Rain run into danger? Rain had tricked her in the Red Fang Gang incident, yes, but they had been long-term partners. And Nicole had entrusted Rain with something that still hadn't been returned.
She had to find where Rain was.
Seeing Nicole snap her phone shut with a tense expression, Ignis knew another problem had appeared.
At that moment, the television switched to a preview program covering the upcoming Vision Corporation trial. It mentioned that both the defendant and the plaintiff would—per procedure—travel one day early aboard the Court's official airship to the Supreme Tribunal in New Eridu to await trial. To ensure that citizens could supervise the proceedings, the entire trial would be livestreamed.
Why does this feel like they're turning the trial into some kind of entertainment show…
"Right, Nicole—when's the hearing again?" Ignis remembered. That little wobbling dwarf Perlman still hadn't paid for what he'd done.
"Tomorrow. We'll be heading out soon to board the airship." Nicole sighed, picking up a pink women's business suit from the sofa along with matching glasses.
"Nicole asked us to prepare a bunch of Cunning Hares flyers to hand out to spectators at the trial!" Nekomiya Mana pulled out a whole stack of Cunning Hares pamphlets from who-knows-where.
"Oh no—my coat…" Ignis finally remembered that his formal outer jacket had been dirtied during the events in the early morning.
"No need. You're not going." Nicole stuffed the clothes into an already-overstuffed suitcase that was about to explode. "You're too tall. The airship won't fit you. So, stay at home and standby. Watch us shut the other side down in court."
Being tall came with its own problems. Ignis scratched his head. His hair had grown out again—it was time for another shave.
"You make sure Perlman spills everything he knows and pays for his crimes." The Salamander's eyes glowed faintly red. "Just like we agreed: let the law punish him. Otherwise, I'll have to go myself and make him pay."
"Of course. Who am I? I'm Nicole Demara of the Cunning Hares. The residents of Canvas Street entrusted me to be their legal representative—I'm not only going to win; I'm going to win beautifully."
The mistress of the Cunning Hares slapped her ample chest confidently.
"The main reason is the commission fee after winning is huge." Anby revealed the truth without mercy.
"That's only part of it!" Nicole immediately cut her off—just as her phone chimed again.
She opened it. Another five or six blank messages from Rain.
Her expression darkened instantly.
"Ignis. Armor on. Everyone—Sixth Street. We're finding Phaethon." The Cunning Hares' leader issued the order. "Let's see if their big computer can help us locate where Rain went."
The Cunning Hares immediately armed up, boarded the truck, and set out for Sixth Street.