The scent of stale oil and ozone hung heavy in the air of Sector 7, a tangible reminder of the Dominion's endless war and the constant wear and tear it inflicted on its machines. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, both mechanical and, occasionally, organic.
The Iron Cradle – Kaelen's pathetic, sputtering mecha – was parked awkwardly next to a crumbling concrete wall, leaking a thin, black fluid that looked suspiciously like coolant mixed with ancient rust. The ground beneath it was stained a greasy, iridescent black.
Kaelen, exhausted but buzzing with hidden energy, sat on a discarded crate, the rough wood digging into his worn trousers. He'd spent the last hour running diagnostics in his head, cross-referencing the System's data with his limited understanding of mecha mechanics. The Nexus System was brutally honest: his Frame was weaker than the baseline mecha issued to janitors. It was an insult on legs, a walking monument to failure.
[IRON CRADLE (Unique)]
POWER CORE: 5/10 (DRAINED)
CURRENT PRIMARY WEAPON: SCRAP CHOPPER (Tier 0 - Broken)
WARNING: LOW MOBILITY. EXTREME VULNERABILITY TO TIER 1 MONSTERS.
He suppressed a sigh. The reality was even worse than he'd feared. "Maintenance duty," the Proctor had sneered. It was a euphemism for being sent to the fringe sectors where Tier 1 monsters – mostly low-level Rust Hounds and sluggish, metallic Scrabbers – were a constant problem. A person with a functional mecha dealt with them easily; Kaelen had to be cautious, relying on stealth and the element of surprise to survive.
He pulled his System screen open, reviewing his only skill: [HUNT: Active. Automatically harvests materials from slain hostiles.] It was a simple skill, but potentially game-changing. If it worked as he suspected, he could bypass the tedious and dangerous resource hunts that everyone else relied on.
Time to test the theory.
The sounds of scraping metal announced the arrival of the Sector 7 team – a grizzled foreman, his face etched with years of hard labor, two tired older mechanics, their overalls stained with oil and grime, and, unfortunately, a shining example of teenage arrogance.
The rival's name was Dax. He had manifested a Silver Talon, a sleek, aerial-focused mecha that glittered even in the dim light of the sector. The Talon was a status symbol – fast, agile, and packing twin laser cannons. It was everything the Iron Cradle wasn't: powerful, impressive, and deadly.
Dax brought his mecha to a halt a few feet from Kaelen's mess, the Talon's optical sensors fixed on the Iron Cradle. The mecha didn't need to speak; the contempt was clear in the way its polished alloy reflected the light, highlighting the Iron Cradle's rusted, battered form.
"Well, look who the Cradle dragged in," Dax said, his voice crackling with superiority over the external speakers. The synthetic amplification made his words sound even more condescending. "They finally assigned a cleaning crew to Sector 7's scrap heap. Oh, wait. That is the cleaning crew."
The other mechanics chuckled, but the foreman remained impassive, his eyes fixed on Kaelen with a mixture of pity and impatience.
Kaelen ignored the jab, climbing back into his rusty cockpit. The air inside smelled faintly of burnt copper and decaying metal. He strapped himself into the worn seat, ignoring the familiar creaks and groans of the Frame. "Proctor assigned me here. Same as you, Dax."
"Same as me? My Silver Talon cleared five miles of tunnel of Scrabbers this morning. What has your… whatever that thing is, going to do? Scare the rats? Maybe rust them to death?" Dax let out a synthetic chuckle, a harsh, grating sound. "Don't worry, Maintenance Boy. Just stay behind me when the real work starts. I need witnesses for my kill count."
Kaelen clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to retort. He needed to prove himself, not argue. He needed kills, loot, and upgrades.
The foreman pointed toward a partially collapsed tunnel mouth, its entrance blocked by a tangle of twisted metal and debris. "Tunnel 32. Heavy infestation of Rust Hounds. Dax, you take point. Kaelen, you try not to leak oil on the structural supports."
The mission was simple: clear a path through the monsters and secure the tunnel for resource extraction. Dax zipped away instantly, his Silver Talon a blur of silver and blue, leaving a trail of ionized air in its wake.
Kaelen followed, the Iron Cradle protesting with every jerky movement. The engine sputtered and coughed, the treads slipped on the loose gravel, and the whole Frame vibrated with a bone-jarring intensity.
The tunnel was cramped, dark, and filled with the low growl of metallic life. The air grew thick with the smell of rust and decay. Dax was right. The Iron Cradle was slow, clumsy, and hopelessly outmatched.
[WARNING: RUST HOUNDS DETECTED (3 UNITS). IMMINENT ENGAGEMENT.]
Dax saw the Hounds first. The Silver Talon spun, unleashing a rapid burst of emerald laser fire. Two Hounds exploded into fragmented plates and sparking wires – clean, efficient kills. He didn't even break a sweat.
Pop-up noise. Kaelen held his breath, waiting for the System screen.
[RUST HOUND (Tier 1) slain by ALLY.]
[LOOT ACQUIRED: 0]
Of course. The System required his kill. It was a gamble, a risk he had to take. The passive [HUNT] skill was useless if he didn't land the killing blow.
The remaining Rust Hound – larger and with sharper claws – charged Dax, distracting him. Dax pivoted the Silver Talon clumsily, its cannon overheating. The Hound leaped, its claws extended, tearing at the Talon's armor.
This was Kaelen's chance. He focused all his core power, pushing the rickety Iron Cradle forward. He ignored the broken Scrap Chopper, knowing it was useless in its current state. Instead, he activated the only thing he knew the Frame could do: ramming speed.
The pathetic mech slammed into the back of the Hound. It was a weak impact, barely enough to stagger the creature. But it was his.
The Hound stumbled, and Kaelen immediately followed up with the only intact piece of equipment: a small, repurposed maintenance claw that he'd mounted on the left arm. It was designed for repairs, not combat, but it was all he had.
Screeeech!
The claw ripped into the Hound's back plating, tearing through rusted metal and sparking wires. The monster shrieked, a high-pitched whine of pain and anger, and fell apart in a shower of sparks and oil.
Dax turned just in time to see the wreckage. "What the—?"
Kaelen, ignoring the shame of using a maintenance claw, felt the System reward him immediately.
[RUST HOUND (Tier 1) slain by HOST.]
[LOOT ACQUIRED: 5x Iron Filings, 1x Minor Energy Crystal.]
[NEW: 1x Rusted Actuator (Common)]
[INVENTORY: 1x Minor Energy Crystal. USE? Y/N]
Kaelen hammered the mental 'Y'. Instantly, a surge of energy flowed into the Iron Cradle's core. The rattling stopped. The cockpit lights went from dim amber to bright, clear green. The Frame felt…different. More responsive, more powerful.
[POWER CORE: 5/10 -> 6/10]
Dax stomped toward him, his Silver Talon looming over the Iron Cradle. "Did you just… claw that thing? You wasted energy on a maintenance maneuver!"
"It's dead, isn't it?" Kaelen replied, his voice flat. He felt the subtle difference in his Frame's responsiveness. The single Minor Energy Crystal hadn't fixed it, but it had made it better. He had a taste of progress, and he wanted more.
He looked past Dax, deeper into the tunnel. A full run of this sector could give me 20 Energy Crystals. And with the [HUNT] skill, I could gather enough Iron Filings to…
"Come on," Kaelen said, urging the Iron Cradle forward, leaving the stunned Dax behind. "I'm on a deadline."