But the job wasn't done. The storm's tether had shredded the main support cables. Thousands of tiny, hair-thin fiber-optic wires were frayed, hanging like metallic weeping willow branches. "Look at this mess," she sighed, moving her harness along the line. "It's like a cat got into a ball of yarn. Why do I do this to myself?" The answer to the question was easy: because she needed to level up and close the rifts in her world.
Those simple repair jobs had to be saved for repairmen like Nine, who were not in a hurry to level up. At the moment, she longed to be like him.
She grabbed the first bundle. Each wire had to be aligned perfectly, or the data flow for the bridge's suspension defense system would glitch. If she messed up, the people who used the bridge would end up falling into the abyss and becoming food for the creatures below.
