Time in the Abyss didn't flow. It dripped.
There was no sun to mark the days, only the rhythmic belching of the smokestacks in the Rust Sprawl. CYCLE START. CYCLE END.
Kieran didn't sleep. His new titanium spine didn't ache, and the violet energy coursing through his veins kept his brain wired in a state of hyper-focus. He had become a ghost in the machine—a phantom that haunted the outskirts of the Lady's territory.
He crouched on a rusted gantry, overlooking a river of molten slag. The heat was intense enough to strip paint, but Kieran ignored it.
"Target approaching," Spam whispered. "Supply Convoy 4-Alpha. Carrying raw mana batteries and refined steel."
"Composition?" Kieran asked. His voice had lost its rasp. It was smooth, cold, and metallic.
"Two Rust-Knights. Four Scrappers. One... something big. I can't ID it. It looks like a walking furnace."
Kieran's violet eye zoomed in.
Below, the convoy trundled along the black road. The "something big" was a Slag-Hauler—a massive, bloated construct with a belly full of molten metal, armed with a high-pressure nozzle.
[Entity: Slag-Hauler.] [Danger: Extreme (AoE Fire Damage).]
"Fire," Kieran muttered. "I hate fire."
He looked at his right arm. The Crush-40 Piston was no longer yellow. Kieran had painted it matte black using the oil of dead machines to hide the reflection. He had also welded serrated spikes onto the knuckles.
"Vanguard," Kieran whispered. "Status."
A ripple of violet light traveled down Kieran's spine. The tattoo of the General burned hot.
"Ready," the voice echoed in his mind.
"Drop."
Kieran stepped off the gantry.
He fell forty feet. He didn't use a skill to slow down. He used mass.
BOOM.
He landed directly in front of the convoy, his heavy metal boots cracking the asphalt. The impact shook the ground, causing the lead Scrappers to skid to a halt.
The convoy froze. They saw a lone, broken figure with a massive arm blocking the road.
"Target verified!" a Rust-Knight screeched. "The Glitch! Open fire!"
The Rust-Knights raised their chainsaw-swords and revved them. The Slag-Hauler began to gurgle, its nozzle glowing bright orange.
Kieran stood up straight. He didn't raise his guard. He raised his left hand.
"Unzip: Vanguard."
FLASH.
The violet light exploded from Kieran's back. It coalesced instantly into a towering wall of steel.
Vanguard hit the ground.
He had changed. After three days of grinding, he was no longer just a patchwork warrior. He was a walking tank. His armor was thick, welded plates of black iron. His left arm was a shield made from a fortress door. His right arm wielded a Vibro-Greatsword stolen from an Elite Scrapper.
Vanguard roared—a sound like tearing metal—and charged.
The Rust-Knights met him.
CLANG. SCREECH.
Vanguard didn't fence. He plowed. He caught the first chainsaw-sword on his shield. He didn't recoil. He shoved forward, knocking the Knight off balance. Then he swung the Vibro-Greatsword.
ZZZZZT.
The vibrating blade sheared through the Knight's armor, through the chassis, and through the spine. The Knight fell in two clean pieces.
"Flank them!" Kieran commanded.
He ignored the infantry. He sprinted toward the Slag-Hauler.
The massive construct turned its nozzle toward him. A stream of liquid magma shot out.
"Lag Step!"
Kieran flickered out of reality. The magma splashed harmlessly on the ground where he had been.
He reappeared in the air, right above the Hauler's fuel tank.
"Gravity check," Kieran hissed.
He triggered the Piston Arm.
KA-CHUNK.
He punched the Hauler's top hatch. The force of the blow crumpled the thick steel. Kieran didn't stop. He grabbed the rim of the hole with his claw and ripped it open.
"Eat this."
He reached into his storage. He didn't summon a minion. He summoned a Scrap-Thrall—one of the exploding skeletons from the Undercroft.
He dropped the skeleton into the fuel tank.
"Deconstruct: Core."
Inside the tank, Kieran remotely detonated the skeleton's code.
WHUMP.
The explosion inside the Hauler was muffled, but catastrophic. The pressure spiked. The molten slag inside had nowhere to go.
The Hauler expanded like a balloon.
Kieran jumped off.
BOOM.
The construct exploded from the inside out. Molten slag sprayed everywhere, coating the remaining Scrappers and melting them instantly.
Kieran landed in a crouch, shielding himself from the shrapnel with his Piston Arm.
Silence returned to the road.
[Combat Complete.] [XP Gained: 800 Bytes.] [Loot Detected: Pristine Mana Battery (x4).]
Kieran stood up. Steam rose from his shoulders.
Vanguard walked over, dragging his sword. He was covered in soot, but undamaged.
"Secure the perimeter," Kieran ordered.
He walked over to the wreckage of the Slag-Hauler. He wasn't interested in the metal. He was interested in the loot.
He found the crates. Four glowing blue batteries. High grade.
"Dinner," Kieran said.
He cracked one open and downed the energy. His Integrity topped off at 100%. His Capacity was full.
But then, Spam's light flashed red.
"Kieran. Look at the lead Knight. The one Vanguard cut in half."
Kieran walked over to the bisected corpse.
"That's not a standard patrol unit. Look at the insignia."
Kieran wiped the oil away from the Knight's chest plate. Etched into the steel was a symbol: A golden gear with a red eye in the center.
"The Praetorian Guard," Kieran realized. "These are the Lady's elites."
"They weren't patrolling," Spam realized. "They were escorting something. Look at the lockbox on his belt."
Kieran ripped the box off the dead Knight. It was a heavy, encrypted data-drive.
"Hack it," Kieran said.
Spam scanned the box. "Encryption level: High. Give me ten seconds... Brute forcing... Done."
The box clicked open.
Inside, there was no weapon. There was a holographic chip.
Kieran picked it up. A map projected into the air.
It was a blueprint of the Fortress Gate.
"It's a rotation schedule," Spam noted, his voice trembling with excitement. "It details the maintenance cycles for the Centurions. Look here."
Spam pointed to a time slot.
"Cycle 42. The Centurions power down for 10 minutes to flush their coolant systems. Their sensors go offline. Their shields drop to 10%."
Kieran stared at the map. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
"A vulnerability," Kieran whispered. "A window."
"Cycle 42 is in three hours," Spam warned. "We can't build a Legion in three hours."
"We don't need a Legion," Kieran said, crushing the chip in his metal hand.
He looked at Vanguard. He looked at the wreckage of the Slag-Hauler.
"We just need a bomb big enough to crack the gate."
He turned to the destroyed Slag-Hauler. The tank was ruined, but the High-Pressure Nozzle and the Magma Pump were intact.
Kieran's eyes glowed violet.
"Spam. Is it possible to graft a magma pump onto a humanoid frame?"
Spam stared at Vanguard. Then he stared at Kieran.
"You want to turn your General into a walking volcano?"
"I want to turn him into a Siege Breaker," Kieran corrected.
He walked over to Vanguard.
"General. Drop your sword."
Vanguard obeyed instantly. The massive blade clattered to the ground.
"We're going to make some upgrades."