Floor 6 was a labyrinth of active machinery, and the Nemesis Court had twisted it into a slaughterhouse.
Stamping presses slammed down with enough hydraulic force to flatten reinforced steel, their safety governors completely stripped. Rerouted welding arms swung in erratic, unpredictable arcs, their tips glowing white-hot. Massive conveyor belts roared along the grated floor—some carrying half-finished constructs, others running in reverse, waiting to drag an unwary Climber into a grinding mess of exposed gears. The air was a suffocating soup of vaporized oil, ozone, and the metallic tang of melting iron.
