The air seemed to freeze solid.
The captain's mouth hung open. The torrent of gratitude, admiration, and questions he had prepared was stuck in his throat, turning into a series of meaningless syllables.
'An investigative analysis?'
'At a time like this, having just escaped the abyss of death, the first thing this man did was ask for documents?'
'Simply ruthless.'
Allen's expression didn't flicker in the slightest, and he paid their loss of composure no mind.
Behind him, the Eight-winged Angel, Gabriel, floated silently. Its pure-white mechanical body was unstained by a single speck of dust, yet its presence was more chilling than the biting winds of the Wailing Icefield.
"Your Recording Crystals. Or your mission logs."
Allen added, "I want all observational data on these autonomous Mechanical Bodies. That includes their behavioral patterns, energy signatures, reconfiguration patterns, and any weaknesses you identified while fighting them."
