The upper levels of the orbital station were nothing like the flooded decay of Sector Four.
The air here was cold and sterile, violently scrubbed clean by massive ventilation turbines that roared somewhere deep inside the station's infrastructure. The narrow rusted corridors of the lower levels were replaced by wide loading bays, reinforced bulkheads, and sealed blast doors marked with stark yellow hazard stripes.
This was where the real machinery of the station operated.
Cargo moved here.
Ships docked here.
Security existed here.
Kael moved silently through the access tunnels.
His boots made no sound against the reinforced steel decking. The Iron Body tier had changed more than just the durability of his flesh. It had recalibrated the density of his body, allowing him perfect control over his own movement.
Every step carried weight.
But none of it wasted energy.
His objective was simple.
He needed a ship.
Hunting a billion-credit corporate heiress required crossing open space. A stolen cargo skiff or civilian shuttle would be destroyed instantly by the perimeter defense grid surrounding any corporate cruiser.
He didn't just need transportation.
He needed something that could move unseen.
A ghost.
The fragments of data Kael had ripped from the dead cyborg's network cache had pointed him toward a restricted docking bay controlled by the Bloodhand Guild.
Hangar 44.
It was their vault.
A place where impounded ships were stored before being stripped, sold, or quietly absorbed into guild operations.
Kael reached the perimeter corridor overlooking the hangar.
He didn't bother with the heavily armored main entrance.
Instead, he climbed a stack of empty cargo crates and vaulted upward, grabbing the lip of a ventilation shaft mounted near the ceiling.
The steel grate covering the vent came free with a quiet metallic groan when he pulled.
Kael tossed it aside and looked down.
The hangar was enormous.
Floodlights illuminated the wide landing deck below, reflecting off polished steel flooring and towering scaffolding structures that surrounded several docked ships.
But one vessel dominated the center of the bay.
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly.
It was beautiful.
Not in the flamboyant way the wealthy decorated their cruisers with gold plating and decorative thrusters.
This ship was different.
It was sleek.
Predatory.
The hull was composed entirely of matte-black geometric angles designed to absorb radar and thermal scans. The narrow fuselage tapered forward like a spearhead, while the twin thruster banks were hidden inside heavy dampening housings.
No running lights.
No markings.
No registry.
It was a stealth pursuit vessel.
A hunter.
Kael recognized the intent behind its design immediately.
The ship was built for silent movement and violent speed.
Perfect.
He dropped down from the ventilation shaft onto the upper gantry overlooking the hangar floor.
Nearly thirty mercenaries occupied the deck below.
Some cleaned weapons.
Others moved cargo crates.
A few monitored smaller fighter craft docked along the side walls.
The moment Kael's boots touched the metal grating, the activity stopped.
Every head turned.
The anomaly had arrived.
News traveled quickly inside criminal networks. The guild already knew about the slaughter in the maintenance corridors.
The man with no energy signature.
The one who tore through augmented killers with his bare hands.
A heavy klaxon suddenly blared through the hangar.
The lights shifted instantly from white to crimson.
"Kill box!" someone shouted.
"Light him up!"
The ceiling above Kael split open with a grinding metallic roar.
Two massive anti-ship turrets dropped from hidden compartments.
Each weapon was the size of a compact car, fitted with rotating magnetic barrels designed to fire high-density plasma rounds capable of shredding light transport vessels.
Both turrets locked onto Kael.
Then they fired.
The barrage was deafening.
Blue plasma bolts tore through the air in rapid succession, hammering into the gantry.
Kael didn't dodge.
He widened his stance and crossed his arms in front of his face.
The barrage hit him directly.
The impact slammed into his body like a collapsing wall. The kinetic force pushed him backward across the gantry, his boots carving deep grooves into the steel floor.
The remaining fragments of his shirt disintegrated instantly.
Plasma splashed against his bare skin in violent bursts of blue light.
But the Iron Body held.
The superheated energy spread across his forearms and chest in burning waves, unable to penetrate the dense cellular structure reinforced by Qi.
Smoke rose from his skin.
But the flesh did not break.
Below, the mercenaries stared upward in disbelief.
Those turrets could shred armored transports.
The man on the gantry was simply standing there.
Taking the barrage.
Kael lowered his arms.
His skin was blackened and smoking, but the damage was shallow.
Temporary.
He looked up at the turrets calmly.
Then he reached upward.
His hands closed around the glowing barrels.
The metal screamed.
Kael twisted his wrists.
The thick mounting brackets snapped instantly.
Power cables tore free in a shower of sparks as Kael ripped both turrets from the ceiling.
He threw the destroyed weapons over the edge of the gantry.
They crashed onto the deck below with a thunderous impact.
The silence lasted half a second.
Then panic erupted.
"Fire!"
Thirty rifles opened up at once.
Energy bolts, plasma rounds, and ballistic projectiles filled the air.
Kael stepped off the gantry.
He fell thirty feet.
His body slammed into the center of the mercenary formation.
The impact detonated like a small explosion.
Steel floor plates buckled outward as a shockwave blasted through the formation, knocking several mercenaries off their feet.
The slaughter began.
Kael moved through the chaos with brutal efficiency.
A mercenary lunged with a stun baton crackling with electricity.
The weapon struck Kael's shoulder.
He ignored it.
His palm drove upward into the attacker's jaw.
Bone shattered instantly.
The body dropped.
Another mercenary raised a shotgun.
Kael grabbed the barrel and crushed it flat.
His knee slammed into the man's chest.
Armor collapsed inward.
The mercenary collapsed with a choking gasp.
Blaster fire slammed into Kael's back and shoulders as he moved.
The shots burned.
But they couldn't stop him.
He ripped cybernetic limbs from their sockets.
Crushed reinforced helmets.
Shattered spines with single strikes.
He didn't fight like a martial artist.
He fought like gravity.
Relentless.
Unavoidable.
Then the hangar shook.
Heavy metal footsteps echoed across the floor.
A massive industrial loader mech emerged from beneath the scaffolding.
It stood nearly two meters tall, covered in bolted plasteel armor. Its hydraulic arms ended in massive crushing claws designed to lift cargo containers.
Inside the armored cockpit, the pilot roared in rage.
The mech charged.
The claws rose high above Kael's head.
Kael didn't step back.
He stepped forward.
Directly inside the machine's reach.
The claws slammed downward.
Kael slid beneath them.
His fist shot forward.
The punch struck the cockpit.
The sound was like thunder.
The three-inch plasteel viewing panel exploded inward.
Kael's arm plunged into the cockpit.
His fingers closed around the pilot's harness.
He pulled.
The restraints snapped.
The screaming pilot was ripped out through the shattered cockpit window and thrown across the hangar.
The mech staggered.
Hydraulics failed.
The massive machine collapsed sideways onto the floor with a deafening crash.
Silence followed.
The surviving mercenaries stared at the wreckage.
Destroyed turrets.
Broken bodies.
A collapsed mech.
All caused by one man.
One mercenary dropped his rifle.
The weapon clattered loudly against the floor.
He turned and ran.
The others followed instantly.
Within seconds the hangar was empty.
Kael stood alone among the wreckage.
He didn't chase them.
They were no longer relevant.
He turned toward the stealth vessel waiting at the center of the hangar.
The boarding ramp was already lowered.
Kael walked up it.
The interior of the ship was immaculate.
Smooth black composite walls.
Soft ambient lighting.
Silent corridors.
He stepped onto the command deck.
A sharp chime echoed.
The lighting flashed red.
"Warning," a calm synthetic voice announced.
"Unauthorized biological presence detected."
"Lockdown protocols initiating."
Kael stepped forward.
"Primitive," he murmured.
He placed his palm against the command console.
Artificial Qi surged from his body into the circuitry.
The glass interface spider-webbed instantly.
Energy flooded through the ship's systems like a storm tearing through fragile wiring.
The processors screamed.
Then the resistance broke.
The red lights vanished.
Navigation displays flickered to life.
The ship hummed softly.
"Security override successful," the voice announced.
"Biometrics registered."
"Welcome aboard, pilot."
"The Eclipse is now under your command."
Kael removed his hand from the cracked console.
Outside the cockpit window, the hangar doors waited.
Beyond them lay the endless black void.
And somewhere within that void—
A billion-credit heiress.
The Eclipse hummed beneath his feet.
Kael Vance finally had a weapon.
Now it was time to hunt.