Chapter 81
Chapter 81
“Hey! Who did this job?! The lubricant is leaking everywhere!”
Guro Foundry main factory.
If hell had a landscape, this place would have been it.
Broken cables dangled from the ceiling like snakes, spraying sparks, while the floor was flooded with black wastewater mixed with hydraulic oil.
“Director, well… to match the rated voltage we have to route it through the transformer, but that unit broke down.”
“Then fix it.”
“The only one who knows the internal circuit diagram is Team Leader Yoon…”
“Then tear it apart and figure it out!”
Crack!
A red heat burst from Choi Manseok’s hand.
The shoulder guard of the junior technician whose collar he was grabbing melted like taffy.
“AAAH! Please spare me!”
The technician with the burned shoulder screamed and rolled on the floor.
“Useless bastard. Are you telling me the factory can’t run just because that traitor Yoon Imsu isn’t here?”
Choi Manseok’s eyes were bloodshot.
Yoon Imsu and twenty-three veteran combat engineers.
After those core figures disappeared, Guro Foundry was no different from a body with its brain ripped out.
No one understood the production process properly. The lines tangled into chaos, and without correct heat-treatment timing the steel plates being produced crumbled into brittle flakes.
The parts being manufactured now did not even match standard specifications. They rattled loosely—literal industrial scrap.
Resources were already scarce, and now the defect rate was skyrocketing. The situation was hopeless.
“If you fail to meet the Machine Society delivery quota by tomorrow morning, I’ll melt off all your arms and legs!”
Despite the terrifying shout, the technicians had nothing they could do.
“Let’s just match the quantity first.”
“Yes. Otherwise our heads will roll.”
Quality control was abandoned. They forced defective goods into boxes with bitter resignation.
“Why did Manager Yoon even…”
All they could do was resent Yoon Imsu, who had abandoned them and fled.
Ding—
At the notification sound of U-Link, I checked the terminal.
“Iron Arm?”
Even from the ID alone I could guess who it was.
The leader of the Machine Society.
He had contacted me—no, the public-facing figurehead Thunder—directly.
[I know Yoon Imsu defected to your side. Because of that, our supply line has been cut. This puts us in quite an awkward situation.]
[I’m contacting you because we’d like to purchase prosthetic arms, prosthetic legs, and ammunition for immediate use.]
That part was expected.
Without Yoon Imsu, Guro Foundry was nothing but a shell.
But what came next was interesting.
[Additionally… could you send the specification sheet and quotation for the bio-prosthetic arm that Jibgae brought last time? If the performance checks out, we’re willing to purchase in bulk.]
“Hm.”
I stroked my chin.
Repair parts were an immediate purchase, but the bio-prosthetic arm was only an inquiry.
—Boss! This fits perfectly, sir!
“Hm?”
—This guy’s testing the waters. He’s scared to cut ties with Guro completely, but he wants our stuff too! He’s playing both sides!
Hm.
Listening to Picker’s analysis, it sounded correct.
The moment someone installs a bio-prosthetic arm, it will no longer be compatible with Guro Foundry’s crude mechanical parts.
And visually it would be obvious.
In other words, it meant permanently severing ties with Guro.
The sergeant probably wanted to confirm whether Atlas’s technology was reliable enough to entrust their lives to.
“So it’s a test.”
The corner of my mouth rose.
The analysis was already complete anyway.
There was nothing difficult about it.
The fortification work at Mapo Police Station was finished in just a few days.
Repairing the concrete walls and reinforcing them with steel plates—nothing more than that.
“Everyone worked hard. This should be more than sufficient.”
“Don’t mention it. When the boss provides unlimited materials, failing would be negligence.”
Director Han Daeman joked lightly.
Since calling Yoon Imsu “lord” made everyone uncomfortable, they had agreed to use the title “Representative” instead.
Judging by their expressions, they were very curious about the turret, but something else required attention.
I handed them the request list sent by the sergeant.
“A new assignment. Prosthetic arm and prosthetic leg components for delivery to the Machine Society.”
“Ah, that’s easy. We participated in developing those.”
“No.”
I cut off Yoon Imsu.
“Until now there must have been compromises—because of resource shortages or lack of equipment.”
Their eyes widened.
“For example, using mild steel instead of titanium alloy to reduce bearing wear because titanium was too expensive. Or removing joint-range features because they raised the unit price.”
The technicians’ expressions turned serious as if struck at the core.
“What I want is not a cost-effective product. Mass production will be handled by others. I want you to implement the best performance you’ve only imagined until now. Refined raw materials, special alloys, precision motors… everything you need will be provided. That includes parts incorporating mutant tissue.”
“R-really?”
“With no limits?”
A manic light appeared in the technicians’ eyes.
It was the pure desire of engineers.
For craftsmen who had endured ten years of scarcity, unlimited resources were like a drug.
“We’ll start immediately!”
They buried themselves in work without even eating.
Half a day later, the result placed before me was astonishing.
Whir—click.
Director Han Daeman personally wore the prototype prosthetic leg and demonstrated it.
“The previous model transmitted impact directly to the spine whenever you ran due to play in the knee joint. But this one is different.”
He jumped straight up and landed.
Instead of a heavy thud, only a soft hydraulic hiss sounded.
“Did you see? We installed a dual-cylinder structure with a magic-responsive damper. Shock absorption increased by 400%. In addition, the ankle rotation angle was increased by 30 degrees, so it maintains traction even on slopes.”
Operative Kim Jihoon flexed the fingers of the prosthetic arm.
“We completely rebuilt the grip transmission system. The old wire system snapped constantly, but this time we used artificial tendons braided from carbon nanotubes. Response speed dropped from 0.5 seconds to 0.02 seconds.”
—Wow… Boss. Look at their eyes. They’re really excited. Do I look like that when I analyze data?
—No. You can’t make expressions. You’re not human.
—That’s discrimination. Drone discrimination, sir…
Seeing Picker look disappointed made me consider installing LED screens on the drones so they could display emoticon expressions.
Maybe it wouldn’t be bad.
Eventually cooperation between drones and humans would be necessary anyway.
Smiling with satisfaction, I approached the engineers.
“Excellent. With this level of quality, even the sergeant will be speechless. Now we need to move into mass production, so submit the final blueprints and process report.”
I accepted the thick stack of reports and diagrams they had organized overnight.
Then I returned to the workshop.
Until now I had simply disassembled items to obtain blueprints.
But the blueprints they created were essentially no different.
“Will it work?”
I input the report and blueprints into the Central Control System.
[Scanning…]
[Data analysis complete]
Ding!
[Blueprint: Precision Joint Module]
[Blueprint: High-Recoil Control Hydraulic Cylinder]
Success.
The new blueprints—reflecting decades of experience, trial and error, and creative ideas—settled neatly into the library.
Command people and absorb their wisdom.
That was the true power of a workshop owner.
I entered the acquired blueprints into the Automated Production Line.
“Begin production.”
Whirr—clank!
Four robotic arms moved like dancers.
500 High-Strength Joint Bearings.
500 Precision Hydraulic Cylinders.
In just one day, I produced the entire quantity requested by the Machine Society.
That was the result of a single “click” in the workshop.
I coated the finished parts with Information Concealment Paint.
Then I disguised them to look like Guro Foundry products—slightly older, even.
Delivery was handled by Shadow.
The stealth-equipped Toad drones loaded the cargo and, under cover of darkness, dropped it at a designated abandoned building near Yeongdeungpo.
Then I logged in with Thunder’s ID and sent a short message to the sergeant.
[The goods are ready. Come pick them up.]
Office of Kang Cheolwoo, leader of the Machine Society.
Two boxes sat on his desk.
The left one had been sent by Choi Manseok.
The right one had been sent by Thunder.
The sergeant opened the left box first.
A strong stench of oil burst out.
Rust had formed on parts of the bearings, and the cylinder finishing was rough.
“You’re telling me… they expect us to use this?”
Jibgae ground his teeth beside him.
“Commander, this is an insult. If we install these, the joints will break during combat and everyone will die.”
Defects meant death.
It sounded like a slogan that might be posted on a factory wall—but in a ruined world, it was simply the truth.
The sergeant silently opened the right box.
There was no smell.
The parts inside looked like ordinary refurbished components.
He picked up a bearing skeptically.
The heavy feel of metal.
He flicked it lightly with his fingertip.
Fiiiiiing—
Without even the faintest friction sound, it spun smoothly as if floating in the air.
Thirty seconds. One minute…
Even after time passed, the bearing showed no sign of stopping.
Rather, its smooth rotation seemed almost hypnotic, as if it were absorbing the surrounding light.
“Amazing.”
This time he took out the cylinder and pressed it.
The moment the piston slid inward, a dense pressure transmitted to his fingertips.
The reactive force responded perfectly in proportion to the pushing force.
There was no play. No rattling.
“This isn’t just well made.”
The sergeant looked down at his mechanical arm.
Every night the joint throbbed with pain, accompanied by grinding noises.
He had thought that was normal.
But looking at these parts, he painfully realized that he had been living with trash all this time.
“Jibgae.”
“Yes!”
“Weigh this and the one from Guro.”
Jibgae held a part in each hand.
His left hand sank heavily, but the right felt light as a feather.
“The Atlas one… is about 30% lighter. But it feels much stronger.”
“Strength test.”
Jibgae nodded, placed the Guro bearing on the workbench, and slammed it with a wrench.
Clang!
With a loud crash the bearing deformed, and the balls popped out.
“Trash.”
Next was the Atlas bearing.
Jibgae took a deep breath and swung the wrench with a shout.
BANG!
The workbench shook from the impact.
But the bearing remained intact.
Instead, the wrench’s surface dented inward.
Jibgae’s eyes widened.
“It appears to use a titanium alloy.”
“And at this price?”
It wasn’t just durable.
The structure absorbed and dispersed shock.
Only someone who perfectly understood battlefield data could create something like this.
“Commander, look at this. Even the threads at the coupling point. Perfect. There’s no tolerance error at all.”
Jibgae, hands trembling, fitted the cylinder onto his damaged prosthetic leg.
Without any adjustments, it clicked perfectly into place.
Feeling his leg move without resistance, Jibgae shuddered.
The sergeant leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
The game was over.
“Choi Manseok is finished. No… he was never a match to begin with.”
Until now they had traded with Guro out of loyalty—or simply because there was no alternative.
But now it was clear.
Who they needed to join hands with in order to save their men and obtain greater strength.
“Cut all transactions with Guro.”
“Commander!”
“And pass that information along. As a token of thanks—and as a sign of our future cooperation. It’s useless to us, but it will probably help them greatly.”