Workshop Street (2)
There were swords, of course, but there was also a method for those who hated the idea of blades against their skin.
'Powered exoskeleton.'
The top-grade models offered flawless full-body protection with superior defense, their output comparable to a 10-meter-tall titan.
Naturally, the powered exoskeleton Allen had in mind wasn't anything like that. It granted even ordinary people the physical prowess of mana users—perfect gear for someone with a body as frail as his.
Allen headed to a shop selling powered exoskeletons. Workshop Street wasn't exclusively full of workshops; massive stores dotted the area here and there, and the one he entered was one of them.
The first floor displayed a wide variety of exoskeletons—from major corporations like Hextech and Chilseong, to budget options from small firms, and even handmade artisanal pieces.
As Allen calculated performance against price to pick one out, his left eye suddenly projected an arrow. His head turned instinctively to follow it, landing on the escalator descending from the second floor.
The arrow pointed at a woman in a riding jacket and jeans.
'Who...'
The question didn't linger. Noise distorted her face, revealing her true appearance.
To be precise, his right eye saw the hologram's illusion, while his left pierced straight through to the reality beneath.
It was the gray-haired woman. Just like in the Labyrinth, her eyes were closed.
Allen tried to pretend he hadn't noticed, but her head turned toward him anyway—somehow aware of her surroundings despite her closed eyes.
Holoskin was a disguise magitech tool that cloaked the user from head to toe in illusion, hiding their true identity.
Everyone from the bottom-feeding scavengers harvesting organs in the slums to the power brokers at the top carried at least one.
Disguise was all about hiding one's true face, after all. Yet this Breaker operative kept approaching Allen.
Even when he turned away, pretending to examine gear mounted on the wall, she inched closer. He couldn't fathom why.
'Why's she coming over? Did she figure out I was controlling that bird? The cockpit area got completely smashed during the fight.'
Even so, the bird wasn't anything special. It had different Star Letters input from the other automatons, and its soul stone was an Oparts, but it was just something from the Labyrinth.
As he pondered, the woman drew near and spoke quietly.
"No trouble, right?"
It was nothing like what Allen expected. He'd thought she was here to interrogate him, not check on his well-being.
"What do you mean by that...?"
"The explorers I busted last time belong to a guild with a bad rep. We're keeping an eye on them, so they won't act rashly, but just in case."
"Ah, the Labyrinth's that kind of place."
You never knew in there if death came from a monster or a fellow explorer.
If Allen's skills had fallen short back then—or if help had arrived too late—who knew what might've happened.
"Would you mind telling me which guild?"
"Roman Company. They're into Labyrinth exploration, mercenary work—anything that needs muscle."
"I'll be careful."
He had no choice but to stay even more cautious than before. Unless you were on a major corporation's deep-layer expedition team, explorers didn't wear guild badges.
'Hiding affiliations is normal anytime.'
Truth be told, it was laughable to think a guild that size would attack Allen to avenge some punk caught robbing people.
"How'd you recognize me from over there, anyway?"
"Even prisoners get visitors. Plus, not many people wander the Labyrinth solo with an automaton."
Allen nodded.
"Is that why you approached me?"
"Not just that. Those eyes—what are they?"
"..."
"I thought they were standard artificial eyes last time. Didn't expect them to see right through a holoskin."
Allen's eyes had activated for only an instant, which meant her mana sensing was extraordinarily sharp.
"Where'd you get 'em?"
"Not from any corporation or workshop."
"So, custom magitechwear you're developing yourself? Got it."
She accepted it without pushback. In truth, crafting personal magitechwear was incredibly tough—especially something as complex as eyes wired straight to the brain, not some simple limb prosthetic.
As Allen wondered why she'd bought it so easily, she scanned him over once.
"So, what's your business here?"
"Needed a powered exoskeleton. Realized I could use the mobility boost."
"Powered exoskeleton? You've got a Mana Heart."
Her slender finger pointed at his chest—right at the Mana Heart.
"With mana overflowing like that, body enhancement should be a breeze."
Having mana didn't make body enhancement easy. People had innate limits to their talent, and breaking them was brutally hard.
Allen's issue wasn't talent; it was his body. Mana excess syndrome was already eating away at his flesh—circulating mana for enhancement would be like dumping capsaicin on a spicy meal.
"Personal reasons. I'm avoiding body enhancement."
"Having trouble with it? Want me to help?"
"..."
Allen shut his mouth. Mana guidance wasn't simple. It wasn't just pointing out paths; enhancing the body required intricate steps. Not something you did for just anyone.
As he stared, wondering what she was thinking, her face showed no emotion.
'To her, that's nothing.'
She clearly saw mana guidance as basic as "breathe in air, expand your lungs, breathe out."
A genius, plain and simple. The kind who could deflect bullets with a sword—it figured.
Now he understood why she'd accepted his eyes so readily.
'Mastering the body comes easy to her, so she assumes others can handle other fields.'
Her offer tempted him, but Allen shook his head.
Someone like her would spot his condition the moment she touched him. He'd only told Yohwa because she was a doctor; he didn't want it spreading otherwise.
"I'm good. Appreciate the offer."
"It's easier than you think... Fine, what's your name?"
She must've forgotten the name he'd given during the incident debrief. He wasn't famous, so it made sense.
"Allen."
"Sion."
Sion, having shared her name, pointed out exoskeletons one by one, rattling off explanations.
"For long Labyrinth runs, stick to big corp stuff. Hextech's durability is nuts—you'd have a hard time breaking it on purpose. Chilseong focuses on output, so stability and toughness take a hit."
"Sounds like you've got experience."
At Allen's words, Sion unzipped her long bag. Inside were swords, all stamped with Hextech's hexagram or Chilseong's Big Dipper mark.
"You carry a lot of weapons."
"Swords are consumables."
"Consumables...?"
The runes and craftsmanship were incredible. Just the blade engravings showed at least four: [Enhancement], [Elasticity], [Offset], [Sharpness].
"Not a fan of damage runes like [Flame] or [Freeze]?"
"Why bother? Just slash 'em."
Sion had the creds to say that.
Conversation wrapped, Allen selected Chilseong's model: a black matte-coated frame running from soles up the outer legs to the waist.
Durability issues were relative to other giants; it outclassed small firms or black-market gear.
And if it broke, Allen could fix it. Modding his eyes and Lynx had deepened his rune knowledge—he could handle two at once now.
Having wrapped up his unexpected shopping trip, Allen walked the street and asked Sion,
"Does Breaker have secret squads too?"
"Know too much, you get hurt."
"..."
"Kidding. It's secret, so it's a secret squad. That's all you need."
No more intel forthcoming. And Breaker wasn't unique anyway.
What city didn't have a covert unit or two? Chilseong and Hextech had private armies. No government oversight here in autonomous Maze City.
As they exited the street, Sion hugged the roadside. Allen glanced at her true face beyond the holoskin. Eyes still closed.
"The closed eyes—some special training?"
"Nah. World's too filthy."
As Sion replied, a black sports car pulled tight to the curb. No driver; steering wheel and gears moved on their own.
Sion slipped into the auto-opening door.
"See you if fate allows."
Rush hour clogged the roads, but traffic gave her car a wide berth. Even ambulances got less respect.
Allen, now wearing his exoskeleton, headed for the monorail station.
An orc with golem prosthetic arms strode by, followed by elves linked by cables sharing senses, then a goblin slinging a massive shotgun.
So many eccentric sights that Allen's exoskeleton barely registered.
Allen had grown used to the city too—no more gawking like a bumpkin. His left eye just greedily scanned every magitechwear and magitech device it passed.
'Most wear holoskins on missions, true faces off-duty, right?'
Thinking of Sion, Allen boarded the arriving monorail. Public transit kept moving without snags. Stations barely paused—people rushed in and out too fast.
He got off near Breaker and headed to his capsule hotel. Walking beside the jammed road, a familiar black car caught his eye. He turned: the same sports car.
Staying at a hotel near Breaker while she lived in one of their buildings—running into her wasn't odd.
"..."
"..."
All that fate talk, and they meet again same day. Awkward.
Sion pretended not to see him, acting like she was just checking for the light.
*
The day after visiting Workshop Street, Allen dove straight into the Labyrinth.
With the mobility aid, it took less effort than going bare-bodied, and his pace quickened noticeably.
He didn't challenge the sluice gate boss right away, taking time to adapt. His weak body and poor coordination demanded it.
Starting on layers 4-5, he gradually went deeper. Sometimes he left one automaton behind and sparred with his staff.
He stopped at camps between layers for side gigs too.
Word had spread a bit about the magitech engineer soloing with his Lynx—people started recognizing him.
Nothing major, just the cheap-repair guy.
"Gimme your contact."
"Why?"
"Gotta do after-service if the gear acts up."
"Then don't touch it and take it back."
"See? Knew you'd say that."
Occasional friction with shady types, but most resolved smoothly.
"Don't want it? Piss off."
"Thought it was big corp stuff—logo's some no-name brand I've never heard of."
Camps at layer junctions drew plenty of explorers, all hoping Allen would keep repairing.
No him, and they'd have to surface—better not scare off the guy with all the weirdos buzzing around.
But they had their own angles too.
"Solo? Can't haul all the loot, right? Automaton bodies ain't cheap—waste 'em all, and you're screwed."
"Not saying join our party, but wanna check us out?"
A lone magitech engineer was honey on a tree—bugs swarmed.
Polite refusals didn't stick; different camps, different explorers pitching the same. Allen