Full-Metal Foe and Warehouse Assault
A blue light poured out from it, forming a flat screen on the table in front of the sofa. A bust of someone materialized there.
"Nobak..."
Allen narrowed his eyes. The spot where his graying hair had once been was now covered by a thick metal plate. His jaw was reinforced with metal too, leaving its crude shape plainly visible. Still, his face was the same as before, making him easy to recognize.
Vito swallowed hard. Trying to mask his fear, he threw in a bit of humor in his own way.
"He's gone full Full-Metal Nobak. Must've been tough to fix after we—no, you—got him. Taylor, any info on his lower body?"
"You bet."
The screen stretched vertically, revealing Nobak's full body. The three-dimensional figure slowly rotated. His torso below the chest was packed solid with metal framework.
To an outsider, it might look like an automaton with just a human face skin slapped on. The gap between his old self and this was that stark.
Shiba glanced at Taylor, and their eyes met.
"What?"
"It's nothing, brother."
"Your eyes are giving you away, disrespectful as hell. Think no one notices if you keep your mouth shut?"
"It just... looks kinda similar."
"Similar? It's completely different. I've swapped out plenty of my body too, but not to that extent. And he's even got proper synthetic skin on."
While Taylor and Shiba bickered, Allen talked with Vito.
"We definitely put a hole in his head. How'd he survive?"
"If I knew that, I'd be a doctor myself."
"If it had been a lead slug, it would've shredded his insides, but since it was a mana round, maybe it just vanished on its own. So how much of his memory is intact? There had to be brain damage."
"Some folks back up to brain expansion devices, but they can't hold everything."
"Human memory's just that vast. Still, chasing us this far means his grudge against us is rock-solid."
Vito closed his eyes and crossed his arms. Even gripping his other forearm tightly couldn't hide the trembling in his shoulders. He'd thought he'd been freed when they took down Nobak, but the terror imprinted from childhood lingered.
Allen placed a hand on Vito's shoulder and stayed silent. The shaking gradually subsided.
"Show us the next intel."
Nobak's full-body hologram vanished, replaced by an old factory. A semicircular roof capped the rectangular building.
"Even on the city outskirts, he found a spot like this."
"Corona Cartel's drug distribution joint. There's a gang in Maze City that receives their stuff, and it says he got the intro through them."
"What about the cops?"
"Hard to blame just the police. Special autonomous city status, corporations off the leash, people flocking to the labyrinth—it's a mess of overlapping problems. Anyway, let's check out the warehouse."
"Looks rundown, but security's tight."
A prefab building was attached to the factory side, and a machine-gun turret sat on the roof. Cartel members patrolled in pairs.
"What's the inside like?"
"They've got divers on their side too, so couldn't breach that far. But doesn't it seem off?"
Allen had a hunch what Taylor meant. He'd accepted Nobak chasing them, but seeing the warehouse's setup and manpower raised doubts.
"For catching two barely-adult magitech engineers, that's a lot of firepower."
"Exactly. Are those eyes that important?"
"A few hypotheses come to mind."
"Like what?"
"Nobak's lost to rage, or he really values the eyes, or they're worth more than we imagine and he can't let go, or lastly—someone else owns him now."
"All plausible. Oh, almost forgot this guy."
Taylor blinked, and the warehouse disappeared, replaced by a green bulk. He wore a beak-like mask reminiscent of a plague doctor.
"Cartel exec or boss? Orc?"
"Kiri's intel says exec. Not sure if it's his real name, but they call him Kaka."
"Sounds like goblin naming convention."
"Spot on."
Without the mask, a classic goblin face appeared: pointed elongated nose, greedy eyes, and innate baldness screaming goblin.
"Why's a goblin that huge? He's gotta be over 2 meters."
"Beats me. Maybe chugged protein instead of formula."
With the briefing done, Taylor stood. They knew the enemy's location—no time to dawdle.
Avoiding combat was best, but if a fight was inevitable, it should be on enemy turf. Winning on home ground just left ruins.
"Let's go tonight. Finish it before their divers pinpoint us."
"Me?"
"You stay here, Vito. Hit the button under the rune printer for the panic room if you're worried."
Vito nodded immediately. He'd just be another burden if he tagged along. Back when they escaped Nobak Clinic, maybe, but now the gap was too wide.
Allen left the fearful Vito in the warehouse and stepped out. The solution to the problem causing Vito terror and Allen annoyance was simple: eliminate the source.
So much research to do, and he chases us all the way here...
Inside the shabby building, rusted machinery lay abandoned everywhere—definitely a warehouse.
The people milling about showed no discipline, but all were armed with firearms or blades. Their rough looks screamed hard lives.
Even these brazen types avoided one spot: a second-floor office overlooking the floor below.
"Damn it!"
A curse erupted from the office. The startled cartel grunts exchanged grimaces, then shrugged it off and got back to work.
Inside the office, an old man sat on a worn sofa. His face was elderly, but his body was packed with metal—proven by the sofa sagging deeply under him.
The old man—Nobak—pulled a syringe from a nearby canister and held it upside down. With his other hand, he opened the chest plate, revealing what little flesh remained. The needle plunged in without hesitation.
He tossed the empty syringe aside and gasped raggedly. The drug took effect, steadying his breaths.
"Nobak."
At the call, Nobak shifted only his eyes. There stood Kaka, muscles bulging.
"..."
"You dosing the painkillers, nerve stabilizers, and side-effect reducers at the ratio I told you?"
"I got it handled."
"Handled my ass. Who dragged me to this shithole with its filthy air? How d'you think I'd feel if the guy who fucked up passed out before the job's done?"
"..."
"If that happened, you should've come with us. Or if you thought you could solo it, finish the damn thing. Instead, two brats wipe the floor with you, and you wheeze for months?"
"Shut it."
"Who the hell are you telling to shut it?"
Nobak's face twisted. He bit his lip hard, blood trickling as he rose and loomed before Kaka, glaring with bloodshot eyes. His pointed nose kept their faces from touching.
"You know who you're talking to like that?"
"Course I do. You got cocky and—"
BOOM! CRASH!
Sudden explosions. Both heads snapped around. Tempers flared, but they knew priorities when shit hit the fan.
Kaka peered out the office window. Red glow outside—fire, from experience.
"What the hell?"
"Checking now."
Then, a massive spider dropped onto the head of the grunt answering Kaka. Its legs wrapped his face as its body glowed red-hot.
BOOM!
Only his shoes remained, marking where he'd stood. The guy next to him had his head caved in against machinery.
"Which bastard...? They using us in a gang war?"
Plausible. Gangs had no loyalty. Had to assume that for now.
Masked Kaka bolted from the office, blue-glowing-eyed Nobak following.
"Didn't know who, wiped 'em out."
"Just got the report. Not a gang."
"Then?"
"The ones we're after."
"That shrimp raiding here?"
Kaka had seen Allen: scrawny scholar build, world-weary eyes.
"A skinny runt like that? How green were you to let him strike first?"
"Shut your trap."
Outside the warehouse, the scene unfolded. Flames roared from the attached building; machine-gun turrets drooped barrels-down.
And the "rookie" Kaka mocked—Allen—unleashed mana shells, no, shells the size of artillery rounds from his thick gauntlets.
"That's the same guy?"
"It's him. He's blasting like that—mana'll run dry soon. Tell everyone to take cover!"
The order spread to all grunts. They ducked behind concrete, trucks, scrap machines, then fired back.
But the barrage didn't stop. After losing a third of his men, Kaka eyed Nobak.
"How long we holding? Quit clamming up!"
"Ha... mana excess syndrome..."
Great in tests, repulsive in a firefight.
End
The goblin Kaka, orc-sized at 2 meters, unlike his men, stood firm. When a mana shell flew his way, he swatted it aside with an outward arm swing.
"Mana excess makes him a cripple. And he pulls this off?"
"He's always had top-tier mana control. Sure, generates a ton, gets violent too. But something's off. He's been modded here for sure."
"Same engineer bullshit—analyzing mid-fight. Less talk, more action."
Nobak slunk up and headed for the factory.
Kaka watched his back, then his eyes flashed blue, entering multi-call mode.
"Damage report?"
Kaka recalled the spider from the window: legs around a head, exploding. Dead men likely same.
"One at a time... Nah, forget it. We'll take the losses—overwhelm him at once."
His eyes flashed again, issuing orders. He wasn't one for plans; he trusted his body and charged.
Behold this 2m goblin frame: the result of growth hormones, bone density boosters, steroids from youth.
"Rush on my signal."
Some grunts lost? Big deal. Young blood clamored to join Corona Cartel. Replacements aplenty.
That mindset—ruling Aroma, surviving by crushing others—meshed perfectly. They knew: get crushed or do the crushing.
Quick chatter among cartel members, then smoke grenades burst across the factory. Outgunned at range? Block it outright.
Thick smoke blanketed like ground clouds, swallowing scenery. EBI users conjured winds, spreading it fast.
Simultaneously, harsh engine roars echoed from behind the factory.