Keran looked away.
His performance should have come off low-key enough to downplay any threat Halden saw in him.
It laid a solid foundation for whatever contact they had next.
He’d picked this repair shop for three specific reasons.
First, Gareth held the complete technical framework for power exoskeletons.
That kind of knowledge could not be pieced together from scattered data sheets.
A lifetime of hands-on work in the field gave a man instincts and know-how no textbook could match.
Working with him would save Keran months of trial and error.
Second, the shop itself was the perfect hideout.
Undercurrent had informants scattered across every major city, but this tiny, unassuming shop tucked at the end of an alley was so far off the radar even they probably did not monitor it.
And even if enemies did track him here?
Gareth was more than enough backup.
For all his drunk, slacker act, both Gareth’s level and combat power showed up as ??? on Keran’s system panel.
That alone told him the old man was far more dangerous than he let on.
Third, and most importantly: a senior armor engineer like Gareth, with decades steeped in the field, almost certainly had a stockpile of valuable technical work stashed away.
Even years after retiring, he probably had not thrown out all the high-end armor schematics he had developed or collected over the years.
Those blueprints would be invaluable for Keran’s growth.
Most people would have to schmooze and trade through a dozen middlemen to get their hands on that kind of material.
Keran had a front-row seat.
If he settled in and proved his worth, he would get access to them sooner or later.
The Federation’s mechanical engineering field had grown far beyond basic repair work.
Top-tier armor engineers could assemble full combat units from modular parts right on the battlefield.
They could collapse entire gear sets into palm-sized storage modules to carry on their person.
With a master’s understanding of power systems, they could even jury-rig custom weapons and tools perfectly suited to any fight.
Assault, defense, breaching, support.
Different design philosophies opened up entirely different tactical paths.
The ceiling was almost limitless.
Keran had a knack for fast learning.
Paired with the Federation’s standard technical framework, even he did not know how far he could take it.
“Keran?”
Lira’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
She stood a few feet away, looking a little awkward, like she had been working up the courage to speak.
“I should go over pay and hours with you. It’s a thousand credits a month. Room and board included. There’s a spare room upstairs. Day-to-day, you’ll handle repair orders, part grinding, equipment calibration, that sort of thing. Does that work for you?”
She did not sound confident at all.
After seeing Keran’s work, she knew full well the pay was way below what he was actually worth.
But the shop had tight margins.
She could not afford to offer more.
She had braced herself for him to say no, already mentally adding a meal stipend to sweeten the deal.
“Works for me,” Keran nodded, plain and simple.
The credits were the last thing he cared about.
Lira’s face lit up instantly.
All her nervousness vanished.
“Great! C’mon, I’ll show you the room!”
The entire second floor was living space.
A common room, kitchen, and bathroom, and several bedrooms lined the hall.
Exposed modified conduit ports jutted from the walls, clearly old projects Gareth had tinkered with himself back in the day.
Lira pushed open the bedroom door at the far end of the hall.
The room was simple: a metal frame bed, a standing locker, a small workbench by the window, and an adjustable engineering lamp in the corner.
Not much, but it was clean.
“This one’s yours. Decent light. You can use the workbench whenever you want.” She handed over a set of metal keys, then rolled up her sleeves.
“I’ll help you tidy it up real quick. Be done in no time.”
A thousand credits barely covered a month of groceries, honestly.
Lira could not be happier with her new hire.
Where else would she find skilled labor this cheap?
The kid must be pretty naive.
She’d better treat him right, make sure he didn’t leave.
Keran watched her bustling around, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.
He was the one applying for the job, but the shop owner was acting like she had hit the jackpot, scared he would change his mind any second.
…
Lira finished cleaning the room and headed back downstairs.
Keran lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, letting his body unwind.
Now it was just a waiting game to see if DSD would reach out.
“I’m still not strong enough.”
He knew better than anyone that leaning on a bigger faction was just a shortcut to fighting Undercurrent.
At the end of the day, real power was the only thing you could count on.
And if he wanted DSD to take him seriously, he would have to prove he was worth the effort.
He did not have spare resources to burn right now.
Building and modifying armor cost real money.
Picking up side work was non-negotiable.
Dawn City had plenty of opportunities, but turning those opportunities into real strength would take time.
His window of safety was narrow.
He had to prepare ahead of time.
Once he was settled in, Keran headed back downstairs.
Lira was at the lathe, fixing some household appliance.
Her work pants showed off the lean, sharp lines of her figure.
Keran glanced for half a second, then looked away.
Lira wiped sweat off her forehead with a towel.
“All the work orders are in the drawer.”
The shop was not exactly swamped with business.
Most of the orders had been sitting around a while.
Keran picked out a simple one and got to work at the lathe.
He worked until seven, when the shop closed for the day.
Lira changed into light loungewear and let down her hair.
Long, dark black hair fell over her shoulders, softening her look into something warmer and gentler.
There were a few mended spots on her dress.
The shop clearly did not bring in much money.
Gareth finally showed up at dinner time.
He had locked himself in his room all day, god knows doing what.
“Food’s ready.”
Gareth, with his wild, messy gray hair, did not look like a man who knew his way around a kitchen.
Lira cooked everything.
Keran took a bite of stewed meat.
It was rich and tender, full of flavor.
His eyes widened.
“Good, right?” Lira smiled brightly.
Keran did not answer.
He was too busy eating.
Now this was real food.
He could not believe the garbage he had been surviving on these past few months.
“There’s plenty more. Take it slow.” Lira was thrilled her cooking was getting praise.
She kept piling more food onto his plate.
Halfway through the meal, Gareth spoke up out of nowhere.
“So where’d you really come from?”
Keran’s chopsticks paused mid-air.
“I’m just a regular guy.”
“Nice try. That lie’s too weak to fool me. Spit it out, kid.” Gareth scoffed, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, lazy and unimpressed.
Keran raised an eyebrow.
“What if I don’t feel like it?”
“Don’t feel like it?”
Gareth’s tone sharpened.
He flicked his head sharply to one side.
His wild mane of gray hair swept across the table, sending a cloud of tiny metal shavings and dust flying straight at Keran.
All the crud he had picked up while puttering around his workshop all day.
Keran’s eyes narrowed.
He flipped his plate up in one smooth motion, blocking almost all the shavings with the edge.
Not a single speck landed on him.
“Quick reflexes. You’ve got some fight in you.” Gareth squinted and nodded.
“Figured as much. You wouldn’t last five minutes wandering the West District alone otherwise.”
“Hmph. You haven’t seen the half of it.” Gareth puffed himself up, ready to keep posturing, when Lira tapped the edge of her soup bowl with her spoon.
Her voice was calm, but it carried absolute authority.
“Eat your food. Don’t make a mess.”
Both of them backed down instantly.
One stared down at his bowl and ate quietly.
The other picked up his drink and sipped it slowly.
You would never guess they had been seconds away from a standoff just a moment before.
…
Dawn City was massive.
It was split into eight districts plus three satellite towns, all connected by maglev lines.
The Central District was the city’s core.
All the major government offices were there.
No regular citizen was allowed inside.
Tensions ran high between the hundred city-states.
Undercurrent might have been their shared enemy, but the cities competed with each other too.
No one was a true ally.
Assassination attempts on city leaders were a constant.
Officially, most were blamed on Undercurrent or high-profile criminals.
But every city’s intelligence agency knew the truth.
At least seventy percent of the hits had another city-state pulling the strings behind the scenes.
City intelligence agencies, Undercurrent, wanderer warlords, arms dealers, information brokers, wanted criminals, assassin guilds, bounty hunters.
All of them and more made up the planet’s vast, tangled underworld.
Dawn Spire was Dawn City’s central administrative building.
The highest-ranking officials worked there.
In theory, its outer walls could withstand a direct hit from a tactical missile.
The city’s leaders did not have to worry about something dropping on their heads mid-meeting.
Beneath Dawn Spire, deep underground, was the real home of the city’s most classified departments.
…
Deep beneath Dawn Spire, on an unlisted floor.
Dozens of huge black screens lined the walls, flooded with endless streams of data.
The clack of keyboards blended into a steady hum.
Hundreds of analysts moved back and forth, like interlocking gears in a precision machine, keeping the entire intelligence apparatus running.
Information poured in from every direction, was processed, then sent out to wherever it needed to go.
The DSD was Dawn City’s hidden eyes beneath the ground, and its blade lurking in the shadows.
“Director. We’ve located the target.”
A quiet, glasses-wearing secretary knocked on the Intelligence Director’s office door.
The director sat behind his desk with a stern look on his face, a faint damp spot at the corner of his mouth.
“Report.”
“Director, were you napping at your desk again?” The secretary gave him a deadpan look.
“Quit nagging!” The director glared.
“Stick to the matter at hand.”
“Target is currently lying low at a mechanical repair shop in the West District.”
The director swiveled his chair away, thought for a moment, then swiveled back.
His face was all business.
“Orders from above are clear. Low-key, non-confrontational approach.”
“You swiveled around just to wipe the drool off your face, didn’t you?”
“I regret promoting you every single day.”
The secretary adjusted her glasses.
A glint flashed off the lenses.
“How do you want to proceed?”
“If he came to Dawn City alone, he’s looking for protection.
He’s already signaled he’s open to working with us.
We cover both angles.
Activate asset protection protocols.
Make sure none of Undercurrent’s spies in the city catch wind of him.
Intercept all communications mentioning his location.
Nothing gets out over the net.
At the same time, put people on him to feel him out.
Confirm he’s not some plant Undercurrent sent to infiltrate us.
No direct contact until we’re sure.”
“A million credit bounty means one of two things. Either he’s got critical intel, or he’s dangerous enough to earn it. We can’t gauge the threat level for sure, so we don’t spook him. And for god’s sake, no repeats of the White Leviathan raid. We blew up two whole blocks and still let the target get away. The chief chewed me out for an entire afternoon over that.”