Galan Hall, Disassembly Bay.
Ryuu-9 leapt from his chair, body pitching forward, eyes sharp as knives. Vyre waved him off for the third time. "No—can't open it. The hatch's locked."
"Impossible," Ryuu-9 muttered, rolling up his sleeves, narrowing his eyes. "I've never seen an Operator hatch that wouldn't open."
They were trying to unlock the Chassis' cabin, to read the Operator's DNA from the connector and match it to the pilot who'd "vanished" last night.
Vyre leaned close, voice low. "Is it possible… the Operator already got inside, and we just didn't notice?"
The hatch won't open? Ryuu-9 cursed under his breath. "Get the circular saw. If it won't open, we'll cut it."
Vyre nodded, quickly positioning six gunners around the bay and one heavy artillery operator. He slipped on white gloves, a sharp snap, and started the saw.
The Chassis remained utterly still. No response. Normally, if the Operator was inside, the Exosuit would activate automatically—visor, gun lights, all illumination lines flickering to life. But this one… dead. Not a trace of "awareness."
To the Operator, Exosuits were flesh and blood.
To the Exosuit, the Operator was its soul.
The saw buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. Vyre pressed it against the hatch seam, targeting the thinnest edge, and just as he was about to cut, a mechanical hand clamped around his wrist—steady, precise, unstoppable.
He jerked his head up. The Chassis' head slowly turned toward him; its hollow sockets glowed silver-white. Vyre instinctively shielded his eyes. In the next heartbeat, the Chassis threw him off, moving with a speed and grace beyond comprehension. Like a ghost, it tore through the gunline, smashed the bay doors, and vanished into the night.
"Get him! Shoot if you have to!" Ryuu-9 roared.
Vyre froze, speechless. The Chassis… could manipulate light itself. Alive, almost.
It barreled through Galan Hall as bullets seemed to lag behind in slow motion. Breaking past the doors, it caught a black sedan turning into the lot. In a flash, across the spotless windshield, it locked eyes with two blood-red orbs in the backseat.
Collision course. No escape.
Kael blinked, cold sweat tracing his temple. He tilted his head back at the Chassis—clearly an Exosuit, yet every motion, every glance, eerily human. That gaze… he almost laughed. Hollow black sockets, yet alive. Terrifyingly alive.
He rolled down the window. A bloodied mechanical hand pressed against the glass, probing. The Chassis' "eyes" fixed on it, inspecting, almost mocking.
Arq kicked open the door, sprinted over, and scooped Kael into his arms, careful as he carried him out. Blood soaked the left side of his suit pants.
The Chassis paused, raising its hand. At the same instant, a specialized round cut through the air, striking Kael's left upper arm. Metal didn't pierce, but the impact rocked him.
"Hands off him—!" Ryuu-9 shouted, rushing in with Hexcrusher. The rifle, made for sniping Exosuits, gleamed like a blade in the neon-dark.
Kael's pale, bloodied form made Ryuu-9's chest tighten, heart nearly stopping. That expression—he'd seen it once before. Back then, Kael had clung to his neck, weeping like a child. Now… silence.
Outside the main doors, two neutron cannons detonated with deafening force, fire and smoke instantly swallowing the view.
Through the choking haze, an Exosuit shot out—a slender, indigo frame, topped with a crown-like hollowed ornament that, from a distance, looked like a floating skeletal face.
"Bonehelm…" Ryuu-9 narrowed his eyes, recognizing it. The Exosuit of Varek, chairman of Etsu's Eastbridge District, Unit 88.
"88's here! DEFENSE MODE! Operators—gear up!" alarms blared from the tower in overlapping layers. Ryuu-9 raised his custom sniper rifle and emptied rounds while keeping his gaze fixed on the sedan.
As the smoke thinned, Chassis knelt on one knee. Beneath its rigid steel arms, Arq and Kael were unharmed.
Bonehelm unleashed dozens of razor-sharp needles, each infused with corrosive acid. A single hit could slowly dissolve the internal circuitry of any Exosuit.
Ryuu-9 lunged forward—only to see seventeen or eighteen identical Exosuits materialize behind Bonehelm. No paint, just serial numbers on the shoulders, and ten-petaled ChromeHaze cores embedded in their chests. Standard cannons hummed, orange status lights blinking.
Ryuu-9 had never seen anything like them. Mass-produced on an assembly line, soulless, featureless… yet lethal.
The acid needles hovered around Chassis, suspended by some unseen will. Chassis released Kael and slowly rose. The needles converged, drawn as if by invisible gravity, firing toward the Dyne Syndicate Exosuits' chest-mounted heat cannons—detonating one after another in rapid succession.
Everyone froze—Arq, Ryuu-9, Varek, even Vyre, who'd arrived in a Pyroline suit. A Chassis without external armor, single-handedly taking down nearly twenty Exosuits in the blink of an eye.
Ryuu-9 snapped back to reality. His custom sniper rifle, capable of piercing any armor short of ultra-titanium, had barely fazed it. What the hell was this thing?
Chassis fixed its gaze on Bonehelm, tilting its head with curiosity. Bonehelm instinctively retreated, abandoning pursuit, leaping from Galan Hall into a nearby alley and vanishing.
Arq cradled Kael, moving toward the chairman's tower. Hexcrusher turned, glaring at Chassis, abandoning his sniper rifle, and sprinted after it.
Kael's organs were unharmed, but blood loss had left him unconscious for nearly two days. Once on solid ground, he immediately instructed Ryuu-9 to bring Chassis to meet him in the grand living room of the tower's first floor.
Chassis had spent the past days in the disassembly bay, Operator unseen for 24 hours—a living mystery, feared by all.
The chairman's tower was lined with fine wool carpets and adorned with art. Ryuu-9 pushed the door open. Chassis stepped onto the rug—tons of weight, yet not a single crease formed, its feet seemingly equipped with anti-gravity stabilizers, light as a dragonfly's landing.
This was an Exosuit designed for indoor finesse. Ryuu-9 was stunned. Combat Exosuits were, by design, weapons. They weren't meant to be delicate, refined, or luxurious. If it had external plating, it would be a work of art.
Kael sat in the center of a crimson velvet sofa, shirtless, displaying a dazzling Mecha Dragon tattoo across chest and abdomen. Skin was tanned but smooth, almost silky.
"Gamma, Eastbridge District," he said, tilting his head slightly, fluttering his lashes. "Galan Hall Chairman—Kael."
Chassis stood motionless for a moment, then spoke: "Nocturne."
Impossibly commanding.
"Your real name?" Ryuu-9 asked. "And the Exosuit—what's it called?"
Chassis slowly turned. Movements fluid, precise, almost human. Ryuu-9 flinched—anyone seeing an Exosuit mimic lifelike motion like this would be shaken.
"Get out of that Exosuit!" he shouted.
Nocturne stepped forward. Every mechanical motion exact as if alive. That metallic face even carried a hint of a smirk—a playful mockery.
At that instant, the Operator hatch banged open. Empty. Nothing inside.
Ryuu-9 braced himself against a pillar; his legs were trembling.
"You're not the Exosuit—you're an AI?" Kael pressed a hand to his wound, body leaning forward.
"No," Nocturne said coolly, shaking its head, and pointed at two chips inside the hatch—one on the right, one on the left. "Right side: Exosuit. Left side: Operator."
Ryuu-9 went numb. An Exosuit with awareness? An Operator that was just a circuit board?
Kael snorted softly and rose, slow and deliberate. "Where did your consciousness come from?"
Nocturne indicated the left chip. "Everything's in this little box. All memories, feelings, thoughts… digitized."
The implication hit them: mind transfer. Thought capture, brainwave digitization, then upload into a mechanical shell. Rumors said the government had been testing for decades—almost no one ever succeeded.
"You used to be human?" Kael asked, voice low.
Nocturne was silent. No answer.
"Why come to Eastbridge?" Kael pushed.
"The human 'me' is dead," Nocturne countered. "I was installed into this Exosuit. As for why I'm in Eastbridge—didn't you bring me here?"
Kael's laugh was a dry thing, barely masking something darker. "You're here, you're powerful—ever thought about joining us?"
Ryuu-9 felt a chill—talking to something that was, in a way, dead. Even after years of war, of operators slaughtering one another in hulking frames, the idea of a resurrected consciousness still crawled under the skin.
"Join?" Nocturne's tone was flippant. It scanned the room like an amused guest. "I'd ally, at best, not join your little ragtag crew."
Kael raised an eyebrow—this crew kept delivering surprises. First the Soulrender, now this shameless prize.
"You know who I am?" Kael asked, voice low, tapping the Mecha Dragon tattoo sprawled across his back.
Nocturne folded its mechanical arms. "I'm not interested in effeminate men," it said.
Kael flushed, jaw clenching. "I'm Razorfang—Griffin Hall, Zythera. You heard of us?"
Nocturne's optics narrowed. "Razorfang? Wasn't it scrapped to pieces by The Dyne Syndicate ages ago?"
Kael didn't blink; he lied smoothly. "I'm the Operator."
Ryuu-9 held his breath. No one spoke—today, with The Dyne Syndicate seeping into Eastbridge, that lie could be deadly.
Nocturne fixed Kael with a long look. "Razorfang is Griffin Hall's lieutenant—always shrouded in mystery. They say, outside Zythera, no one's ever seen its Operator, not even the name."
Kael turned, revealed the Mecha Dragon on his back. "Now you know—Razorfang·Kael."
Nocturne stared at the tattoo until time seemed to stretch. A flash of anger rose in Ryuu-9.
Finally, Nocturne spoke. "Fine—Razorfang·Kael. What do you want me to do?"
Kael's face was calm as stone. He said four words: "Unify Eastbridge."
Ryuu-9's muscles tightened; his heart felt like it would explode.
"Okay," Nocturne considered, then added, "In return, I want something."
Kael nodded. "Name it."
"That indigo Exosuit that attacked the other day—I want its 'eye.'"
Ryuu-9 froze for a beat. "You don't even have optical lenses. How have you been killing targets without eyes?"
"I've got infrared thermal and ultrasonic imaging," Nocturne replied, as if bored. "Functional but crude. His 'eye' is superior. I want it."
Kael thought back to Bonehelm's visual module—nothing special except that it was oversized for that narrow skull, almost grotesquely out of place.
"No problem," Kael said immediately. It wasn't even a condition worth negotiating. "Once we take down Varek, Bonehelm is yours to dismantle. Take whatever you want."
Nocturne turned its head slightly, voice flat. "I don't have that kind of fetish."
Kael and Ryuu-9 both choked, expressions stiffening.
"Brother," Kael struggled to keep his voice even, "when we say 'take it,' we don't mean what you're thinking—"
But Nocturne had already discarded the topic. "Have you heard of an organization called Ouroboros?"
Kael and Ryuu-9 exchanged a glance and shook their heads.
When Nocturne left, the grand hall fell into an oppressive silence. Ryuu-9 stood rigid, brows furrowed in agitation. Kael gave him a sidelong look and nudged his arm, motioning for support. Ryuu stepped closer instinctively, letting Kael lean onto his shoulder—but he turned his face sharply away.
"What?" Kael hooked an arm around him. "Why are you sulking now?"
"I don't trust him," Ryuu muttered.
Kael laughed softly. "Neither do I."
"You shouldn't have lied about Razorfang."
"Relax," Kael said with that reckless confidence that terrified everyone who knew him. "From the moment we hijacked that Freedom Corps shipment, we were already enemies of The Dyne Syndicate."
Ryuu-9 exhaled slowly. "The Dyne Syndicate is not just another street syndicate…"
"They were originally a fourth-tier crew under Griffin Hall," Kael snapped. "They betrayed their own master and carved up the territory. Nothing about their empire is clean."
"Kael… I just want you to make it out alive."
Kael fell silent. The two of them stood on the red-carpeted spiral staircase, the chandelier's glow reflecting off Ryuu-9's eyes, making them look almost wet.
"Kael… once you pass the age of twenty-five—"
"Ryuu." Kael cut him off, voice unexpectedly soft. "Once you pass twenty-five, you're still my Lieutenant. For life."
"Nocturne doesn't have a 'twenty-five,'" Ryuu said quietly.
The words sounded cryptic, but Kael understood instantly. Nocturne had no biological age. No lifespan. A consciousness that would never wither, a mech-body that would never decay.
"Someday," Ryuu whispered, voice raw, "the one standing here, holding you, won't be me anymore."
The pain hit Kael like a blade to the chest. He wanted to lash out, to deny it, but all that came out was a messy, frustrated retort: "Ryuu—you're jealous of a machine that doesn't even have a heart?"
Yes. He was.
Ryuu stared at Kael's lips, every word tangled in his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice came out steady—too steady.
"I'll make sure he stays by your side."