Chapter : 1653

  He tapped his temple. "We need to change the game. The Aegis suit is the equalizer. It gives a peasant the punching power of a Sovereign. But a Sovereign moves with the weight of the world. I want the Aegis to move like a mosquito. Annoying. Impossible to hit. Deadly."

  Lloyd looked at Ken. "You will go alone. No uniforms. No Ferrum crests until you make the offer. Watch them. Test them without them knowing. If a card cheat can count a six-deck shoe in a noisy tavern while dodging a bouncer, he has better situational awareness than half my captains. If a pickpocket can lift a purse from a Royal Guard without being felt, she has better hands than my best surgeon."

  "How many?" Ken asked. His voice was deep, a rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floor.

  "Bring me fifty," Lloyd said. "We will wash them out. The training will be... rigorous. I expect half to quit in the first hour. I expect another half to break in the simulator. If we end up with five good pilots, I will be happy."

  Rolf looked pale. "You are going to put street rats in the most expensive, dangerous machines ever built?"

  "I am going to give the people the world threw away the power of a Sovereign," Lloyd corrected. "Think about it, Rolf. What is more dangerous? A man who was born with power and takes it for granted? Or a man who has been kicked in the dirt his whole life, and you suddenly hand him the power to kick back?"

  Lloyd’s eyes gleamed with a dark, cynical amusement. "They will be loyal, Rolf. Not because of honor. But because I am the only one who ever gave them a chance to be giants. They will guard those suits with their lives because without the suit, they go back to being nothing. That is a loyalty stronger than any oath."

  He stood up, signaling the meeting was over. "Go. Find me my failures. Find me the rejects. The invisible people. I want them here in three days."

  Ken stood up and bowed. "It will be done."

  Rolf stood up slowly, shaking his head. "This is madness, My Lord. Absolute madness."

  "Welcome to House Ferrum," Lloyd said, picking up his coffee cup. "Madness is our main export now. Now get out. I have a robot to calibrate."

  As Ken and Rolf left the bunker, the heavy metal door hissed shut behind them. Lloyd sat alone in the silence. He looked at the blueprints of the Aegis Mark II spread out on the table. He traced the lines of the cockpit.

  "Heroes are expensive," Lloyd muttered to the empty room. "And they break too easily when their friends die. Give me a rat any day. Rats survive the apocalypse."

  He took a sip of his cold coffee and grimaced. It tasted like battery acid. Perfect. He had work to do.

  ________________________________________

  The "Golden Goblet" was not golden, and it certainly wasn't a goblet. It was a hole in the wall in the lower district of the capital, a place where the ale was watered down and the air was thick with the smoke of cheap tobacco and desperation. It was a gambling den for people who couldn't afford to lose but did anyway.

  Ken Park sat in the corner. He was wearing a hooded cloak that was stained and patched, blending perfectly into the shadows. He didn't look like a King-Level Transcendent warrior capable of crushing a tank. He looked like a large, silent piece of furniture. He was watching table four.

  At table four, a young man named Kaito was playing cards. Kaito was thin, with messy hair and eyes that darted around like a nervous bird. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over. He had no spirit power. His mana signature was so faint it was basically nonexistent. In the hierarchy of this world, he was moss.

  But Ken watched his hands.

  The game was "High Stakes," a fast-paced card game involving probability and bluffing. The dealer was a massive man with scars on his knuckles, cheating clumsily by dealing from the bottom of the deck. Kaito knew it. Ken could see it in the way Kaito’s eyes flickered to the dealer's wrist.

  Chapter : 1654

  But Kaito didn't complain. Instead, he adjusted. He was counting cards. Not just his own, but every card on the table. He was calculating the probability of the next draw based on the dealer's cheat pattern. He folded when he had a good hand because he knew the dealer had rigged a better one for the house player. He bet small when he had a bad hand to bait the pot.

  Then, the moment came. The dealer got distracted by a waitress dropping a tray. In that split second—less than a heartbeat—Kaito swapped two cards from his sleeve with the cards in his hand. The movement was so fast, so fluid, that even Ken, with his superhuman vision, almost missed it. It was a blur of motion that defied the boy's sluggish appearance.

  Kaito laid down a Royal Flush. He swept the pot of copper and silver coins into his bag and stood up, looking terrified, muttering about needing to go home to his sick mother. It was a lie, of course. He was just cashing out before they realized he had cheated the cheater.

  As Kaito rushed for the back exit, Ken moved. He didn't run; he just existed in front of the door before Kaito could open it.

  Kaito skidded to a halt, his face going pale. "I... I don't want trouble! You can have the money!" He held out the bag, shaking.

  Ken looked down at him. "You swapped the Jack of Diamonds and the King of Spades in 0.4 seconds."

  Kaito froze. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You also calculated that the dealer was rigging the deck for the man in the red vest," Ken continued, his voice a low rumble. "Your math was perfect."

  Kaito dropped the bag. He looked ready to faint. "Please don't break my fingers. I need them."

  Ken reached into his cloak. Kaito flinched, expecting a knife. Instead, Ken pulled out a simple, matte-black card with the silver crest of a lion's head—the Ferrum seal.

  "Ferrum Manufactory. North Gate. Midnight. Three days from now," Ken said.

  Kaito stared at the card. "What? Is this... am I being arrested?"

  "Job offer," Ken said. Then he stepped aside and vanished into the crowd, leaving a bewildered gambler holding a card that felt heavier than gold.

  ________________________________________

  Next, Ken traveled north to the Regional Knight’s Academy. It was raining. It always seemed to be raining when dreams were being crushed.

  In the mud of the training yard, a young girl named Vala was being yelled at. She was small, perhaps sixteen, with oversized armor that rattled when she moved. The instructor, a burly man with a mustache that looked like a broom, was screaming.

  "You are useless! You have no strength! You can't even lift the training shield! Go home, girl! Go marry a baker! You will never be a knight!"

  Vala was crying, but she was also dodging. The instructor, in his anger, threw a wooden training sword at her. It was a fast, cruel throw. Vala didn't block it. She couldn't; her arms were too weak. Instead, she twisted.

  It was an unnatural movement. Her spine seemed to bend at an impossible angle. The sword missed her nose by a millimeter. She didn't think about it; her body just did it. She stumbled, fell into the mud, and scrambled away.

  As she ran toward the gate, sobbing, she slipped on a patch of wet grass. A horse and carriage were thundering down the path, the driver unable to stop in time. The horse's hooves were inches from her head.

  In that fraction of a second, Vala didn't scream. She rolled. She rolled under the carriage, between the moving wheels, timing her movement with the rotation of the spokes, and rolled out the other side, covered in mud but unharmed.

  The carriage driver yelled at her. The instructor laughed at her.

  Ken Park, watching from the shadow of a tree, nodded. She had zero offensive power. A goblin could probably beat her in an arm-wrestling match. But her spatial awareness was absolute. She knew exactly where her body was in relation to death at all times.

  He stepped out as she sat shivering on a rock outside the academy gates, holding her expulsion papers.

  Vala looked up, eyes red. She saw the giant man and shrank back.

  Ken held out the black card.

  "I... I don't have any money," she whispered.

  "You didn't die under the carriage," Ken stated.

  "I got lucky," she sniffled.

  "Luck is a skill," Ken said. "Ferrum Manufactory. Midnight. Three days."

  "But... I failed. I'm weak."

  Chapter : 1655

  "We aren't looking for strong," Ken said. He placed the card in her muddy hand. "We are looking for people who are hard to kill."

  The clockmaker’s shop was in the artisan district, a place of ticking silence and dust motes dancing in shafts of light. It smelled of oil and old wood.

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  Ren sat in a wheelchair behind the counter. His legs were withered, useless since birth. He was twenty years old, with pale skin from never seeing the sun and thick glasses that magnified his eyes.

  He was working on a pocket watch. Not a normal watch, but a masterwork piece with gears the size of sand grains. He wasn't using tools. He was using his fingers.

  Ken watched through the window. Ren’s fingers were a blur. They moved with a dexterity that was unsettling. He picked up a microscopic screw, placed it into a hole invisible to the naked eye, and tightened it, all in one fluid motion. He manipulated five different tools with one hand, flipping them between his fingers like a magician.

  Ren sneezed. The sudden movement caused a tray of tiny springs to tip over.

  Before the springs could hit the table and scatter, Ren’s hand moved. It was a phantom blur. Snatch-snatch-snatch-snatch.

  In less than a second, he had caught four falling springs in mid-air, between his fingers, without looking. He placed them back in the tray and sighed, adjusting his glasses.

  "Impressive," Ken said, opening the door. The bell chimed.

  Ren jumped, nearly dropping his screwdriver. He spun his wheelchair around. "I'm closed! The sign says closed!"

  Ken walked to the counter. He loomed over the desk. Ren looked at the giant man, then at his own useless legs. He couldn't run. He reached for a small knife he used for cutting leather straps.

  "Don't," Ken said gently. "I'm not here to rob you."

  "Then what do you want? My watches are expensive. You don't look like you care about time."

  "I care about hands," Ken said. "You have fast hands."

  Ren scoffed. "Great. Fast hands and dead legs. I'm a circus act. What do you want, giant?"

  Ken placed the black card on the counter, right next to the disassembled watch.

  "Ferrum Manufactory. Midnight. Three days."

  Ren picked up the card. He ran his thumb over the embossed lion. "Ferrum? The Arch Duke? What does a Duke want with a cripple?"

  "He wants your fingers," Ken said.

  Ren went pale. "He wants to... cut them off?"

  Ken paused. He realized his phrasing was poor. Lloyd often told him he needed to work on his communication skills. "No. He wants to hire them. For a machine."

  "A machine?" Ren’s fear was replaced by a flicker of curiosity. "What kind of machine?"

  "A fast one," Ken said. "Be there."

  Ken turned and left the shop, the bell chiming behind him.

  ________________________________________

  The recruitment continued for three days. Ken moved through the city like a shadow. He found a thief who could pick a lock in the dark while holding his breath for four minutes. He found a failed alchemist who had blown up his lab five times but had the reflexes to duck the explosion every single time. He found a juggler who could track twelve balls in the air simultaneously.

  He didn't explain. He didn't persuade. He just delivered the black card and the time.

  Most of the recipients were terrified. The Ferrum name was legendary, especially now with the rumors of the "Silent Lion" and the war against the Devils. For the dregs of society—the gamblers, the failures, the cripples—receiving a summons from the High Lord felt like a death sentence.

  They gathered in taverns and alleyways, whispering to each other.

  "Did you get a card?"

  "Yeah. Black. Lion crest."

  "What does it mean?"

  "Maybe they need test subjects for potions."

  "Maybe they need bait for the monsters."

  "Maybe it's a trap to clean up the streets."

  "Are you going?"

  "Do I have a choice? It's the Ferrums. If I don't go, they'll probably hunt me down."

  "Besides... what do I have to lose? I have three copper coins and a half-eaten rat for dinner."

  Fear mixed with a strange, desperate curiosity. They were the unwanted. The invisible. And suddenly, the most powerful House in the North was looking at them.

  By the third night, fifty people stood outside the North Gate of the manufactory. They shivered in the cold wind. Kaito clutched his deck of cards. Vala tried to stop her armor from rattling. Ren sat in his wheelchair, oiling his knuckles.

  Chapter : 1656

  The massive iron gates creaked open. There were no guards. Just a dark tunnel leading down into the earth.

  "Well," Kaito whispered, his voice trembling. "I calculate our odds of survival at about... twelve percent."

  "Better than zero," Ren muttered, and rolled his wheelchair forward into the dark.

  One by one, the misfits followed. They walked into the belly of the beast, not as heroes, but as people who had simply run out of other places to go.

  ________________________________________

  The holding bay was deep underground. It was a large, rectangular room with walls made of smooth, gray concrete. There were no windows. The only light came from glow-stones embedded in the ceiling, casting a harsh, white light that made everyone look pale and sick. The air was scrubbed clean, smelling of nothing—no dust, no rot, no life.

  Fifty people stood or sat in the room. It looked like a waiting room for the afterlife, specifically the one reserved for people who had messed up.

  Kaito leaned against the wall, shuffling his cards nervously. Shuffle, bridge, cut. Shuffle, bridge, cut. The sound was a frantic rhythm in the silence. He looked around.

  "This is it," he whispered to no one. "This is where they grind us into meat for the dogs."

  Vala sat on the floor, hugging her knees. She had taken off her oversized helmet, revealing messy brown hair and eyes wide with terror. She watched a large man in the corner—a former dockworker who had been fired for dropping crates—pace back and forth.

  Ren was inspecting the floor. "Seamless," he muttered, tapping the concrete. "Poured in one piece. High-quality construction. This isn't a dungeon. It's a lab."

  "That's worse!" Kaito hissed. "Dungeons you can escape. Labs mean experiments."

  The door at the far end of the room hissed open. It didn't creak; it slid sideways with a pneumatic sigh.

  The room went dead silent.

  Two figures walked in.

  The first was a young man. He was handsome, but in a cold, sharp way. He wore a simple black suit, not armor, but he carried himself like he owned the air in the room. His eyes were dark and bored. This was Lloyd Ferrum.

  Behind him walked a woman. Or at least, she looked like a woman. She was beautiful, with skin that seemed to catch the light like a diamond. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, her expression utterly blank. She wore a combat uniform that looked like it was woven from steel thread. This was Spirit Jasmin. She didn't walk; she glided, her movements too smooth to be human.

  Lloyd stopped in the center of the room. Spirit Jasmin stood one step behind him, her empty eyes scanning the crowd like a turret.

  The fifty recruits pressed themselves against the walls, trying to be as small as possible. The pressure in the room didn't come from magic. It came from the sheer presence of the man in the suit. He looked at them like a biologist looking at a petri dish of bacteria.

  Lloyd didn't say hello. He didn't introduce himself. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, looking at them.

  He looked at the dockworker. He looked at the thief. He looked at the failed squire.

  "You smell," Lloyd said finally. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the room. "You smell like fear. And cheap ale. And failure."

  A few people flinched. The dockworker clenched his fists but didn't dare speak.

  Lloyd started to walk through the crowd. He didn't look at their faces. He looked at their hands, their feet, their posture.

  He stopped in front of Kaito. Kaito froze, the cards in his hand trembling.

  "Stop shuffling," Lloyd said.

  Kaito stopped instantly.

  "You're counting the heartbeats of the man next to you," Lloyd observed.

  Kaito blinked. "I... I..."

  "Don't apologize. It's a good habit." Lloyd moved on.

  He stopped in front of Vala. She looked up, terrified.

  "You're sitting on your heels," Lloyd noted. "Ready to spring up and run in any direction. Good."

  He walked past Ren. "Wheelchair needs oil on the left axle. It's pulling you slightly off course."

  Ren stared at him. "How did you..."

  Lloyd ignored him and walked back to the center of the room. He turned to face them.

  "I am Lloyd Ferrum. You know who I am. You know my family runs the North. You are wondering why the Arch Duke's son has gathered a room full of garbage."

  The word hung in the air. Garbage.