Although he knew it was impossible, Ignis still couldn't help but pull out his phone.
There were no new messages from Kruger. That was to be expected—only one night had passed. It was impossible for any information on the Mountain Lion Gang's whereabouts to appear so soon.
Turning off the phone screen, Ignis's vision fell into darkness. He was sitting inside a Three Gates Corp freight truck, surrounded by piles of construction materials.
It wasn't that Belobog Heavy Industries lacked other vehicles. It was simply that Ignis's size exceeded the limits of most cockpits—only the truck's cargo bed could fit him.
Suddenly, the phone vibrated. Ignis detached it from the magnetic lock on his thigh plate.
There was a friend request from an unfamiliar user—an auto-generated string of letters and numbers, with the standard default avatar of a new account.
Somewhat disappointed, Ignis declined it outright. He had already been fooled several times, adding nothing but cursed advertisers and telecom scammers.
But this person seemed persistent. Even after being declined, the requests came again and again. Already irritable, Ignis simply blacklisted the user and ignored them.
Though he didn't know much about the local construction process, from the few unfinished buildings he had seen, safety standards here were… questionable.
Maybe it was because Hollows erupted unpredictably across this world—if you didn't rush to finish a project, you might never get another chance.
Some Hollows eventually faded away, usually when the Ethereal within were exterminated. But New Eridu's developable land was scarce. Ignis still remembered the real estate ad he saw at Lumina Square—the price per square meter was one hundred million. It had left him speechless.
Considering the area was practically immune to Hollow disasters, that price made sense. In contrast, properties near Hollow zones were much cheaper—safety couldn't be guaranteed, after all.
He'd once witnessed residential towers rising at the rate of one floor every three days—but the labor intensity was brutal. One day to erect scaffolding and formwork, a day of rebar binding, a night of concrete pouring, and a day of curing.
During that period, everything was about racing the deadline. Dangerous operations became routine, and no one cared about protocols. Ignis had spent his days rolling his eyes, buried in paperwork, looking half-dead from stress. Because when accidents happened, part of the blame always landed on him.
Fortunately, that project finished safely. There had been several close calls, but they were handled in time, with no casualties.
That same experience gave his superiors false confidence—enough to approve basement excavations with reduced shoring. And then… Ignis died as a civil engineer and woke up as a Salamander, serving the Imperium.
At first, Ignis had thought that since the two drivers sent to pick him up wore standard white uniforms, Belobog Heavy Industries must have strict standards—surely their construction sites would be safe.
That impression shattered the moment he jumped off the truck.
One man had modified his uniform into a cape, strapped a rotary hammer to his left arm, and wore a mop of red-and-black hair like a broom.
A woman had turned her uniform into a sleeveless top and skirt, hung with screwdrivers and wrenches like jewelry.
Most absurd of all was a little red-haired girl who had tied her uniform around her waist, imitating the adults.
Among them, the only one properly dressed was Ben. The ursine man's uniform was perfectly neat and unaltered.
Still, Ignis had to resist the urge to shout, 'Put your damn helmets on.'
"Hello, hello, Mr. Ignis of the Cunning Hares, Hollow Affairs Specialist."
Ben approached and offered a handshake—the only one who had met Ignis before. "I'm sorry we couldn't provide a more comfortable ride. Please forgive the inconvenience."
"So, you're the Ignis!" The woman in the sleeveless top rushed forward, her eyes shining. She ran her hands along his Mark X Gravis Power Armor. "Oh, this material—I've never seen anything like it! The mechanical structure is fascinating!"
Her excitement only grew as she reached for her tools, clearly intent on dismantling something.
Ignis swiftly blocked her, preventing her from taking apart his leg plating. The woman's energy was overwhelming; she was already examining his Flamestorm Gauntlet next.
"Grace Howard, our chief of mechanical engineering," Ben said awkwardly, pulling her back.
"Ben, don't stop me! I need to see how the armor responds to his movement! It'll help my babies so much!" Grace protested, wriggling in his grip.
"Grace! Calm down. Don't you still have that machine to test?" Ben half-dragged her away.
"Anton Ivanov, construction site supervisor."
The young man with a rockstar haircut shook Ignis's hand, then proudly raised his left arm, where a drill whirred faintly. "This is my brother."
"And this little one?" Ignis crouched, reaching out to pat the head of the small girl with an eyepatch over her right eye.
"Hah?" The girl slapped his hand away without hesitation. Despite her size, her strength was surprising.
"Who are you calling little?" Her glare was sharp. "I'll tell Ben to dock your pay."
"This is our president—Koleda Belobog," Anton quickly explained.
Great. I just pissed off the boss. Ignis felt himself starting to sweat and quickly turned the would-be pat into a handshake.
"Uh… President Koleda, pleased to meet you," he said seriously, removing his helmet as a sign of respect. "No offense intended. My apologies."
Seeing his change in demeanor, Koleda's irritation faded. She extended her tiny hand and gripped one of his fingers.
"Relax, it's just a joke. The payment's already cleared," the petite president said cheerfully. "You'll be stationed here for a few days. Cooperate with our people and take some photos. That way we can file the expenses under 'safety measures.'"
"No problem," Ignis replied flatly. As a former civil engineer, he understood how that worked—photos, paperwork, and budget justification.
"And me too—the video store manager from Sixth Street, Belle," came a familiar voice as a Proxy popped out from behind the others. "We meet again."
"It's only been one night," Ignis said, amused. "I heard from Nekomata that something happened yesterday?"
"Yeah, but it's all handled now. Ollie's arranging people and supplies—it'll take a few days. Meanwhile, this job's paying a huge commission."
Ignis noticed the girl's eyes glimmering suspiciously like Nicole's when money was involved. "So, I came today to check things out first."
A sudden scream cut through the conversation—followed by the roar of heavy machinery.
Ignis turned to see a large, four-legged machine painted bright orange charging wildly across the site, moving with unnerving, erratic energy. Workers scrambled to get out of the way.
"What the hell is going on now?!" Anton slapped his own face in frustration.
"Wasn't Grace supposed to be running diagnostics?" Koleda clicked her tongue.
Ignis reacted immediately, sliding his helmet back on. The small president was right—Grace was indeed riding atop the berserk machine, barely hanging on while frantically working her tablet.
The machine lurched and staggered toward them. Anton started forward to block it, but Ignis was faster.
With a thunderous boom, Ignis's massive Flamestorm Gauntlet clamped around two of the machine's legs. The power pack on his back roared to full output, feeding raw energy into the electro-muscle fibers. The struggling machine went still for a moment.
"Much appreciated, Mr. Ignis!" Grace called, glancing at him before resuming her rapid typing.
"Just one final step in the diagnostics—keep it steady!" she shouted.
Ignis tried, but the machine's strength surpassed his own. His armor's systems blared warnings: continuing strain would damage the electro-muscle arrays.
The four-legged construct bucked wildly, trying to shake free.
"Easy there, sweetheart! It's just a firewall install!" Grace reached toward a red emergency stop button on the opposite side of the platform.
That was when Ignis noticed a screen near his face—its display icon suddenly turned into a question mark. The machine's hind legs kicked hard, launching Grace into the air.
At the same moment, Ignis's grip failed—the construct's power overwhelmed his armor's limits. It stumbled backward, sprinting directly toward a two-story platform.
Worst of all, there were still workers up there who hadn't escaped.
He couldn't let it rampage. He couldn't let it destroy company property either. There was only one thing to do—hit the emergency stop.
Ignis charged after it, his heavy steps shaking the ground. He leapt, landing hard on the machine's back. The impact made it falter just enough.
He scrambled toward the red button as the machine thrashed like a wild stallion. Its violent movements couldn't throw him off—the magnetic boots of his armor held him firm.
With a firm click, he slammed the button.
The machinery's internal whirring ceased instantly. It collapsed onto the ground, motionless.
"Thanks, Mr. Ignis," Ben called, hefting what looked like a compactor over his shoulder. "Guess I was a little slow."