After the riot had been subdued, Ignis was taken by Ben to a makeshift office built out of a shipping container to rest.
The Bear Thiren thanked him and apologized. "Thank you for stepping in so quickly and helping me get that machine under control. We have... some matters of our own to discuss with the Proxies. It's inconvenient for you to know the details."
Ignis, being reasonable, didn't press further. Since the employer didn't want him involved, he was more than happy to stay out of it.
He spent half an hour scrolling through the Inter-Knot on his phone, gathering scattered bits of information about the Mountain Lion Gang, before several senior staff members from Belobog Heavy Industries entered the container.
Grace was still visibly thrilled to see Ignis, her eyes gleaming with excitement—so much that even Ignis felt a little uneasy. Beside her, Koleda shook her head, hand to her forehead, sighing in a motion that was clearly practiced—she'd cleaned up Grace's messes before. With a wave of her hand, the small boss signaled Anton, who promptly dragged Grace away.
"Grace, come on. That machine still isn't fully repaired, is it?" Anton said while half-hauling her.
"That child, though a little afraid of treatment, has now recovered," Grace said, voice trembling with excitement. "I'll go finish healing that child first, then come back to discuss Mr. Ignis's power armor."
"Believe me, I can improve the Hollow Operations Suit design even further." Grace's voice faded as she was pulled away.
Ben and Koleda exchanged slightly awkward looks. They had asked the Cunning Hares to send someone over to cooperate for a photo shoot, but Grace wanting to disassemble the man's power armor for research right after meeting him was... less than polite.
"It's fine. I can have a brief exchange with her," Ignis said, breaking the silence. "Though I don't know how much it'll actually help her research. Still, a developer passionate about their craft is always worth talking to."
"Ahahaha..." Ben chuckled awkwardly. Though he looked intimidating, the bear was actually gentle. "That's very kind of you."
"If it helps Grace's work, I can pay you extra," said Koleda matter-of-factly, ever the practical boss. "But Ben, you'll stay here today."
"Again?" Ben sounded a little exasperated at the order.
"Who else, then? Grace or Anton?" Koleda sighed. "Neither of them are exactly reliable. Better to bring those two into the Hollow with me."
"Alright, alright." The Bear Thiren agreed helplessly. "Then Mr. Ignis, you'll stay with me today—walk around, take some photos."
Though Ignis was curious about what they were doing inside the Hollow, that was beyond his assigned duties. Considering their deliberate effort to keep him away from the discussion with Phaethon, the Salamander chose not to ask more and simply accepted the arrangement.
In New Eridu, thanks to the widespread use of intelligent equipment and the presence of Thirens, construction progressed faster than Ignis had imagined.
Belobog Heavy Industries had employed a large number of Bear Thirens, along with various intelligent machines assisting on-site. Ben explained that Belobog wasn't just a construction contractor—it was also a manufacturer of advanced machinery.
The machine Ignis had stopped earlier was their latest flagship product: a Universal Heavy-Duty Chassis for Hollow Operations. By replacing its upper assembly, it could be transformed into different types of heavy machinery.
"Ever since we took on this project, people have been targeting us," Ben said as he led Ignis around the construction site. "Sometimes it's just street punks picking fights, or even intercepting our trucks and demanding tolls."
"What about Public Security? Don't they intervene?" Ignis asked, curious. The only Bear Thiren he'd seen before was Ironclaw who he'd killed.
"Too far away," Ben sighed. "Even if we call, by the time they arrive, the delay's already cost us. A truck being held up even for an hour is enough to ruin our schedule."
During construction, materials typically arrived just before they were needed—storage space on-site was limited. Any shortage or delay halted workflow and pushed back later stages of the project.
The worst was ready-mix concrete. If a mixer truck got held up too long, the concrete inside would start to harden. Not only would it be unusable, but they'd also have to compensate the supplier for the loss.
After all, it was their delay that caused the incident.
"Ever thought about just driving over them?" Ignis asked. "A body can't stop a truck."
"If it were that simple, I'd have done it," Ben said, shaking his head. He turned and shouted to a worker whose safety helmet was crooked, "Wear your helmet properly!"
Startled, the worker immediately straightened his helmet and fastened the chin strap tight.
Watching that, Ignis felt strangely satisfied. Honestly, he'd been resisting the same impulse all day. Guess my soul's trapped here because I didn't get to run off carrying a red bucket.
"But now we've got media breathing down our necks," Ben said, shoulders slumping. "If we make one wrong move, they'll blow it up tenfold. Run someone over, and suddenly those punks blocking the trucks become victims."
"You'd see headlines like, 'Belobog Heavy Industries clashes with environmentalists—several dead after company truck plows through protesters.'" The Bear Thiren scratched his chin. "This project's a big, juicy piece of meat. Too many people want a bite. If you folks hadn't destroyed and exposed Vision Corporation's plan, we'd never have gotten it."
"But thanks to what Vision did, now everyone's watching us. Every rumor, every controversy—competitors waiting for us to slip up so they can swoop in."
Ignis noticed that there were quite a few Bangboos around, even several Bangboo foremen. Ben introduced them one by one. Because the work involved Hollow operations, Belobog was very careful about recruiting workers with suitable Ether Aptitude, and they also stocked large quantities of anti-corrosion agents for safety.
Bear Thirens excelled at this—they were physically strong and naturally resistant to ether exposure. Minor Ethereal infestations? They could handle them themselves. True examples of "our workers have power."
With strength like that, small-time gangs wouldn't normally dare to provoke them—but the ever-watchful media made sure Belobog couldn't fight back.
"A few days ago, Anton went on a talk show, and the host deliberately provoked him," Ben said, guiding some workers away from a lifting zone. "It caused quite the stir. The more people watch, the less we can afford to mess up."
Ben had Ignis stand before stacks of anti-corrosion agent crates and took a few pictures, then moved to the warehouse storing Hollow operation gear for more shots.
By the time they came out, the other three from Belobog had already gone into the Hollow, leaving Ben as the only supervisor on-site.
Just then, a crowd gathered at the gate—covered in tattoos, looking like trouble.
"Hey, where's your manager? Get out here!" one of them, clearly the ringleader, shouted while rattling the gate. "My boys want some work here!"
The Belobog security guards looked troubled, but seeing Ben approach, they immediately relaxed.
"What's going on? Who are you people?" Ben asked sternly. The scar over his left eye was intimidating enough that the gangsters instinctively took a step back.
Ignis noticed several cameras and camcorders already being set up at the corner nearby. Fast movers, he thought.
"We saw your recruitment posters! Came here for work!" the ringleader said, pulling out a wrinkled poster. "What do you say? I've got plenty of strong brothers here!"
Ben unfolded the poster—it was years old. Belobog Heavy Industries wasn't even hiring right now.
"Sorry, we're not taking new workers. And even if we were, you'd need to provide your Ether Aptitude test reports," Ben said politely, handing the poster back.
Ignis, familiar with this kind of scene, knew politeness only made these people bolder. With the gate blocked, any delay in material delivery or worker movement could snowball fast.
"Then you should've said that earlier! I brought everyone here already!" The ringleader kicked the gate in frustration. "You damn black-hearted company! Pay us travel compensation!"
"Yeah, pay the travel fee!" The rest of the gang cheered at the mention of money.
"Either hire us or pay up, or we're not leaving!" the leader shouted, waving his arm. The group yelled louder.
Belobog's workers heard the commotion but kept quiet—after all, the media lenses were already aimed at them.
Ben was cornered. Paying them meant showing weakness—they'd keep coming. Using force meant getting smeared all over the news.
"Open the gate. I'll deal with them," Ignis said. "I'm not one of your employees. If anything happens, just say I'm some idle drifter or temp worker."
"Huh? You sure?" Ben asked, surprised.
"Consider it paying back the favor from the Vision incident," Ignis replied, rolling his shoulders.
At Ben's signal, the security guards opened the gate. The gang swaggered in, smirking.
"So, what's it gonna be? Hiring us, or paying us off?" the leader sneered. "And listen, our brothers have faith—we can't eat the same food as you. Gotta have our own kitchen."
Ignis looked at him and almost laughed. There was something he'd been wanting to do for a long time.
"You know, there's one thing you should always remember on a construction site." The towering, three-meter-tall Salamander loomed over him, voice low.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" the thug said, squaring his shoulders.
"Once you step on-site..." Ignis's massive hand twitched. "Helmet on!"
The man described a perfect parabola as he flew through the air. Unfortunately for the nearby reporters, they were still repositioning their cameras and missed the shot.
"Idiots, do you even have safety helmets on? And you just waltz straight in here?" Ignis roared, voice like thunder. "Get the hell out of here!"
Seeing their boss fly like that, the rest of the thugs scrambled to flee before they could experience it firsthand.
"You didn't kill him, did you?" Ben asked, concerned. A death here would be a nightmare.
"Relax, I had control. Worst case, he's paralyzed from the waist down," Ignis said with a sigh. "Damn, I've wanted to do that for ages."
"If I'd really meant to kill him, it wouldn't be the man flying—it'd be just his head." Ignis felt downright cleansed.
Anyone who's ever worked safety on a construction site knows there's no end to reckless behavior. Sometimes, you just want to slap someone to death.
Like those scaffolders who refuse safety harnesses, boasting, "Been doing this for decades—never fallen once."
Back then, Ignis would look down from ten stories up and itch to slap that man right off the scaffold.
Today, he finally got his wish.