Chapter 78: Machinist's Station LVL 3
As the amasec-induced haze began to lift from Reno's mind, his eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was the grimy, flickering ceiling of the conduit. The second thing was Kian Voss's grinning face looming over him.
"Holy Throne!"
Reno scrambled backward on the cot, nearly falling off. "What are you doing? Where am I?!"
He looked around in a panic, his hands immediately flying to his backside to ensure everything was still "sealed." Finding no pain and his trousers still dry and fastened, he let out a long, shaky breath.
Kian's grin faded into a look of dry disappointment. "Relax, Reno. I was just checking to see if you were still among the living. While you were busy snoring, I went out and sanitized the Blackwater Cult for you. Did you think I spent the night watching you sleep?"
Reno blinked, the memories of the night before returning in jagged fragments. "The Blackwater... wait. Why did you go out there?"
Kian's eyes widened. "By the God-Emperor's teeth, don't tell me you drank yourself into a memory-wipe. We had a deal, remember?"
Kian reached behind him and pulled out the severed, two-faced head of the mutant leader. He held it up like a puppet, using his fingers to manipulate the creature's jaw.
In a high-pitched, mocking imitation of Reno's voice, Kian made the head "speak": "I'm Reno... Overseer of the Taps! When I was a Ranger, I said what I meant! Clear the pipes, Voss, and I'll run you a private line of unlimited water! I swear it on my Spire-blood!"
Reno's face turned a violent shade of red. "Throne... did I really say that? The Guild would have my head for establishing an unauthorized black-tap!"
He looked to his guards—his personal retinue of Mid-Hive "pretty boys"—for support. Instead, the guards just nodded solemnly.
"He's right, Boss," one of them said, holding a case of Grox-meat. "You promised him. Everyone heard it. Besides, Master Voss brought back the bones of our missing technicians. They were being used as toothpicks by those freaks."
The guard held up the bundle of blue uniforms and identification slates. "The Master cleared the debt, Boss. He did the Guild's work while you were under the table."
Reno looked at the bones, then at the severed head, then at Kian. He let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Fine. A contract is a contract," Reno whispered, pulling Kian into a corner. "I'll run a high-pressure line from the main artery. I'll mask the flow as 'Maintenance Loss.' But listen well, Voss—that water is for your brewery only. If you start selling it to the gangs, the Administratum will see the pressure drop, and we'll both end up as servitors."
Kian clapped him on the shoulder. "Reno, my friend, I knew you were a man of your word. If you ever have more 'dirty work' that needs a fast, lethal solution, you vox me first. I'm your private auditor."
He loaded two more cases of canned Grox and a bottle of high-proof moonshine into Reno's survey crawler. As the Guild detail drove away into the darkness, Kian turned to Shiv and the Joels.
"See that?" Kian said proudly. "That's called the 'Strategic Retreat to Victory.' Watch and learn, boys."
The next few days were a blur of production and self-improvement. Kian spent his hours grinding his Psionic Proficiency. Under the influence of the Sanctified Spirits (+10 Mental Clarity), he managed to keep a ten-kilogram iron pipe suspended in the air for twenty seconds. The time was increasing with every session.
Between the training and the heavy lifting, his physical stats saw a sharp spike:
Strength: 17 | Endurance: 17 | Mental Clarity: 23.
He was becoming physically imposing. His shoulders were broader, his posture was rock-solid, and his features were taking on a sharper, more predatory edge.
The second batch of amasec had been moved through Rudolphson for another 80,000 scrips. With his wallet finally overflowing, Kian decided it was time for the "Big Spend."
He returned to Nephal's shop and handed over almost every scrip he possessed—plus half the golden Spire-relics he'd scavenged. He hauled the three massive machines back to his Sanctum: the High-Pressure Forging Press, the Munitions Cogitator, and the Ceramite Homogenizer.
[DING! SANCTUM UPGRADE: MACHINIST'S STATION (LVL 3)]
Level 3 was a revolution. He no longer needed to manually file guns or trade for every bullet. He could now Manufacture.
The station featured three primary modules:
1. Weapon Smithing:
He could manufacture all PDF-pattern firearms.
Input: 1x Scrapped/Broken Firearm + 5x Metal Scraps.
Output: 1x Pristine Firearm.
Process Time: 1–3 Hours.
2. Munitions Smithing:
He could produce anything from Grade-1 to Grade-5 ammunition.
Input (Example: PDF Grade-3 Slugs): 1x Industrial Detonator + 5x Brass Scraps.
Output: 300 Rounds.
Process Time: 3 Hours.
Kian stared at the yield in awe. He was inputting a handful of materials and outputting enough lead to clear a trench. It was almost like the System was printing matter from the Warp itself.
3. Armor Smithing:
The Homogenizer allowed him to refine low-grade industrial ceramite into military-grade plate.
Protocol: 2 units of Industrial Ceramite Dust → 1 unit of High-Purity Ceramite.
Kian checked the final recipe for the tier.
Input: High-purity Ceramite Powder x15, any fabric x2, Metal Scrap x1. Output: One suit of Grade-4 Full-Protection Ceramite Armor.
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