"Have to what?" Phyllis pressed.
"That's why I have to create 'Monster-Class Armors' for you all—gear that can leap over the attribute chasm and let you truly shine on the battlefield! Hahaha!"
Lawson suddenly burst into a boisterous, though slightly forced, laugh. The evasion was practically written all over his face.
He quickly averted his gaze and pointed toward the other side of the hall.
"If you really want to hone your skills, go to the Virtual Combat Room next to the Command Center.
It can simulate various extreme environments and known enemies. Although it can only test armors you already own, it's enough for tactical drills."
"I understand. Thank you for the patient explanation. Once I've saved enough materials for my next set, I'll definitely visit again!" Phyllis bowed politely and began to disengage her armor to leave. However, at that exact moment—
The rhythmic tap of footsteps echoed against the metal floor.
The moment George stepped into the workshop, Phyllis froze as if struck by a high-voltage current.
Time seemed to solidify. Phyllis's eyes widened, her face flushing a deep crimson.
Her slender index finger began to rub frantically against her outer thigh—a sign of extreme agitation.
Her panicked expression looked less like someone seeing a monster and more like a "socially anxious fan" encountering an idol that made her soul tremble.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Just as George was about to walk past her, Phyllis seemed to reach a sudden resolution. She lowered her head and accelerated, her frantic, messy steps taking her past George in a blur.
She didn't dare look at him once, as if he were a scorching sun that would blind anyone who stared.
Like a gust of wind, she vanished through the forge doors.
George paused, his slender fingers instinctively touching his cold cheek.
His deep eyes, usually as calm as a frozen lake, showed a rare spark of confusion.
What is with that girl?
George thought to himself. Every time she sees me, it's like she's seen a ghost. Has staying in this world made my face turn monstrous?
"Don't flatter yourself. That reaction didn't look like fear; it looked like a 'Fans' having a massive social anxiety breakdown upon seeing their idol," Lawson interrupted George's thoughts with a mischievous grin.
George retracted his gaze, instantly regaining his frost-like demeanor.
He turned to the counter. "I've come to collect the goods, Mr. Lawson."
"I've been waiting for you." Lawson's smile faded, replaced by a solemn gravity.
He gestured toward the display pod against the wall. A chill, smelling of cold metal and pulsating with magical fluctuations, flowed within.
The {Mage Heart} set was suspended neatly inside the chamber.
George's phone chimed: "—ARMOR LINK!!!"
Countless pure-white nano-modules swarmed toward him like fireflies drawn to a magnetic force, latching onto his body and restructuring.
As the light faded, the {Mage Heart} stood revealed—a creation that looked like a divine miracle.
It had discarded all bulky plates and heavy frames in favor of a pristine, pure-white aesthetic.
The lines were sharp yet minimalist, giving off an illusion of weightlessness.
The most striking feature was the headpiece. It wasn't a traditional helmet; instead, it resembled an ancient Arch mage draped in a sacred metallic hood, closely veiling George's face.
Cold, white light patterns flowed across the surface, sketching a pair of narrow, deep compound-eye traces on the "face," radiating an air of detached majesty.
The torso plating was as thin as a cicada's wing, hugging his body's curves.
It looked less like armor and more like a flowing, high-density sacred robe.
In the center of the chest, a circular elemental crystal pulsed like a heart, emitting a soft but steady white glow that pumped continuous magical pulses through the suit.
The soul of the armor, however, resided in George's hands.
Beneath the snow-white gauntlets, complex glowing mana-circuits writhed like living things.
At the center of each palm, a perfectly cut circular crystal replaced the traditional muzzle of a thermal weapon.
It wasn't a flamethrower; it was a collapse point for all magical energy, ready to unleash a compressed elemental torrent at a moment's notice.
As George performed a test chant, the gem projectors on the edges of his combat boots activated.
A circular, holographic magic array bloomed beneath his feet, expanding as an absolute anchor for the release of power.
"Not bad. It fits perfectly," George flexed his fingers, marveling at the synchronization rate.
"Mr. Lawson, your skills are truly impressive. You didn't even measure my physique, yet it feels tailor-made."
"That's thanks to this world's unique plastic nano-metal," Lawson explained while adjusting his calibrator.
"It automatically adjusts to the user's body on a micrometer scale. It's standard for all armor."
"I see. The technology of this world is far more advanced than I imagined."
George touched the crystal on his chest, a look of grim determination in his eyes. "Thank you. With this armor, I can challenge the higher-tier zones and unlock even stronger branches."
"Hey, George! Don't do anything reckless. One slip-up in those places and you're dead! Can't you just build a foundation first?"
"...I understand." George paused. His silhouette, stretched by the lights, looked lonely and profound.
"But if I don't become strong enough, I won't be able to reach that place..."
He whispered the last part in a voice only he could hear.
For a reason no one knew—a reason that had to be realized—he had long since embraced his resolve.
Lawson whispered while watching George leave the Forge, "I wonder what level of strength the {Mage Heart} armor will reach after I finish re-coding it."
He was successful unleashed the full potential of the armor.
At that moment, the workshop was a chaotic symphony of metal and excitement.
Warriors were returning to equip their newly enhanced gear.
Seeing their transformed selves in the mirrors and feeling the massive surge in power, the room was filled with a mix of post-survival relief and a growing fever for strength.
By the time they filed out, night had long since fallen.
For the salarymen of the old world, this would have been the hour to shed their exhaustion; for these warriors, rest was a luxury they couldn't afford.
A new battle was brewing in the shadows.
Suddenly, a piercing alarm shrieked across the sky, only to cut out abruptly a few seconds later.
Then, every light in the base flickered and died. The world was plunged into a thick, viscous darkness.
However, the interior of the workshop remained as bright as day. The gem on {Mage Heart}'s chest radiated a holy white light, illuminating everything with crystalline clarity.
"That gem of yours is a real treasure," Lawson remarked with a mischievous grin, eyeing George.
"Don't disengage your armor just yet. With that brightness, you're the perfect candidate to light the way for everyone."
"I refuse," George replied flatly. "I am not your backup generator, nor am I a flashlight."
"Don't be so cold. The base is pitch black; everyone's probably terrified."
Lawson leaned in, his voice persuasive. "Think of it as an act of mercy. Be a mobile light source just this once."
"I... Tch!"
George took a deep breath. Under that expectant (and incredibly thick-skinned) gaze, he finally succumbed and followed silently behind Lawson.