Phyllis stood frozen in the waiting area, watching these two "Big Brothers" who, moments ago, looked ready to paint the walls with each other's blood.
Due to her sudden appearance, the entire scene felt as if the system had suddenly skipped a frame.
In one second, they were at each other's throats; in the next, they had miraculously transformed into "blood brothers" who looked inseparable.
Dodge's arm—thicker than an average person's thigh—slid violently around Lawson's neck.
On the surface, it looked like a friendly embrace between old pals, but in reality, it was packed with enough brute force to crush a steel pipe, forcing half of Lawson's body to sag.
While maintaining a stiff, frozen smile, Dodge hissed a frantic threat into Lawson's ear:
"Bro... if you don't want your shoulder dislocated right now, play along! If the rookies who worship you find out we were kicked out by Katie like a couple of trash bags, our 'Iron-Blooded Tough Guy' personas are finished! How are we supposed to keep face in this base?!"
Lawson's eyes were rolling back from the chokehold, but his heavy {Mercy Hammer} wasn't idle either. The handle was stealthily digging into the softest part of Dodge's ribs. He shot back through gritted teeth:
"Holy... I'm the victim here, you idiot! Let go! Don't force me to activate this hammer's binding ability and nail you to the wall until you write a formal apology! Stand down, now!"
And so, they maintained this bizarre pose before Phyllis, staging a grand production of The Blame Game: Infernal Affairs Edition. Every micro-expression was an Oscar-worthy performance; every movement was a desperate attempt to salvage their shattered dignity.
Watching these two twisted men—faces flushed red while forcing themselves to smile—Phyllis wasn't sure whether she should call the police or offer her condolences.
Faced with these "Method Actors" who were wrestling purely for the sake of their reputation, Phyllis displayed a level of calm and maturity far beyond her years.
She didn't show a hint of "I see right through you" disdain; instead, she chose the polite and elegant path of "Willful Blindness."
This height of compassion made Dodge and Lawson, who were still straining until their faces were crimson, feel like toddlers playing in the mud.
Phyllis smoothed out her skirt and gave a slight bow to the two "paused" men, getting straight to the point:
"I'm sorry to interrupt your... 'sparring session.' I'm here as per the system notification to pick up my armor."
Her soft tone was like a bucket of ice water in winter, instantly extinguishing the pointless competitive fires atop the two men's heads.
Lawson awkwardly retracted the hammer handle from Dodge's ribs, and Dodge yanked back his massive arm as if he'd been electrocuted.
The two of them stood up straight simultaneously, straightening their messy collars while letting out incredibly unnatural, dry coughs.
"Ahem! Oh, it's you, Phyllis. Right, the armor. Yes, it's ready."
Lawson switched instantly from "Street Brawl Mode" back to "Professional Armor Smith Mode," though his bloodshot eyes betrayed his internal agitation. "Go on, it's waiting for its linker."
As the link synchronized, a majestic, heroic aura swept through the Armor Forge. The hum of high-voltage electricity filled the air. Dodge let out a low whistle.
"That armor... she looks like a Valkyrie from legend. I'm almost tempted to die just to become her 'Einherjar'."
"Then go solo the Shadow King in your {Tiger Soul}. You'll achieve 'Heroic Spirit' status instantly," Lawson retorted, though his eyes were beaming with professional pride. "That is {Saint Silver}, a Thunder-attribute Knight-class masterpiece."
The two men stood behind the counter, admiring the armor shimmering in the flickering light. It was a base of matte silver, accented by vibrant, high-energy yellow modules.
Aesthetics: A base of matte silver with high-reflectivity, accented by vibrant high-energy yellow modules. It combined the cold austerity of a knight with the coiled tension of a lightning bolt.
The Helm: A full-face tactical helmet inspired by medieval great-helms. Beneath the dark polarized visor, a horizontal yellow neon sensor bar flickered with cold electronic light. Wing-like antennae extended from the sides, doubling as high-frequency infrared arrays that could see through solid earth.
The Core: A streamlined yellow chest plate traced Phyllis's silhouette. At its center sat a diamond-shaped cold fusion reactor, where surges of lightning swirled deep within, fueling the entire suit.
Weaponry: The left forearm housed a hexagonal generator that could deploy a translucent, electrified hard-light shield. The right arm featured a plasma projector, when activated, a plasma lighting blade protrudes from there that capable of shearing through any physical armor.
"Phyllis, how does it feel? Can you feel the hot blood of a knight?" Lawson asked.
Phyllis looked down at her silver-clad hands, silent for a long time.
"Mr. Lawson... the feeling is great, but... it's missing a cape. It feels like it's missing its soul."
"Pffft—!" Dodge nearly choked. "Don't tell me you're a 'cape-maniac'? Did you watch too much Superman as a kid?"
"Mr. Dodge! No!" Phyllis turned bright red, her electronic visor flickering. "...I just... I really, really like the way they flutter in the wind. It's a Knight's dignity!"
"That's a bit tricky," Lawson laughed. "B-rank armor prioritizes utility. But don't worry—from A-rank up to SSS-rank, capes are practically standard. You'll get so many, you'll get tired of them."
"Really?" The dullness in Phyllis's eyes vanished, replaced by a blazing fire. She clenched her electrified fist.
"Understood! I will fight my way to A-rank! I won't stop until I'm wearing every kind of cape imaginable!"
The workshop doors slid open again. Victor and Valerie walked in, their footsteps echoing. "Big Brother Lawson! We're here for the power-up!" Victor shouted.
"Hey, Phyllis!" Valerie's eyes immediately locked onto the {Saint Silver}. "Wow! You look like you just stepped out of a gacha game! So cool!"
Valerie didn't wait. She dashed to the self-service terminal, her heart racing. When the {Blaze Punch} armor successfully linked, the temperature in the room rose by ten degrees.
"My god..." Dodge's voice cracked. "Valerie's armor... it's actually on fire!"
"That is the {Blaze Punch}," Lawson explained, crossing his arms.
"I designed it for her brawler style."
The armor was a pitch-black headpiece with a single, straight horn wreathed in perpetual, unquenchable flames. It hugged Valerie's silhouette, emphasizing agility and power.
At her chest, a circular flame sigil "shook" with thermal energy, while her massive gauntlets vented lethal bursts of fire. Every time she moved, her feet left glowing, molten footprints on the workshop floor.
"Listening to this... I'm literally drooling," Dodge sighed, looking like a total fanboy. "Look at that 'shaking' sigil, and those curves..."
"Mr. Dodge, Mr. Lawson," Valerie's voice cut into the channel, dripping with hidden danger. Sparks danced between her flaming fingers. "What topic is so 'thirst-quenching' that you two seniors have forgotten your manners?"
"Nothing! I... I was just discussing 'Oral Secretion Science' with Lawson! Hahaha!" Dodge scrambled to cover his tracks.
"Is that so?" Valerie slowly raised her gauntlets. "I thought I heard someone discussing 'impressive curves' and 'shaking'? Do you two want a 'physical cooling' session, or should I just arrange your 'cremation' right here?"
"CRAP! Valerie, put the fist down! We'll turn into well-done steak!" Lawson and Dodge scrambled for the exit, vanishing into the hallway in a blur of panic.
Valerie exhaled, powering down her gauntlets as she watched the two "idiots" flee. "Those two are hopeless..."
"It's normal, Valerie," Victor shrugged, though his voice carried a hint of playful affection. "There aren't many men who can resist your charm. Well, except me."
"You want a beating too? You—" Valerie stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes locked onto Victor, and for a moment, her breath hitched.
Victor had stepped out of his pod, and the {Furious Shark} armor was a visual masterpiece. It glowed with a ghostly sky-blue light, featuring a signature shark-fin crest running from the jaw to the crown.
Blue light pulsed from his chest core, spreading through his limbs like glowing veins beneath the skin.
"Concept: Apex Predator," Victor said, admiring himself in a liquid-metal mirror. "High-mobility, water-attribute. I don't run anymore, Valerie. I glide."
He demonstrated, his boots jetting high-density water atoms, allowing him to slide low to the ground like a speedboat cutting through a storm.
The folding blade on his arm hummed with an irregular energy field, ready to shear through steel.
Lawson peeked back into the room from the doorway, seeing the team finally gathered in their B-Rank glory.
"The team is ready," Lawson whispered to himself. "The East Sector doesn't know what's coming."