Under the watchful gazes of many, Damian left the arena and rose back up, straight to the man who'd given him the wristband.
A minute later, the wristband was returned, and Damian checked his phone to confirm the deposit of 2 million credits.
The grimy kiosk, which looked like it had been ripped from a crashed starship, still held that same man with a mechanical jaw and wires running into his ears. At this moment, he was watching Damian with a calculated smile, glancing around as he asked.
"I remember you came here with your lady friend, but I don't see her now. Where could she be?"
…!
Damian could feel the many eyes watching his every move.
And yet, Anastasia was nowhere in sight. For good reason. She was nothing if not decisive.
The moment she saw him skewer the Enforcer through the chest, she'd left right away while the crowd was still frozen in shock. She knew exactly what would happen next.
Damian could turn invisible. He'd slip through the chaos easily.
But her? She would have slowed him down. He'd have been forced to protect her while trying to escape as many things could go wrong.
So she made it easier for both of them by sending just a few texts.
[Left. Meet outside…good job.]
And then, minutes later.
[Safely hiding in the Krusty Squid. Private Room #8.]
"…"
She was resourceful. She made it out on her own.
Damian turned back to the kiosk man and replied casually as he walked away.
"A woman? You might need to get those ocular implants checked. I've been alone the whole time."
…!
He said it coolly, striding toward the freight elevator. People around him chatted in groups, pretending they had nothing to do with him…
But they kept sneaking glances his way—each glance sharp, calculating, waiting for a moment to strike.
Damian stayed calm. On his shoulder, Kitsuul glared at the obvious greed and bloodlust in their eyes, quietly asking if they were all enemies who needed to be put to sleep.
Damian shook his head as he stepped into the freight elevator and moved to the center. More people piled in, cybernetic humans buzzing with the scent of electricity and oil.
Unlike the noisy chaos outside, the elevator was dead silent once its doors closed.
No conversation.
Just the whir of cybernetic implants and twisting gears.
Many stared at Damian—thinking about those 2 million credits.
He stared forward, his voice cold and sharp.
"You all just watched me kill a hound, a massive cybernetic human, and an Enforcer. And you still think it's smart to attack me for some credits?"
…!
He spoke like someone trying to inject a little logic into their greed-soaked minds.
But.
These were people of the Hollow Stacks.
Heavily modified, overworked, and tossed aside by the rich. Desperation clung to them.
The elites from Skyglass Heights, the Glassbloods, called them the Stackborn.
Born in the Hollow Stacks. Died in the Hollow Stacks.
And when the Glassbloods were feeling extra cruel, they called them Synthwretches—people with barely-functioning synthetic mods, always teetering between life and death.
These were the Stackborn. And right now, Damian stood surrounded by them.
Even after his warning, no one backed down. Seconds later—who started it was unclear—but a Stackborn with a cybernetic arm lunged toward the device in Damian's hand.
Then all hell broke loose in the freight elevator.
"Get off!"
"He's mine!"
"I gotta recover my losses!"
Stackborn with sketchy mods shoved and punched and screamed—until they realized something horrifying amidst their struggle
Damian was gone.
"Shit!"
"Scan everything! Heat signatures, motion—just scan!"
The elevator reached the top. Its metal doors creaked open, revealing a tangled mess of Stackborn still fighting…
But the one they wanted? Nowhere in sight.
Veiled, Damian slipped out of the freight elevator and disappeared into the crowds outside the Rustblood Circuit Arena. His eyes were cold. His mind burned with rage—but that didn't mean he wanted to kill every soul down here. The poor, miserable Stackborn… would live another day.
He reached up to stroke Kitsuul's fur. She nudged his neck gently. Her soft body made the rage within him simmer down just a little as he found his heart feeling a bit easier.
Together, they vanished into the ever-growing throngs of new people swarming the area, buzzing with news of the arena fight.
Damian ignored it all, walking toward the Krusty Squid where Anastasia waited. They'd earned enough credits now.
Time to buy what they needed.
Time to get the information they needed from ZENTHRA, and begin understanding the enemy he had to spill the blood of!
He moved forward, determined.
But behind him.
The chaos in the freight elevator. That entire scene—and everything leading up to it—was being broadcast live on a massive screen inside the depths of the Rustblood Circuit Arena.
The room it played in? Spotless. A hyperactive X-3 Series Cleanerbot zipped around like a maid on overdrive, polishing every inch of the screen-filled space holding multiple gadgets and computers.
At the center of it all lounged a large silver mastiff, a single flaming silver wing stretching from its back.
An Interstellar Beast!
It lay there lazily… with a woman draped across its belly like it was her personal couch. Her hair shimmered like stardust as her outfit…was minimal, to say the least.
She watched the screens with sharp interest—the fights Damian had been in, the chaos in the elevator.
"That's not a cybernetic mod…" she muttered. "Little doggy, you felt that energy fluctuation too, right? Even my eyes could not sense or see anything of his after that. Did I just see a fledgling Interstellar Beast Master in the Hollow Stacks?"
…!
Her dark eyes gleamed with dangerous curiosity.
The Interstellar Beast beneath her let out a low, rumbling roar—confirming her suspicion.
She sat up with a hum, grabbing a tablet with Damian's image flashing across it. Her voice dripped with intrigue.
"Alright. Let's find out everything we can about him. Us poor Beast Masters of the Hollow Stacks gotta stick together, right? Whether we want to or not…"
Her smile was madness wrapped in brilliance.
And from a speaker in the room, a voice crackled out.
"Yes, Rust Mother. I'll find out everything about that little rat who embarrassed HAO!"
…!
Rust Mother.
Owner of the Rustblood Circuit Arena.
Architect of death and chaos.
And, as it turned out, an Interstellar Beast Master herself.
At this very moment, she turned her gaze toward Damian!