The jet-black beast-type Mech stood in a cramped office, its bulk forced to bow like a hunting cat coiled to strike. The dark helm was a mechanical lion; rhombic purple crystals for eyes flickered with predator light. Claws ringed its palms and feet, and a thick spiked tail dragged behind like a thorny chain.

“Rebel, you—”

Hawkeye stared, shock a cold tide across his chest. He knew many nations had built humanoid Armor—solid tools, like rifles with legs—none like this Mech, conjured from other matter like fog given bones.

“Familiar, isn’t it?” Hongcheng lounged on the sofa, red wine glinting like blood under dim lamps. “Asura is outdated. Our Mechs are the strongest Armor in the world.”

“…”

“Rebel, did you toss that thing?”

Hawkeye’s gaze pinned Rebel like a hawk’s talon.

“That thing? You mean this?” Rebel’s voice came warped through the visor, metallic and hollow like wind in a steel pipe. He drew out a silver watch from behind him—the Sub-body Tang Ke had once given him.

“This useless trinket almost got me killed. Shadow Division used it to pin my location.” He clenched; the silver watch crumpled in those mechanical claws like dry ice under a hammer.

“Rebel! You got played!” Hawkeye’s anger flared like a torch in winter. “That’s the Captain’s Sub-body, forged with Anomalous Energy—how could Shadow Division track it?”

“But… they clearly found me by it…”

Confusion snarled inside Rebel. His head swayed like a storm-tossed mast; his eye crystals flickered, bright and dim, Asura’s shadow still a nail in his mind.

“Don’t forget who dragged you out of hell. Don’t let idle whispers drown your will.”

Hongcheng watched him, eyes narrowing; a thin black ripple crossed his gaze, like ink slipping under ice—Anomaly Power moving unseen.

“…Yes. I get it.”

At his word, Rebel steadied, like a beast tamed by a hidden whip. Hawkeye’s gut clenched; Hongcheng felt like a hand inside Rebel’s skull.

“Hawkeye, here’s your chance.”

Hongcheng slid a pair of black-rimmed glasses across the low table, the frame cold as midnight iron.

“I know Asura branded you deep. So I prepared the same style of Mech. Try it.”

“…”

Hawkeye lifted the glasses. A chill seeped up his fingers like frost; nothing like what Tang Ke gave him—no warmth, no pulse, only dead glass.

“Heh… sorry. Not my fit. You use it.”

He tossed the glasses back at Hongcheng, a pebble skipping cold water.

“…”

Hongcheng caught them and looked up, gaze a knife laid against Hawkeye’s throat.

“So talk won’t do. We’ll use another way. It’s a bit brutal, but a knife or a hammer—same end.”

“Do it.”

Hongcheng set the glasses down. His voice fell like a gavel.

“Roar!”

Rebel bellowed, sound like iron avalanching. He lunged. Hawkeye had expected the storm; his hand dipped into his pocket, scattering a palmful of steel beads at his feet like winter seed.

“Bang!”

The beads popped, and a gush of white smoke boiled out, coiling like ghosts.

“Crack!”

Glass shattered. Cloaked by smoke, Hawkeye dove out the second-floor window like a falling hawk. A breath later—

“Boom!”

The office erupted. The smoke bombs had teeth—real explosives hidden in the mist.

“Di-ling-ling…”

Alarms rippled through the base, a cold rain of bells. Soldiers and staff snapped into motion, a tide of bodies surging to posts.

Hawkeye hugged shadow under a truck, watching legs scissor past like reeds in wind. Some rushed into the warehouse; black Mechs stormed out, cradling massive rifles. A mini missile pod sat on each left shoulder, a thick cannon on the right—twenty or so, all the same, stamped like swallows from a mold.

“Out of my way!”

A low roar rolled from the burning second floor. Through flame, a black beast-type Mech stepped slow and sure, fire licking harmlessly along its plates like tame snakes. It stood at the window, eyes hunting a nearby truck.

“Hmph! Hawkeye, still timid. You’ve always pecked from afar. Up close, you’re a coward.”

Rebel’s taunt landed like gravel.

Spotted. Hawkeye’s thoughts tightened, a bowstring drawn. Their Mechs had detection. He had no good hole to hide in. And Rebel wasn’t wrong—he wasn’t a close-quarters fighter; the field was a swamp under his feet.

“This is boring. I’ll gift you a shot—take a Mech and fight me.”

Rebel murmured into his comm. A Mech strode out; its pilot, a young man, dropped from the Armor and melted back into the crowd like smoke.

“…”

Trap? The word pulsed in Hawkeye’s chest like a drum.

“What, lost your nerve, coward?” Rebel sneered, chin high like a lion on a rock. “Relax. Today I’ll make you yield with raw strength. No tricks.”

“…”

In the end, Hawkeye chose to gamble. He slid from under the truck, looked up at Rebel towering like a storm cloud, then turned and climbed into the black Mech.

The controls were simple, almost the same as Tang Ke had taught—a familiar map under strange stars. He flexed the limbs, let the rifle clatter to concrete, and squared into a fighter’s stance, hands open, breath steady.

“Thump!”

Rebel dropped from the second floor, hitting ground like a falling boulder. His claw spikes retracted, fingers reshaping to hands—he meant to brawl.

“Come! I’ll show you the real gap!”

He roared and charged, a black gale. In the firelit window above, a blurred figure watched, a needle of night sewing through flame.

Far off over the sea, above the clouds, three figures knifed through the wind.

“Coco, do we all need to go?”

Li Muyan wore her black Armor, voice bright as cold stars, speaking to Tang Coco beside her. Tang Coco flew in dark-violet Aerial Armor; Marilyn had somehow found a white set that gleamed like fresh snow.

“Honestly, just me and Lulu could do it. But to ease Xin and Yuting’s hearts, I’ll trouble you.”

Tang Coco’s tone was calm water, a smile under the surface.

“No trouble at all.”

Li Muyan laughed, heart beating drums—her first real fight, spirits high like a cresting wave.

“Coco, we have an incident.”

Marilyn’s voice cut in, clear as chimes on ice.

“What is it?”

“System reports a Sub-body destroyed. We can’t confirm location or which one.”

“A Sub-body got smashed?”

The news snapped Tang Coco’s thoughts like a twig. She had already reactivated Gu Xin’s and Meng Yuting’s Sub-bodies; it shouldn’t be them. She flew and thought, mind sifting clouds—then a sharp idea struck.

“Muyan! Don’t come with me. Hurry back to Ninghai and protect Xin and the others!”

Her urgency flared, lightning across her face.

“Huh?”

Li Muyan blinked, confusion a brief mist.

“Go first. Xin and the others may be in danger. You’ve got the strength to shield them.”

Tang Coco didn’t explain much; it was still a hunter’s guess in her gut.

“Got it!”

Li Muyan didn’t dither. She braked hard, body snapping like a hawk turning, then shot toward Ninghai at full speed, a black comet on a straight line.

“Lulu, we accelerate.”

“Understood.”

“Whoom—”

The two surged faster, spears toward the Shadow Division base.

By then, inside the base, the fight had lasted barely ten minutes—and ended.

“Boom!”

Hawkeye slammed into a wrecked truck, metal shrieking like rain on tin. His black Armor smoked; plating on his arm and waist had buckled, bent like wounded bark.

“Cough… cough…”

Pain raked his throat; blood brightened his lip like a red thread.

“Look at you. Without Asura’s support, your combat’s trash.”

Rebel stood over him, contempt a shadow’s grin.

“Heh…”

Hawkeye laughed at himself, a brittle sound like glass.

“So work with us. We can grant you your old strength. Whatever Asura gave, we can too.”

“Spit!” Hawkeye’s rage rose, a furnace in his chest. “The Captain didn’t just give us strength, Rebel. He gave trust. A pillar. A brother’s shelter.”

He forced the words out, each one a nail driven by will.

“Heh… what’s the use now? He’s a corpse. If we want to live, we rely on ourselves! Roar!”

Rebel dropped to all fours, a lion carved from night. The visor’s maw yawned; his roar carried Anomalous Energy, a sonic wave that slammed outward, blowing debris like leaves—and tearing the shattered Armor off Hawkeye’s frame.

“Boom! Clatter!”

Hawkeye hit the ground hard, Armor scattering like broken shells. Blood slicked his skin; cuts burned like salt. One thing stayed—the glasses still clung to his face like a second gaze.

“I won’t kill you, but pain teaches. Take it as punishment for playing stubborn.”

Rebel raised a claw and leveled a finger at him. A spike fired from that fingertip, a black dart of night.

“Pff!”

Hawkeye twisted, but the spike drilled through his right shoulder. Blood burst hot, a crimson flower.

“Tsk…”

He bit down on the pain, teeth a locked gate.

“Why dodge? You could’ve saved yourself hurt.”

Rebel shook his head, a teacher tired of fools. He lifted both hands; the remaining nine spikes streaked toward Hawkeye like shooting stars.

“Is it over…”

Hawkeye’s hope thinned to ash. He let his eyes fall shut, waiting for cold.

The spikes howled in, merciless. At that instant—

“Bang bang bang!!!”

Sounds like bullets biting concrete rang in his ears. Hawkeye opened his eyes slow, then wide—before him, a blue particle shield bloomed like a lotus of light. Before his mind could catch up, a mechanical voice slid into his ear, calm and metallic as winter steel:

“Sub-body activated. Falcon Armor booting…”