# CHAPTER 33: FOUNDATION OF THE FUTURE

  The euphoria of rebirth slowly gave way to cold, hard analysis.

  Vance stood in the center of the workshop, gripping his old "Seismic Hammer." This weapon, which only yesterday seemed the pinnacle of destruction, now looked like a child's toy in his massive, pearlescent-white hand.

  He squeezed his fingers slightly.

  *CRACK.*

  The hammer's handle, forged from hardened steel, crumpled like a paper tube.

  "Fragile," Vance rumbled, staring at the debris. "My grip strength exceeds the yield strength of this metal. I will snap it on the first swing."

  Marcus sat on a crate, cycling the bolt of his sniper rifle. His movements were a blur—his new nano-tendons firing with impossible speed.

  "Same here," the sniper nodded, setting the weapon aside. "This mechanical action slows me down. By the time the firing pin hits the primer, I've already calculated three trajectories. Old iron doesn't suit us anymore."

  ### THE PRICE OF A MASTERPIECE

  Vance turned to Spark. The four-armed engineer was hanging upside down from a support beam, calibrating scanners, looking absolutely blissful.

  "Spark," Vance began seriously. "We need to discuss payment. You saved our lives. You made us... this. We owe you more than just credits. What is your price? Do you want a share? Or will you go your own way?"

  Spark froze for a second, then his shoulders began to shake. He laughed—a ringing, slightly manic sound, the laugh of a true fanatic of his craft. He dropped down, landing softly as a cat.

  "Owe me?" he asked, wiping his optics. "Oh no, my friends. It is *I* who cannot quantify my gratitude to fate for bringing me to you."

  He walked up to Vance and tapped a knuckle against his white armor.

  "Do you even understand what you gave me? You gave me the materials of Gods and allowed me to create without limits. I created **Masterpieces**. No master in the city, no corporate rat from 'Iron Horizon' has ever done anything like this. This is the pinnacle of my art!"

  Spark spread all four arms wide, encompassing his friends in his gaze.

  "Here is what I will tell you: if you want to get rid of me from your group—you will have to kill me. But now, I will not detach myself from you until my life and spark are extinguished. This is the beginning of the most interesting part of my existence."

  He squinted all three eyes slyly.

  "And you ask what you owe me? You owe me a pile, no, a **mountain** of new loot! Exclusive, rare, dangerous materials! From which I will make something even cooler for you. I want to surpass myself. That is my price."

  Vance and Marcus exchanged glances. Respect shone in their eyes. They hadn't just found a technician; they had found a brother-in-arms.

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  "Agreed," Vance nodded. "There will be loot. I promise."

  ### CUSTOM ORDER

  The conversation shifted to pressing matters.

  "Regarding gear," Spark continued, his tone turning serious. "Forget about stores. Nexus, the city's gun shops—they sell junk for tin cans. For **[EVO]** class bodies, an individual approach is required."

  "Meaning, we can't just buy a gun?" Marcus clarified.

  "No," Spark cut him off. "Standard weapons will melt from your reactor energy or crumble from your strength. A weapon must be an extension of your body. It must feed from you."

  Vance looked at his fists.

  "I don't need a hammer that I can lose."

  "Exactly," Spark jumped in. "I will create **'Hands of God'** for you. Integrated power gauntlets."

  He projected a hologram:

  * **Left Arm:** A built-in heavy rotary autocannon, belt-fed directly from a backpack hopper.

  * **Right Arm:** Gravitational Pistons, amplified by your Golden Core. You will be able to punch with localized nuclear explosions in melee combat.

  "And I need silence and penetration," Marcus said quietly.

  "For you—a **Hybrid Railgun**," the Architect replied. "Barrel made from Crystal Spider legs. It doesn't heat up. Two modes: needle-fire for stealth and rail-fire for destroying tanks. Power source—direct feed from your Red Diamond."

  ### BIRTH OF A CLAN

  When the weapon discussion concluded, Marcus, who had been silent and analyzing the situation, stepped into the light. His figure shimmered, blending with the shadows before manifesting again.

  "There are three of us now," his voice sounded cold and measured. "We are a full combat unit. And with capabilities like these, we will soon become a bone in the throat of many."

  He looked at Vance.

  "This is a sign, Commander. It is time for us to step out of the shadow of 'drifters.' We need to register our own **Clan**. Officially."

  "A Clan?" Vance asked. "Why do we need that bureaucracy?"

  "To survive," Marcus explained. "We killed a Boss. We have unique bodies. Soon, people will find out about us. If we remain just a gang, 'Iron Horizon' or the City Authority will come here and try to 'confiscate' us or purge us as a threat."

  Marcus swept his hand around the bunker.

  "While it is not too late, while no one knows who we truly are, we need to act proactively. I propose we buy this land."

  "Buy the bunker?" Spark asked, surprised.

  "Along with the surrounding territory," Marcus nodded affirmatively. "We have 75,000 credits. That is enough for a down payment or a full lease of a sector in the 'dead zone'."

  "What is the point?" Vance asked.

  "Legitimacy. It will become our private property. Any intrusion here will be a violation of the Corporate Law. It gives us a legal shield. Plus..." Marcus's eyes flared red. "With this rate of progress, we will soon outgrow this place. We will have to expand. Warehouses, testing grounds, a defense perimeter. It is better to find common ground with the City Authority now, as official mercenary-owners, than to fight them later as wild renegades."

  Vance pondered this. His golden core pulsed, illuminating the room.

  "You are right, Shadow. We aren't just building a base. We are building a fortress."

  He glanced at the terminal.

  "Spark, prepare the documents for registering Clan 'Vanguard'. Marcus, find channels to purchase the land so it doesn't look suspicious. And I..."

  He slammed his fists together, striking sparks.

  "I will plan our future expansion."

  Work began to boil. Old junk flew into the destructor, transforming into resources for a new era. The era of their dominion.