Ethan left the workshop behind, his turret deactivated and stored safely in the cramped back room where he'd spent the night. The streets of Neo Arcadia-2 greeted him with a sharp mix of noise and motion. Vendors shouted about their wares, children darted through narrow alleys, and overhead, holographic billboards flickered with advertisements for dungeon raids and weapon upgrades. Every inch of the city seemed alive, pulsing with chaotic energy.
He pulled his hood low, blending into the crowd. The thugs might not have returned yet, but it wouldn't take long for word to spread. He needed credits—and fast. His mind churned through the options. Neo Arcadia-2 wasn't just a haven for scavengers and mechanics; it was a battlefield for survival. The strong ruled, the clever thrived, and the unlucky vanished without a trace.
At the heart of the chaos, a large holographic display caught his attention. A live feed from the city's largest dungeon entrance dominated the screen. Teams of hunters stood poised, their weapons gleaming under artificial lights, while recruiters barked out promises of wealth and glory to onlookers.
Ethan stopped to watch. The dungeons here were smaller than the ones in the upper layers but still dangerous enough to keep the desperate in line. Teams filed into the shimmering portal, their faces a mix of confidence and nerves.
His gaze lingered on the scene for a moment longer before he turned away. He wasn't ready for a dungeon yet—not without better equipment or a clearer plan. Instead, his path led him toward the industrial district, where rumors spoke of repair contracts and resource hauls for those willing to work.
The smell of burning metal hit him before the sight of the scrapyard did. Massive heaps of twisted steel and broken machinery loomed over him as he entered. The sound of welding torches and clanging hammers echoed through the air. Workers moved between piles of scrap, their faces grim and focused.
A tall man in a grease-streaked jumpsuit barked orders to the crew, his voice rough but commanding. Ethan approached cautiously, keeping his movements deliberate and his expression neutral. The man noticed him immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing.
"You here to scavenge or cause trouble?" the man growled, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Neither," Ethan replied. "I'm a mechanic. Looking for work."
The man snorted, glancing at Ethan's patched-up jacket and worn boots. "You don't look like much. What kind of work?"
Ethan stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I can repair cores, stabilize plasma regulators, and optimize servo motors. Faster and cheaper than anyone you've got here."
The man raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Big talk for someone who just walked in. Got proof?"
Ethan pulled out his diagnostic tablet and displayed the schematics for the plasma turret he'd built. The man studied it for a moment, his skepticism slowly giving way to curiosity.
"Not bad," he admitted. "You do this yourself?"
"Every piece," Ethan said. "And I can do better with the right materials."
The man considered him for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. We've got a pile of broken drone cores that need fixing. If you can get at least two of them operational, I'll pay you 200 credits. Deal?"
"Deal."
Ethan followed the man deeper into the scrapyard, weaving between stacks of discarded machinery and half-finished projects. The workbench he was led to was a mess of tangled wires and cracked casings, but it had the essentials: tools, power sources, and enough parts to cobble something together.
He got to work immediately. The first drone core was a disaster—its internal wiring fried and its energy stabilizer warped beyond recognition. But Ethan's hands moved with practiced efficiency, cutting away the damaged components and soldering new connections in their place. His mind buzzed with calculations, every adjustment bringing the core closer to life.
By the time he finished the second core, sweat dripped down his forehead, but satisfaction warmed his chest. Both drones hummed faintly, their power levels stable and ready for use.
The man returned just as Ethan was running diagnostics. He picked up one of the cores, inspecting it with a practiced eye, and gave a low whistle. "You weren't lying. These are solid. Better than I expected."
Ethan leaned back, letting the exhaustion settle in. "Told you."
The man handed over a small device—a credit transfer unit. Ethan tapped it against his wristband, and the interface flashed with confirmation.
[Credits Acquired: +200]
"You're alright, kid," the man said. "Name's Briggs. If you're looking for more work, I might have something bigger for you."
"Bigger?" Ethan asked, his curiosity piqued.
Briggs leaned closer, lowering his voice. "There's a shipment of high-grade parts coming through the south gate tonight. Officially, it's going to the Syndicate, but… unofficially, a lot of people would pay good money to get their hands on it."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "And you want me to what? Hijack it?"
"Not alone," Briggs said with a smirk. "I've got a crew. All we need is someone to bypass the security systems. Think you're up for it?"
The idea was risky, but the promise of high-grade parts was tempting. Ethan's turret was a good start, but if he wanted to take on bigger challenges—and bigger threats—he needed more firepower.
"I'm in," he said.
The grin on Briggs's face was all the confirmation he needed. "Good. Meet us at the south gate at midnight. Don't be late."
Ethan nodded, his mind already racing with plans. This was just the beginning. If he played his cards right, the scrapyard job could be the foothold he needed to climb higher. But one thing was clear: Neo Arcadia-2 wasn't going to hand him anything. If he wanted to survive—and thrive—he'd have to take it.
He glanced up at the distant skyline, where the glowing towers of Neo Arcadia-1 shimmered like a distant dream. Someday, he thought, I'll make it there. But for now, the depths of Neo Arcadia-2 would have to do.
He left the scrapyard with 200 credits in his account, a growing reputation, and the faintest flicker of hope. Midnight couldn't come fast enough.