Kane jerked awake to a strange sensation of warmth.

  His eyes snapped open, and every muscle in his body tightened like iron in a fraction of a second. His right hand darted toward his waist—only to find it empty, touching nothing but coarse animal hide.

  He bolted upright, his eyes scanning the surroundings with lethal vigilance.

  It was a massive cavern.

  The wounds across his body had been treated, slathered in a green salve that smelled of fresh herbs and wood. The bone-deep aches and exhaustion accumulated from days of travel had inexplicably vanished, replaced by a revitalized strength.

  His tattered rags were gone, replaced by a crude but clean vest made of beast hide.

  On the cavern walls, countless ancient and rugged totems were carved into the stone. The lines were simple, yet they pulsed with a soul-shaking power. Soft, white bioluminescent moss hung from the ceiling, illuminating the space.

  At the entrance, a massive figure blocked out most of the light.

  It was Flint, the young warrior.

  He stood there like a temple guardian, unarmed, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Seeing Kane wake up, the expression on his stony face became exceptionally awkward.

  The murderous hostility from before was gone, replaced by a mixture of apology and a fumbling, clumsy sense of unease.

  Kane ignored him and walked straight out of the grotto.

  The sight before him caused his breath to hitch for a moment.

  The entire tribe wasn't built on the canyon floor; instead, it clung to the gargantuan cliff faces. Countless caves and walkways had been carved into the rock, layered and orderly, forming a natural fortress-city integrated into the mountain itself.

  On a vast stone plateau, tribesmen were busy with their tasks.

  Some were grinding stone tools with giant beast bones, creating a rhythmic sh-sh sound. Women used massive stone mortars to pound a type of blue grain; their movements were heavy with power, each strike sending a faint tremor through the ground.

  There was none of the stagnant, deathly air of the wasteland here. There was only a primitive, flourishing vitality that bordered on the savage.

  "You're awake."

  An aged voice called out.

  Elder Granite approached slowly, leaning on his obsidian staff. He was followed by two Stoneborn women carrying a large stone tray. On it lay a charred, golden-brown hind leg of a giant insect—as thick as Kane's forearm—and a stone bowl filled with a milky-white liquid that gave off a peculiar fragrance.

  Elder Granite pointed to the food, his words plain and unadorned. "You are a benefactor of this tribe. This is our finest food. This is Stone Marrow Elixir. It will restore your strength."

  Kane stared at the bowl of milky liquid, unmoving.

  In the wasteland, no one was kind to you for no reason. Every act of goodwill came with a hidden price tag.

  Elder Granite sensed his suspicion. He didn't push. Instead, he picked up another stone bowl, downed the Stone Marrow Elixir in one go, and then tore off a piece of roasted meat, chewing it heartily.

  A single action spoke louder than a thousand words.

  The surrounding tribesmen—men, women, old and young—looked at Kane with eyes full of the purest gratitude and respect.

  That kind of goodwill, untainted by interest and devoid of even a speck of ulterior motive, felt like countless invisible needles pricking his skin. It caused him an extreme, alien sense of discomfort.

  The muscles across his body tightened even further.

  Ultimately, the gnawing hunger in his gut overrode his caution. He picked up the stone bowl and took a small sip.

  A surge of pure energy instantly slid into his stomach like a warm tide, rapidly flowing through his limbs and bones, dispelling the final trace of exhaustion hidden deep within his body. Even his nerves, frayed from days of tension, experienced a moment of relaxation under the soothing touch of this warm current.

  This stuff... was a treasure.

  Kane suppressed the shock in his heart. Expressionless, he finished the rest of the Stone marrow Elixir and tore off a piece of insect meat, stuffing it mechanically into his mouth.

  "Follow me," Elder Granite said, turning to lead the way once he saw Kane had finished. "You likely want to see Crag’s condition."

  Kane followed in silence.

  Elder Granite brought him to the sanctuary cave at the deepest part of the settlement—the Heart of the Ancestors.

  In the center of the cave lay a massive, naturally formed stone pool. Crag’s gargantuan frame was submerged in a strange, blue pool of water. The Military-Grade Energy Core was now hovering directly above his chest, emitting a soft yet steady glow.

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  Countless visible threads of blue energy flowed from the "heart" like living things, injecting themselves with surgical precision into Crag’s charred chest. The stone skin that had previously carbonized and sloughed off was now healing and regenerating at a staggering speed.

  What made Kane’s pupils contract was the appearance of extremely fine, lava-like golden veins beginning to surface on the newly formed stone skin.

  "The energy in this artificial relic is far more aggressive and pure than the Tinder Crystal we guarded for generations," Elder Granite whispered, staring at Crag in the pool, his voice a mix of irrepressible excitement and worry.

  "It isn't merely healing Crag’s injuries. It is forcibly catalyzing his bloodline, triggering a secondary evolution."

  The old leader’s gaze was incredibly complex.

  "This is a monumental opportunity, but it carries unknown risks. Whether he can endure it depends entirely on his own fate."

  The following day, the atmosphere of the tribe shifted drastically.

  To celebrate "Crag's Rebirth" and to thank Kane, the Stoneborn decided to hold their annual Rock-Fast Festival ahead of schedule.

  As night fell, the entire canyon was illuminated.

  The tribesmen used mineral pigments to paint ancient totems symbolizing strength and protection onto their faces and bodies. A massive bonfire roared on the central stone plateau, its soaring flames casting a crimson glow over everyone’s faces.

  The men stripped off their shirts, revealing rock-hard muscles as they beat upon several gargantuan stone drums, producing a low, rhythmic thrumming that sounded like the very heartbeat of the earth.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Kane was forcibly ushered into the seat of the guest of honor—a chair carved from the massive skull of a giant beast.

  Watching the Stoneborn perform their ancient rituals, he felt like an ant that had wandered into a kingdom of giants.

  Several of the strongest warriors began a contest of strength. They roared as they hoisted multi-ton boulders over their heads, drawing waves of cheers from the crowd.

  Flint, the young warrior from before, easily flipped every opponent in the wrestling matches. After his victory, he didn't flaunt his prowess. Instead, he scratched his head and cast a bashful glance toward Kane, as if apologizing for his earlier recklessness.

  Kane averted his eyes.

  At that moment, a Stoneborn child no more than a few years old, covered in crookedly painted totems, wobbled up to him. The child looked up and extended a small hand, offering a bracelet strung with glowing blue stones.

  Not far away, the child’s mother watched with a smile, her gaze as pure as the snow on a mountain peak.

  Kane looked at those clear eyes, then at the small hand reaching out. He extended his own hand, preparing to reject the offer with his usual coldness.

  But his hand trembled uncontrollably in mid-air.

  Ultimately, he took the bracelet.

  The cold touch against his palm sent a jolt through him.

  "...Don't trust anyone."

  Old Tock's lifeless eyes and the cold, greedy faces of his neighbors flooded back into his mind.

  Kane’s expression instantly hardened, returning to the state of a frozen rock. He loathed this feeling—this goddamn, fragile emotion called "warmth."

  The climax of the festival was the Ancestral Dance.

  The entire tribe surrounded the bonfire, performing a primitive and powerful dance. Their footsteps fell in perfect unison with the stone drums, seemingly causing the entire canyon to resonate. It was a collective, formidable spiritual force that filled him with an inexplicable irritation.

  Flint, his face flushed red, walked over to Kane amidst the jeers and cheers of his kin. With an incredibly stiff gesture, he extended a hand, inviting him to join the dance.

  Kane shook his head expressionlessly.

  But the surrounding Stoneborn gave him no chance to refuse. Several shovel-sized hands hoisted him from his bone throne without a word and dragged him directly into the frenzied crowd.

  He was like a piece of wood out of place, swept up in a massive set of gears, moving clumsily and passively.

  In the chaos, someone tripped Kane. His balance broke, and he tumbled toward the side.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the child who gave him the bracelet running past. He was on a direct collision course.

  In that split second, there was no time to think.

  Instinct moved faster than thought. He forcibly twisted his body in mid-air, slamming his own back against the hard ground.

  Thud!

  He shielded the tiny body, tucking it securely into his embrace.

  The expected crying never came.

  The child in his arms merely blinked curious, wide eyes and reached out a chubby little hand to pat Kane's face.

  The surrounding tribesmen were stunned for a heartbeat before bursting into roars of good-natured laughter—laughter entirely devoid of mockery.

  Kane lay on the cold stone floor, looking up at the vast expanse of stars. He saw the pure, smiling faces illuminated by the bonfire and heard the drumbeats that throbbed like a pulse.

  An alien emotion, one he fought desperately to resist, began to spread silently across the mental fortifications he had built from blood and bone.

  Late at night, the revelry faded.

  Kane sat alone at the entrance of the grotto, the evening breeze carrying a chill. He raised his hand, rubbing the small stone bracelet that emitted a faint blue glow in the darkness.

  He thought of Old Tock. He thought of how he had transformed, step by step, into the man he was today.

  He loathed this emotion called "attachment." It made people soft. It made them unfortunate.

  He applied pressure, intending to rip the bracelet from his wrist.

  But the moment his fingertips brushed the cold, rounded stones, the image of the child’s clear eyes from earlier that day surfaced unbidden in his mind.

  His movements stopped.

  "Fuck."

  Kane cursed under his breath and dropped his hand heavily.

  Just then, the sound of Elder Granite’s footsteps approached from behind. The old leader didn't disturb him; he simply sat down beside him and handed over a roll of beast hide.

  "This is everything we know regarding the Iron Hand Gang."

  Elder Granite’s voice was steady and powerful.

  "Their lair is in Rust-Erosion Canyon to the east. Their leader is called 'Iron Fist' Buck—a ruthless cyborg. We went there once, but their firepower was too intense; we couldn't break through. Actually, it wasn't that we couldn't, but rather that I was unwilling to see my people injured or killed."

  Kane took the hide and unfurled it.

  It contained a crude but clear map drawn with mineral pigments, marking the terrain of Rust-Erosion Canyon and the Iron Hand Gang's primary fire points.

  He listened calmly, but his eyes were darting rapidly.

  The Stoneborn were thick-skinned, possessed incredible strength, and were unafraid of death. What they lacked wasn't courage, but the tactics required to deal with modern firepower.

  His act of saving Crag was like a stone tossed into a lake; unintentionally, it had provided him with a massive lever—one strong enough to upend the entire power structure of this region.

  Old Tock's debt, the Iron Hand Gang's accounts, and Kunlun Corp...

  Countless threads and plans intertwined and calculated within his mind.

  Kane nodded, tucked the map into his vest, and stood up to return to the grotto.

  "Wait."

  Elder Granite called out to him, his murky eyes gleaming in the dark.

  "You saved Crag, and you saved the future of our tribe. We wish to... forge something for you, using our finest materials. What kind of weapon do you require?"

  Kane’s footsteps halted.

  He looked back at the ancient Elder, then glanced down at the blue bracelet on his wrist that he somehow couldn't bring himself to tear off.

  After a long silence, his voice was raspy but clear.

  "I don't want a weapon."

  "I want a suit of... armor... that can cover my entire body."

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