The top of the signal tower.

  Kane stood there, overlooking the decaying Metal Graveyard beneath him.

  The wind swept past, causing his trouser legs to flutter slightly.

  But his own legs remained motionless, as if they had taken root in the summit of the tower.

  The Predator had completed its initial synchronization with his nerves.

  That foreign, yet incomparably powerful sensation of strength was flowing slowly through his body.

  He looked down at his legs.

  To the naked eye, they appeared no different from those of an ordinary human.

  But he could clearly feel it beneath the skin—that silvery sinew from the Phase-Rat King was letting out a faint, rhythmic pulse in time with his heartbeat.

  It was breathing.

  It was waiting.

  Waiting for the next eruption.

  Kane took a deep breath and leaped, plunging from the thirty-meter-high tower.

  The wind shrieked in his ears.

  The ground enlarged at a terrifying speed.

  Just before impact, his mind flickered.

  The Predator automatically adjusted its posture, knees slightly flexing to absorb the entirety of the kinetic shock.

  Thud—

  A heavy, muffled sound.

  The ground was stomped into two deep craters, spiderweb cracks spreading outward as gravel sprayed into the air.

  Kane landed steadily.

  His knees hadn't even buckled.

  Crag stood not far away, watching the scene. His stony face rarely betrayed such a look of shock.

  He had seen many strong men.

  But he had never seen anyone perform a "landing" with such effortless nonchalance.

  Gravity seemed to have lost its meaning before this lean young man.

  "Kid," Crag spoke, his booming voice carrying a newfound gravity. "Your legs... they are different."

  Kane didn't answer. He simply began walking toward the trash compaction station.

  Every step was light.

  Yet each one contained a suppressed, explosive power ready to trigger at a moment's notice.

  Kyrie was already waiting at the workshop entrance.

  He dangled a cigarette that had nearly burned down to the filter, his eyes fixed on Kane’s legs like a craftsman staring at a masterpiece nearing its final calibration.

  "You're back?"

  Kyrie exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, a morbid excitement flickering in his eyes.

  "How does it feel?"

  Kane stopped in front of him.

  "Strong."

  He paused for a beat.

  "But not stable enough."

  Kyrie grinned, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth.

  "No shit. You think this is some street-tier scrap? You think you can just bolt it on and go?"

  He flicked away the cigarette butt and snatched a palm-sized metal instrument from the workbench, tossing it to Kane.

  "Catch."

  Kane caught it and looked down.

  It was a data logger, its surface covered in dense sensor interfaces and real-time energy curves that fluctuated wildly.

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  "This thing monitors your neural load, energy output, and bio-electric response."

  Kyrie pointed toward the open clearing outside the workshop, his eyes burning with a creator’s unique fanaticism.

  "Go out there. Run a full circuit of tests for me."

  "Jumps, sudden stops, changes in direction—do it as fast as you possibly can."

  He licked his lips.

  "I want to see... exactly how long your nerves can hold out."

  Kane didn't waste words; he turned and headed toward the clearing.

  Crag started to follow, but Kyrie blocked him.

  "Not you. Too heavy. You'll mess up the data."

  Crag hesitated for a moment before coming to a halt. He simply kept his stony eyes fixed firmly on Kane’s back.

  The clearing.

  Kane stood in the center of an "obstacle field" composed of derelict steel frames and collapsed buildings.

  He secured the data logger to his waist and activated it.

  The light-screen on the device’s surface ignited instantly, and countless data streams began to flicker frantically.

  Kyrie’s voice crackled through the communicator, thick with anticipation.

  "Start. Don't dawdle."

  Kane bent his knees slightly.

  The next second.

  BOOM—!

  The ground erupted into a spiderweb of deep craters. Scree sprayed in all directions as a plume of dust shot into the sky.

  Kane’s silhouette launched upward like a cannonball.

  Ten meters.

  Twenty meters.

  Thirty meters.

  The moment he reached the apex of his ascent, he triggered [ Aerial Step ].

  BANG!

  The air was trampled, letting out a heavy, muffled explosion.

  A visible ripple of air radiated outward, kicking up a white shockwave.

  His body pulled a jagged, unnatural angle in mid-air, shooting like a bolt toward a steel girder fifty meters away.

  The speed was staggering.

  The scenery on either side blurred into streaks of color as the gale howled in his ears.

  Kane landed atop the girder, dropping to one knee to steady his frame.

  Creeak—

  The top of the steel frame buckled under the impact, the metal letting out an overburdened groan.

  He didn't pause.

  He leaped again.

  This time, he used [ Aerial Step ] three times in rapid succession, leaping frantically between girders, ruins, and collapsed structures.

  He became a bolt of black lightning, weaving a trail of afterimages across the clearing.

  Three seconds.

  He had covered two hundred meters.

  In the distance, Kyrie stared at the data terminal, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

  "Damn... that speed..."

  He muttered to himself, his voice overflowing with manic excitement.

  "This is art! This is a perfect creation!"

  But the moment Kane made his third landing—

  Sss—!

  A searing, burning agony suddenly exploded from the nerves in Kane's thighs!

  That pain wasn't a muscle tear.

  It wasn't a broken bone.

  It was the bone-deep sting of nerves being scorched by high-intensity bio-electricity.

  It felt as if someone were taking a red-hot iron wire and churning it back and forth inside his spine.

  Kane’s body stumbled, nearly collapsing.

  He slammed one hand against the ground to steady himself.

  Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

  The index and middle fingers of his right hand began to twitch with uncontrollable spasms.

  "STOP!!"

  Kyrie’s roar erupted from the communicator.

  "Stop right now! Your neural load has blown past the red line!!"

  Kane breathed heavily, looking down at his legs.

  Beneath the matte black shell of The Predator, faint blue electric arcs could be seen flickering frantically.

  The King's Sinew was pulsating at a near-violent frequency.

  It wanted to keep going.

  But Kane’s nerves could no longer keep up.

  He stood up, sensing a strange dissonance radiating from his legs. It wasn't exactly pain; it was a profound "lack of coordination."

  He intended to move left, and his legs had already moved.

  He intended to stop, yet his legs continued forward.

  This sensation of "body moving faster than the brain" was intensely unsettling.

  Kyrie came charging out of the workshop, clutching the receiver for the data logger. He stared at the jagged, jumping curves on the screen, his expression more somber than it had ever been.

  "Your neural conduction speed can't keep up with the bio-electric reaction of the King's Sinew."

  He looked up, pinning his gaze on Kane.

  "Do you have any idea what that means?"

  Kane remained silent.

  Kyrie continued.

  "It means you're currently 'driving a supercar with a human brain.'"

  "Your brain sends a command, and it takes 0.1 seconds to reach the nerves in your legs."

  "But the reaction speed of the King's Sinew is only 0.01 seconds."

  "That time gap causes 'latency' and a 'loss of control' in your movements."

  He paused, his voice turning even colder.

  "If you keep using them like this..."

  "Your spinal nerves will be scorched into charcoal."

  Kane was silent for a moment.

  "Is there a fix?"

  Kyrie let out a cold snort.

  "Two. First, swap it for a standard mechanical tendon and give up the explosive power of the King's Sinew."

  "Second, evolve your nerves to adapt to its speed."

  Kane looked up, his eyes terrifyingly calm.

  "The second option—how long?"

  Kyrie fished out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

  "At least three months of neural adaptation training. But that's a theoretical value."

  "In reality, there's only one fastest way."

  He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, a flash of madness in his eyes.

  "Live combat."

  "On the edge of life and death, your nerves will be forced to evolve."

  "Either you adapt..."

  "Or you die."

  Kane did not hesitate.

  "Then live combat it is."

  Crag, standing nearby, heard this and a rare look of worry appeared on his stony face. He remained silent for several seconds before taking a heavy step toward Kane.

  "Kid," Crag rumbled. "I'll be your sparring partner. Use me to practice."

  Kane turned to look at him.

  Crag slapped his chest, producing a dull, thumping sound.

  "My skin is thick. You won't kill me."

  Kane stared into Crag’s sincere eyes for a brief moment. Finally, he shook his head.

  "No."

  "Your speed can't keep up. What I need is an opponent who can push me to my absolute limit."

  Crag opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately closed it. He simply stood by Kane’s side, watching him with those rock-like eyes.

  In that gaze, there was worry—and a silent, steady vow to protect.

  Kyrie looked at Kane, then at Crag. Finally, he shook his head.

  "Madmen. Both of you are madmen."

  He turned and walked back into the workshop, his silhouette vanishing into the shadows.

  Kane stood there, looking down at his legs. The blue electric arcs on the surface of The Predator had gradually settled.

  But he knew. This was only a temporary peace.

  The next eruption would be even more violent.

  He looked up, gazing at the distant, blurred silhouette of the city that resembled the spine of a great beast.

  Kunlun Corp.

  Wait for me.

  I'll use these legs to trample everything you own.

  Even if... the price is burning out my very nerves.

  Thanks for reading!

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