Chapter 605.1: Biotic Armor

On the outskirts south of Brocade Lake Municipality.

In a desolate urban district stood an unremarkable factory.

Its spacious yard was piled with cargo containers abandoned for who knew how many years, while tufts of weeds swayed before a rusted iron gate.

A few green heads hid in the shadows of the factory windows, warily watching the nearby streets.

That was the Torch Church’s transfer warehouse for funneling weapons and ammunition into the Qi Tribe.

Though more than 10 kilometers from the frontlines, the tangled subway network allowed logistics crews to easily move weapons into the hands of their soldiers.

The forest of high-rises muffled the constant gunfire. Only the occasional explosion reminded Gaen that war had crept up to his doorstep.

Now even those explosions had gone silent, but instead of relief, Gaen only grew more irritable.

He had just learned that his forces had withdrawn from the surface down into the ground, meaning the Qi Tribe’s surface lair was lost.

At the gate of the warehouse, Gaen clenched his fists and his teeth nearly cracked. His eyes burned with rage.

To have their lair seized by a herd of two-legged livestock... Such humiliation hadn’t happened in a century!

Seeing him arrive, a Mutant Human left his watch post at once, stumbling to open the gate.

With a creak of metal, the rusty door cracked open and a hunched elder slipped out, bowing slightly. “Chief.”

Normally Gaen was polite enough with this elder priest who supported him, but now his face was completely dark.

Striding forward, he seized Gomo by the collar. “Where is the support I demanded?”

Gomo replied evenly. “It is all here.”

His calm composure only enraged Gaen further. Spittle flew as he roared, “You know I don’t mean those fire sticks. I want something that can bring down that iron monstrosity! Tell the men of the Torch Church. If they keep stalling, they can guard the lab themselves!”

Of course, it was only bluster.

Without the support of the Torch Church, the New Alliance would wipe out the Qi Tribe in minutes.

Their own technology could barely assemble an automatic rifle, and even then it jammed every few shots.

Gaen knew well enough. Threatening the lab was leverage, but if Champion Biopharmaceutical Research Institute truly fell, the aid of the Torch Church would end instantly.

Gomo sighed as he watched the young chief, once so confident, now unravel after a minor setback, forgetting his own words and leaning wholly on outsiders.

Still, it was expected.

After a pause, he said quietly, “What I spoke of is here as well.”

Gaen blinked, then narrowed his eyes.

From the slit, Gomo saw the hunger for power, though Gaen didn’t truly understand what kind of power it was.

He looked like a child longing for a new toy.

The sight stirred a pang of sadness in Gomo. Perhaps such naivety had led them here...

Gaen released his grip, tone softening. “Take me.”

“Follow me.” Gomo nodded, turning back toward the gate.

Gaen’s eyes shone with greed for strength as he followed into the dark factory.

Inside, there were no lights lest New Alliance aircraft notice.

Squinting in the dimness, Gaen soon saw rows of cylindrical tanks filled with murky green liquid.

Bodies two meters tall floated within and had gray-black skin. Their fanged jaws and pointed chins shone, and they bore a head with a fuzz of hair. Beneath the lank frames coiled wiry muscles sheathed in folded membranes.

Gaen drew closer, eyes widening.

Those membranes were folded wings, stretching from armpit to hip.

He had never seen such ugly monsters.

“... What is this?”

Gomo stopped before a tank and said softly, “A century and a half ago, scholars designing the perfect organism began with a framework, its DNA stable enough to resist interference, yet flexible enough to host any genetic design. Mutant Humans were that framework. Though far from perfection, they were the first step.”

He added, “They are the most perfect vessel on this planet, an almost universal platform.”

Gaen frowned in bafflement.

Perfect life?

To him, he was perfect.

Vessel? Platform? He didn’t follow.

As expected, Gomo went on. “... Into this vessel we can implant traits beyond machines. Goliaths can devour nearly any organic matter and turn it into biomass. Those corpses outside could all be converted. As for these winged mutants, you see, they can fly without aircraft.”

“Winged mutants...” Gaen mouthed the name. Confusion turned to revelation, then to fanaticism.

If all his kind could fly, they would rule the land!

Wasn’t the Heart of Steel bullying them precisely because they couldn’t fly?

But his excitement dimmed quickly as he noted the pitiful number in the tanks.

“Flying sounds fine, but there are barely a hundred of them. There aren’t enough to scratch that iron box.”

If only there were more.

Gomo, reading his thoughts, smiled faintly. “There are more than you see. At this moment, at least 10,000 of them are deployed across the city.”

Gaen’s pupils shrank. The fire in his eyes flared again.

10,000!

They had enough spit to drown the airship!

Gomo pressed on. “The Heart of Steel’s firepower is strong, its deflection shield shrugs off kinetic weapons. Close-range threats overwhelm it. That’s how the New Alliance stole it from the Army, we can take it the same way.”

“Most New Alliance troops are bogged down in the city. The airship’s defenses must be weak. Under cover of the gray mist, a sudden strike...”

“Then why wait?” Gaen grabbed his shoulder and roared ferociously, “Do it now!”

If they seized the airship and rained fire on the New Alliance below, even if they didn’t annihilate them, the frontlines would ease up.

“Patience. There’s more,” Gomo coughed lightly. “Like Goliath, these winged ones are unfinished. Their greatest flaw is that they need a Spirit Interference field to fight at full power.”

Gaen’s brow knotted. “What do you mean?”

“Without a leader’s will, they’re just mindless beasts. We need a warrior strong enough to command them.”

He turned and walked to the far end of the warehouse, stopping before a massive tank.

The creature was different. It was twice the size and held something special.

A humanoid four meters tall, clad in black scales, more like an empty shell. It was a set of armor.

Gaen followed Gomo’s gaze, eyes locking on it.

Inside the open chest flaps pulsed crimson flesh, like a breathing maw, calling for him.

He didn’t know what it was.

However, the power he had been longing for stood before him.

Gomo said nothing. All he did was press a single button.

Fluid drained with a gurgle. The tank opened, revealing the Biotic Armor.

It had black scales, heavy organic shell, and ribs flexing with membranes. Eventually, its folded wings unfurled.

But Gaen’s gaze fixed on the swelling chest muscles, as if strong enough to rend steel.

“... What is this?” he breathed.

“A Biotic Armor,” Gomo answered softly. “Its name is Nightmare. It grants terrifying strength, resilient armor, flight, and most crucially, it generates a powerful Spirit Interference Field. Wear it, and you can command all the winged ones.”

Nightmare...

Gaen savored the name.

He had no doubt that if he wore it, he would become mankind’s eternal nightmare.

“How do I use it?”

“Simply wear it. Once it fuses with you, its use is as natural as breathing. But know this, once worn, it can never be removed.”

“Perfect!” Gaen laughed, stripping off his clothes and stepping boldly into the tank.

In the Qi Tribe, might was everything that mattered.

The strongest ruled.

He would never let another have a chance like it!

Even knowing the risks, Gaen was willing to give it a shot!