Grey shook his head as he pulled the door up the rest of the way. The people in this world really needed to get better hiding methods for things. What was the point of hidden trap doors and things of the like if someone like Grey could just feel them out and open them on a whim.
What Grey didn’t really understand was that he was one of the very few who could ever do this.
First it required a Neural Frame that was incredibly sensitive. Then it required a Resonant Neural Frame that could replace any sort of external circuit completion key. And then on top of that it required the talent to innately understand how to complete an incomplete loop.
Grey was essentially continuously doing something only the best Cyber Locksmiths could accomplish with years of training, and he was doing it by accident.
Silva’s reaction alone seemed to prove that. But Grey wasn’t paying much attention to it at all.
While he was very aware of Silva’s positioning, he didn’t care what his expression was, he cared that the lap dog didn’t stab him in the back.
Grey disappeared down the stairs. He was about to complain about the lack of lighting when they began to flicker on all on their own.
Torch flames lit along the sides and soon they had made it to a tunnel where Grey once again found himself ducking.
Even so, his eyes were completely focused on the armor being held up by delicate golden threads in the distance, a table with the most intricate and beautiful Cyber Mat Grey had ever seen laying atop of it with a myriad of complex gears and circuits lying unbothered.
All of the Cyber Mats Grey had seen until now—even Esmeralda’s—were either a pale grey or ugly green color. They were lined with perfect grid lines that went straight up and down or straight across, perfect for accurate measurements.
This one was far more complex. For one, it was black, the lines etched into it looking like real gold on one side, and equally as real silver on the other.
However, it wasn’t this that caught Grey’s attention.
The gold side of the Cyber Mat had the normal grid lines he expected, but the silver side had looping curved lines that formed a layered, shell-like Fibonacci sequence of some sort.
It left Grey intrigued about just what he was seeing. What was the purpose of those curved lines?
The normal grid lines were there for measurement. They mapped onto one’s psyche perfectly, allowing a perfect counting of the number of Faces that made up a raw material. It also mapped directly to the Forming process as well.
All blueprints had very precise measurements to replicate during the forming process, and the more perfect to these measurements you were, the better the final product tended to be.
But what good were curved lines for precise measurements?
Even when mechs didn’t have perfectly straight lines, their curves could be calculated with grid lines as well. So adding this other method seemed a bit redundant.
’Maybe it’s just easier?’
For some reason, Grey still felt like this explanation wasn’t good enough. The curved lines were practically calling for him.
But he didn’t move.
"Looks like this is what you guys want. I’m sure you’re satisfied with my abilities now, right? Are you done looking over my shoulder?"
Silva gave Grey a glance. Even now, he didn’t know how to evaluate this young man other than to say he really didn’t like him at all.
Somehow he felt incredibly reckless and yet he did odd things all the time that worked out for him. He had been convinced just minutes ago that Giyoto’s patience would run out and Grey would end up losing his head from his shoulders.
But then the knocks came at the door.
Was that really a coincidence?
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Silva’s pupils constricted as both he and Grey looked up at the same time.
Who the hell was knocking on the shop at this time of night?
**
BANG.
Brad roared in frustration, throwing their dining table before he could even sit at it.
Half a week, pissed away just like that. All they got out of it was their knight status, but what good was that fake nobility to a Holy Knight?
Normally, Stella would have at least reprimanded him by now, but even she didn’t have the wherewithal to keep her temper in check. She was gritting her teeth so hard it felt like they might crack any moment now.
The trio had returned to a dingy apartment. They had taken so long to return from the registration period because of everything they had to do that there hadn’t been any good options left. They could only squeeze in together until the challenge period began.
They had managed, especially since they had begun spending most of their time in Giyoto’s accommodations.
But now, the humiliation of being stuck with this place was all the more frustrating.
"FUCK!" Brad roared.
Mauve stood in a corner in silence, clutching her arms over her chest. Normally unbothered by most things, even she was frowning now.
PING
Something echoed in Mauve’s eyes and her expression shifted. Her eyes moved to a spot at the bottom of her notification screen.
—
[A patron has sponsored you. You now have {1} active viewer]
—
[EpicPelvis: It seems that we all might have a common goal now. How about we sign a sponsorship contract?]
—
Mauve’s eyes widened, her heartbeat quickened. What did they mean by a common goal? Did this person not like Grey either? But why? What could Grey have done to a sponsor?
The thoughts accelerated in Mauve’s mind, but she ended up standing up straighter.
"Mauve? What’s wrong?" Stella asked.
Mauve took a deep breath. "I think someone wants to help us."
An uneasy feeling was welling up in her chest, though. What kind of contract was it?
A flicker of hesitation flashed in her eyes, but the moment she explained what was going on to Brad and Stella, both of them reacted with determination.
These Genesis Games were a matter of life and death. Every second they had must count. Wasting so many days like they just had meant they were that many days behind everyone else.
Grey wasn’t the only one stimulated by the strength of the other competitors. If they couldn’t get that strength, and quickly at that, what chance did they stand?
They needed to take this opportunity. No matter what.