In a corner of the camp, a group of grime-covered men were pacing frantically around a pile of broken Volt-Sniper cannons.
"Dammit! Our lives depend on these hunks of iron, and they choose now to strike! ...GAH! That current just numbed my entire arm! Rickman, help us out here!"
Rickman strode over, squinting at a cannon that looked ready to explode. His brow furrowed into a knot. "Hell! I only know how to use these things to blow off monster heads. These precision internals look like ancient hieroglyphs to me!"
"Then what do we do?" his companion asked, sweating. "If those monsters come back now, are we supposed to fight them with our bare fists?"
Just as despair began to spread like a plague, a pair of slender, steady hands took hold of the sniper cannon. Lawson's gaze was sharp as he traced the cold barrel. "It's nothing major. High-intensity fire caused a capacitor core overload, leading to a mana-embolism. I just need to clear the core node."
As the words left his lips, the {Spatial Smart Band} on his wrist erupted in a flash of brilliance.
"WHIRRR—!"
A high-tier engineering kit, smart-detection goggles, and liquid-exoskeleton mechanical arms were "summoned" instantly. With the rhythmic clanking of interlocking gears, the top-tier smithing gear armored Lawson in seconds. He adjusted his glowing goggles, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable, arrogant weight:
"Armor is my specialty, but in the eyes of an SSS-Rank Armor Smith—Everything can be reconstructed."
On that makeshift, rickety workbench, Lawson performed a visual feast of "rebirth." Disassemble, calibrate, reassemble—his movements were fluid, moving so fast they left afterimages. What should have been crude repair work became an elegant symphony of the fingertips. Within moments, the sniper cannon hummed with a low vibration. Not only was the fault gone, but a chilling, lethal sharpness now radiated from its surface.
The onlookers held their breath, then erupted into thunderous applause.
"This... this is a masterpiece! Is this the style of an SSS-Rank? So cool!"
The children from earlier were drawn in like magnets, surrounding Lawson with eyes full of worship. "Big brother! You're an Armor Smith, can you make us those warm coats now?"
"Haha!" Lawson laughed at their innocence. "I play with cold iron, kids. Making clothes is a tailor's job. Sorry about that."
Seeing the children pout, tears welling in their eyes, Rickman stepped in with a "divine assist."
"Alright, alright! Don't trouble the big brother. Once those armored heroes liberate this place, I'll find the best tailor in the ruins to make you each a beautiful winter coat! Now, don't distract him from saving the world. Go play!"
As the children ran off giggling, Lawson adjusted his exoskeleton. "Thanks, Uncle. Since I've already started, I might as well tune up everyone's gear."
Before the crowd could even process the technical feast they'd just witnessed, Rickman was already clapping his hands, switching into loud-mouthed promotion mode:
"Listen up, everyone! This is an SSS-Rank Master you couldn't hire even if you begged! Bring out all your broken iron and limping gear right now! Don't miss this chance! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"
The ensuing silence lasted only a heartbeat before a tsunami of cheers broke out. The survivors looked at Lawson differently now—not as a refugee, but as a descending god. They carefully brought forward their damaged equipment, handling it as if it were fragile art.
"The SSS-Rank doing it personally... I can die happy now," someone whispered, reverently placing a fractured weapon on the table.
Soon, a mountain of metallic parts shimmered on the workbench. Facing this daunting pile of work, Lawson didn't flinch. Instead, a confident curve tugged at his mouth. His fingers tapped the air, blue data waves flowing across his goggles as the mechanical arms hissed with rhythmic precision.
He stood steady amidst the cold glint of the metal forest. This small circle of ground was now his Absolute Domain.
"Now... let the Reconstruction begin!"
A while later, Lawson tightened the final screw with a crisp click. He let out a long breath, pulling off his sweat-drenched goggles and collapsing into a wooden chair. The exoskeleton hissed as it depressurized, retracting into his {Spatial Smart Band}.
Across the camp, Rickman was leading the men—each now armed with "New Teeth"—as they checked their gleaming cannons with newfound spirit.
"Lads, grab your gear! It's time to go out and reap some resources!"
With a heroic sweep of Rickman's arm, the men's eyes burned with the fire of rebirth. With the heavy roar of an engine, they leaped onto Rickman's iconic private freighter. Amidst a cloud of rising dust, the steel beast sped toward the horizon, fueled by unyielding morale.
The camp fell silent, leaving only a dozen guards on high alert. Lawson wiped the sweat from his brow and instinctively reached for his phone.
Just now, he had felt a sharp, rhythmic vibration in his pocket. It was the notification sound of the Mission System—and the frequency was unnervingly high.
He swiped open the screen; the task bar was blinking frantically.
As he tapped the icon, Lawson was momentarily stunned. Without even realizing it, he had triggered and completed a hidden mission:
[TYPE: ARMOR SMITH EXCLUSIVE HIDDEN MISSION]
[Objective: The Armor Smith's Impartialitiy — Perform free equipment maintenance for non-linked personnel (1/1)]
Rewards Granted:
[Armor Smith Exclusive Secret Skill: Zero Armor Zone of The Armor God]
[Armor Smith Exclusive Secret Skill: Steel Instinct of the Armor God]
"New skills already? This system is as unpredictable as ever." Lawson muttered, though a smirk played on his lips.
Lawson took a deep breath, calming his racing heart, and tapped his finger on the [SECRET SKILL LIST] to view the details:
[SECRET SKILL: ZERO ARMOR ZONE OF THE ARMOR GOD]
[Effect: Upon activation, the Armor Smith releases an oscillatory pulse unique to the Armor God , creating a field of absolute suppression. Within this zone, all weapons, armor plates, and mechanical devices of any incoming enemy will be forcibly deconstructed, plunging them into an unarmed state.]
[Limitation: Power is immense and consumption is severe. Limited to once per day.]
"Force Unarmed? This is practically a 'cheat code' on the battlefield!" Lawson's initial joy was quickly followed by a pained grimace. "Too bad I can only pull this stunt once a day. Guess it's my ultimate trump card."
"Then, the next one is..."
Lawson looked at the following line:
[SECRET SKILL: STEEL INSTINCT OF THE ARMOR GOD]
[Effect: Grants the user ultimate perception of metallic elements. Metallic ore veins, lost parts, composite alloys, and even metal armaments related to Shadow Shifters within a thousand-meter radius will be marked in the user's vision as a transparent overlay, accompanied by detailed material analysis.]
[Note: Automatically activates under certain conditions. Please ensure a high mental resilience.]
The moment Lawson read the description, his breath hitched. His palm tightened in a sudden surge of speechless fury, his knuckles turning a ghostly, deformed white as if he were about to crush the phone into scrap metal.
"This is... a. TOTAL. GARBAGE. SKILL!"
He let out a laugh of pure exasperation, roaring at the empty camp:
"Are you kidding me, System?! What's the point of sensing metal? I'm not some 'Isekai Miner'! Do you want me to spend my days swinging a pickaxe in the ruins, digging for scrap metal?!"
Fuming, Lawson slammed the panel shut. To him, giving an Armor Smith a "Treasure Radar" instead of an attack buff was the definition of a professional mismatch.
"Wait, this is..."
The indignation on Lawson's face was suddenly replaced by a look of sheer terror.