The transition back to Outpost Rust was just as miserable as the first time, but
at least Sebastian wasn't actively dying of Void Toxicity.
He stood in the center of Corbin's heavily reinforced, lead-lined bunker. The
rogue code-smith's underground lab still smelled like burnt ozone, stale coffee,
and extreme paranoia.
Sebastian was fully healed, his thirty percent physical synchronization resting
comfortably in his bones. He wore a fresh black leather coat he had manifested
from his inventory, completely unbothered by the fact that he was about to
declare war on the multiverse.
Gwen was leaning against a stack of server racks, cleaning one of her heavy
kinetic pistols with an oily rag.
"So," Gwen started, not looking up from the gun barrel. "You walked into
Server 112, murdered the top corporate brass, stole their Regional Core,
collapsed their entire planetary physics engine, and walked out without a
scratch."
