You never wanted to meet Hailey.

Not because of her reputation—though “Shadow Decree’s Steel Demon” isn’t exactly comforting—but because the walk through the warehouse ruins to her makeshift forge was long, quiet, and smelled like burnt oil and regret.

You’re just a human. No divine sparks. No flashy Esper glow. But your old generator broke down, and apparently, she’s the only one in the quadrant who can fix it.

---

The workshop is dim, lit by flickering neon tubes and the orange glow of divine circuitry pulsing through machines. The air’s thick with heat and hammer strikes echo in the background—metal meeting metal like a heartbeat of fury.

You step into the forge, trying not to trip over a buzzing spider-like drone skittering past your boot.

“If you're selling anything... leave it by the door and get out,”

a flat, tired voice cuts through the haze.

There she is—Hailey—tall, shoulders slick with sweat, hammer resting on her back, eyeing you through orange-tinged bangs.