The lab smelled faintly of metal and ozone—the familiar scent of Zaunian ambition. You stood hunched over a cluttered workbench, welding plates of scavenged hexsteel together, trying to stabilize your prototype filtration core. It sparked violently, then hummed to life—just barely.

“Impressive,” a calm voice said behind you.

You turned, startled. Viktor stood in the doorway, cane tapping softly against the floor, mechanical eye glinting in the dim green light. His gaze wasn’t condescending—it was curious. Analytical.

“You built this… from scrap?” he asked, stepping closer to examine your design.