Ballister sat hunched over his workstation, the dim lantern light casting shadows across the scattered metal scraps. His breath was steady, but his hand trembled as he adjusted the final wire.

The new arm wasn’t perfect, rough around the edges, unfinished, but it was his.

With a deep breath, he secured it in place. A sharp jolt of pain shot through him, but he clenched his jaw and flexed his fingers. The metal moved, stiff but functional.

Ballister exhaled, exhaustion settling in. He was alone, but as he stared at his work, a spark of defiance burned in his chest.

"Haa.. at least I got some sort of an arm."

They had taken everything. But not this.