The air reeked of ozone left behind by high-voltage arcs, mixed with the scorched stench of vaporized Withered Lurkers.
The golden giant of light—the Thunder Messenger—had long since withdrawn his berserk power and returned to his standby pose with his arms folded across his chest, as if that world-destroying strike had never happened.
Dragon Fighting in the Wild rubbed his hands together and eagerly approached the Thunder Messenger's feet.
"Bro? Big bro? Sir? Daddy?"
Dragon Fighting in the Wild called out tentatively a few times, even pulling a chunk of high-purity energy crystal from his backpack and offering it over. "With skills like yours, isn't it a waste to just stand here as a streetlamp? Interested in taking on some private work? Money's no object for me. Name your price."
"As long as you're willing to move, I'll reward you handsomely..."
However, the Thunder Messenger did not so much as lift an eyelid.
As the oldest neural defense mechanism within the Titan, he was only responsible for carrying out the tasks of "protecting nodes" and "purging intruders." In his mind, this kinfolk before him was far too weak and lacked the authority to command him.
"Don't waste your breath."
Vanguard Across the Realm snorted derisively amid his busy work. Everyone was currently darting back and forth through Neuron transport routes, moving supplies near the newly placed beacon.
"I'm guessing he's like the Watcher—a system NPC, not a mercenary you can buy off with money. Didn't the Silver Wing Sentinel have both uncommandable units and dedicated mercenaries?"
Dragon Fighting in the Wild sighed regretfully. "What a shame. If we could take him outside, who'd even need Mechas? We could just steamroll everything."
Though they had failed to hire this super bodyguard, the rewards from this expedition were already enough to thrill