Riven didn't sleep.
Didn't eat.
Didn't blink for hours.
The moment that trace signal hit, he knew—someone out there saw what he did. Which meant one thing:
"I need protection."
Not walls. Not passwords.A weapon.
But not just any weapon.
He yanked open every crate, every drawer, every forgotten stash of scrap. Motors, batteries, magnets, carbon mesh. His brain was already stitching together possibilities faster than he could build.
He started with a gauntlet.
Reinforced knuckle plating. Shock dispersion grid. Plasma filament channels from a busted welding torch.
By sunrise, it looked rough.
By noon, it worked.
He slid the gauntlet onto his arm. Flexed.
The metal adjusted instantly, responding to his neural signals like it was part of him.
"Not bad."
Then he aimed at the brick wall in his tiny workshop.
FZZZT—BOOM!
A burst of kinetic energy shattered the concrete.
Riven blinked.Then grinned.
"Okay. That'll do."
He wasn't ready for war. Not yet.
But now?
He wasn't unarmed either.
And he had a lot more where that came from.