The days at Sub-Station Epsilon settled into a routine of fortification and quiet vigilance. Kai's leg wound was healing at an accelerated pace, the System noting [Physical Trauma Recovery: 85%. Minor mobility impairment remains.]. His Anima Core Stability, after the grim necessity in the sublevels, had returned to a more comfortable 90%, though the System's subtle prompts about "optimal Anima enrichment" from "higher-tier sustenance" were a constant, unsettling whisper. He'd diligently completed his Daily Quests – "Advanced Anima Concealment Drills," "Urban Terrain Analysis (Epsilon Sector)," "Basic First Aid Refresher (Self)" – accumulating EXP slowly. He was still Level 3, his 8 attribute points and 1 skill point held in reserve, a small hoard of potential he was reluctant to spend without a clear purpose.
Despite the relative calm, a restless energy thrummed within Kai. The attack by the professional intruders had been a brutal wake-up call. He had survived, yes, but barely. His D-Grade Anima, even with its draconic potency, had been pushed to its absolute limit. He'd seen Breaker, also a D-Grade MOD, absorb incredible punishment but also take significant damage. Shift and Zip, with their specialized D-Grade Animas, were invaluable for support and recon but weren't front-line fighters. If those intruders had been even slightly more numerous, or if they'd possessed potent Animas of their own, The Crimson Coil would have been extinguished before it truly began.
He was the Leader, the "fist" as Roric put it. But his fist wasn't nearly strong enough. The thought of facing another team like that, or worse, the shadowy organization that had sent them, filled him with a cold dread. He needed to get stronger, much stronger, and fast. The slow accumulation of EXP from Daily Quests and the occasional System-guided "Anima control" exercise wasn't going to cut it. He needed real combat, real challenges, a way to push his Anima, to force its evolution, and, though the thought still made him sick, a more reliable way to meet its "sustenance" requirements without waiting for a life-or-death crisis.
One evening, as Roric was reviewing city-wide data feeds in the Epsilon control room – a new, high-resolution holographic projector now dominated one wall – Kai approached him. "Roric," Kai began, his voice quiet but firm. "We need to talk about my… development."
Roric looked up, his sharp eyes analytical. "Your recovery is proceeding ahead of schedule. Your control over the Dermal Plating seems more refined. The System you mentioned… is it indicating new pathways?" He was still fishing for information about Kai's internal processes, but Kai sidestepped it.
"The last attack showed me I'm not strong enough," Kai stated bluntly. "My Anima, it's powerful, but it's raw. Untrained. And its… needs… are a liability if I can't control the circumstances of fulfilling them." He chose his words carefully. "Waiting for trouble to find us isn't a strategy for growth. I need to be proactive."
"Proactive how?" Roric asked, leaning back, intrigued.
"The lesser crews, the street gangs that prey on the weak in the outer blocks of District 7," Kai said. "The Rust Phantoms were disorganized, but there are dozens of similar groups. They're a blight. They often have small stashes of credits, tech, sometimes even black-market Anima boosters or low-grade shards that could be… useful." He was thinking of the System's note about Anima Shards being used for evolution. "If I engage them, I get combat experience. I push my Anima. I can… stabilize its requirements more regularly. And The Crimson Coil benefits from any resources acquired and the disruption of potential rivals."
Roric was silent for a moment, his gaze unblinking. "You're proposing unsanctioned vigilantism, Kai? Becoming a solo predator amongst the jackals?"
"Not exactly solo," Kai countered. "And not just random predation. Targeted engagements. But I can't do it as Kai, the leader of The Crimson Coil. Not yet. If word got out that our leader was personally brawling with every minor street gang, it would undermine the image of calculated strength we're trying to build. It could draw the wrong kind of attention before we're ready – from Apex, or from whoever sent those professionals."
He took a breath. "I need a way to operate anonymously. A disguise. A mask."
Roric's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. This, Kai realized, was something Roric hadn't anticipated, a proactive step from his "fist" that went beyond simply following strategic directives. "A mask," Roric mused. "To allow the dragon to hunt without revealing its face. An interesting proposition. It would allow you to gain practical experience, test your limits, and potentially acquire resources and… 'sustenance'… without directly implicating The Crimson Coil in low-level street violence. It could even build a different kind of legend in the undercity – a mysterious, powerful figure striking from the shadows. Such a legend could be useful."
The System pinged: [New Conduit-Initiated Objective Proposal: 'Shadow Hunt Protocol' – Engage low-tier hostile Factions for EXP, Anima Development, and Resource Acquisition under a concealed identity.][Risk Assessment: Moderate (Potential for identity compromise, escalating conflict with targeted Factions, Anima instability from frequent engagements).] [Potential Rewards: Accelerated EXP gain, Anima evolution progress, resource acquisition, practical combat skill development, fulfillment of Sustenance requirements.] [System Recommendation: Proceed with caution. Identity concealment protocols are paramount.]
"A mask isn't just about hiding your face, Kai," Roric said, standing up and walking towards a reinforced storage locker. "It's about creating a persona. If you're going to do this, it needs to be done with the same level of thought we apply to all our operations." He opened the locker, revealing several neatly organized cases of specialized gear. From one, he withdrew a sleek, black mask.
It wasn't a simple cloth or plasteel construct. It was clearly advanced tech, form-fitting, covering the lower half of Kai's face up to the bridge of his nose, leaving his eyes exposed but shadowed. The material was a matte, non-reflective polymer, likely with some ballistic properties. It had a built-in voice modulator. "This was part of a… previous acquisition," Roric said smoothly. "Voice modulation, basic optic filtering for glare, and it's untraceable. Combined with a non-descript hooded cloak or jacket, different from your Coil attire, it should provide sufficient anonymity for your… extracurricular activities."
He handed it to Kai. It was cool to the touch, surprisingly light. "You understand the risks," Roric stated, his eyes serious. "If your identity is compromised while engaging in these 'hunts,' it could bring disaster down on all of us. And if your Anima destabilizes in the field, alone…"
"I understand," Kai said, his fingers closing around the mask. "But I also understand that sitting here, waiting for my power to magically refine itself, isn't an option. Not if we're serious about your ambitions. Not if I want to protect what matters to me."
Roric nodded slowly. "Very well. The dragon needs to sharpen its claws. Consider this 'Shadow Hunt Protocol' authorized, under your discretion. But report your activities. And your acquisitions. The Coil still benefits from its leader's… initiative."
Kai looked at the mask in his hand. It felt like a key, unlocking a dangerous new chapter. He would walk two lives now: Kai, the reluctant leader of The Crimson Coil, building a future in the light, however dim. And this new persona, a masked hunter in the shadows, feeding his power, preparing for the real wars to come.