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Five days had passed since the botched heist, and the pressure was mounting. Across the slums of Galvaris Prime, the hunt for Sol had turned into a full-scale manhunt.The Vultures ruled their districts with an iron fist. Their grip on the slums was unshakable, their influence spreading through a vast network of informants, street thugs, and corrupt enforcers. Every black-market dealer, gang boss, and low-life operator knew that to defy the Vultures meant certain death. They had eyes everywhere—splicers working the data-net, children running messages, bartenders overhearing whispers. Word of Sol's betrayal had spread like wildfire, and the Vultures had mobilized every asset at their disposal.In the dimly lit depths of a Vulture-controlled den, holographic displays flickered with grainy surveillance footage, tracking movements in and out of suspected hideouts. Their information brokers sifted through rumors, bribing or torturing anyone who might have seen Sol. Gangs under their control were ordered to shut down entire districts, roadblocks set at key intersections. Patrols of heavily armed enforcers scoured the alleyways, dragging out anyone who looked suspicious.The Vultures' leader, Serik, sat in the heart of this intelligence web, monitoring every piece of data that funneled in. His cybernetic eye flickered as he skimmed through reports. He was furious, not just because Sol had betrayed them, but because someone had outplayed him—and Serik did not tolerate being outplayed."Turn over every rock," he growled to his lieutenants. "I want that rat found before DreamCorp gets to him."While the Vultures exercised brute control over the slums, the Iron Fangs took a different approach. Knowing that brute force alone wouldn't be enough, they had hired the Strix Marauders—one of the deadliest mercenary units in the underworld.The Strix Marauders were infamous. Former military, exiled warriors, and augmented killers made up their ranks, each one a specialist in hunting and elimination. Their leader, a towering, ex-commando named Valka Solholm, was a legend in her own right. She had a reputation for never failing a contract, and her team was built around precision, stealth, and overwhelming force when needed.The Marauders moved through the slums like ghosts, slipping into dark alleys, blending in with crowds, and interrogating anyone who looked nervous. Their tactics were surgical—unlike the Vultures, who relied on brute intimidation, the Strix Marauders used intelligence and strategy. They hacked into security feeds, intercepted communications, and employed advanced tracking tech to follow any hint of Sol's trail.One of the mercenaries, a wiry, cybernetically enhanced tracker named Jex, knelt in an abandoned warehouse, scanning the ground with an advanced bioscanner. His visor flickered as he processed residual heat signatures."He was here," Jex muttered, his voice distorted by his helmet's modulator. "Within the last five days. But he's covering his tracks well."Valka folded her arms, her icy blue cybernetic eye glowing faintly. "Not well enough. He's wounded. He's hiding, not running."She turned to the rest of the squad. "Sweep the district. He won't stay hidden for long."Meanwhile, DreamCorp's forces were moving with terrifying efficiency. Their high-tech scanners had detected faint energy anomalies—readings coming from the core Voska was working on. It was only a matter of time before they pinpointed the exact location. Their heavily armored strike teams combed through the ruined outskirts of the slums, methodically clearing one sector after another.Sol, still holed up in the workshop, was growing more anxious by the hour. He had prepared all he could—his traps were set, his gadgets placed strategically. The robotic spiders were hidden in dark corners, waiting to ambush intruders. Recon drones hovered in the air, feeding him live data.Then, the alarm went off. Movement detected. Sol's pulse spiked as he checked his drone feed—dozens of DreamCorp soldiers were approaching, their rifles gleaming under the neon haze. And behind them, a towering war mech stomped forward, its hydraulic limbs hissing.He sucked in a cold breath. It was now or never.