His knuckles scraped against the rusted edge of the wall, sending fine flecks of dust tumbling down; neon acid rain poured down the alley’s drainpipe, splashing at Akai’s feet 🌧️; meanwhile, the red beacon of the corporate security mech had already swept around the corner 🤖. With a sudden lunge, he yanked out the warm, orange-red short blade tucked at his waist 🔥—its spirally twisted blade gleamed with a matte, plastic-like sheen, while the thunder-pattern engraving along the edge danced with an eerie glow under the neon lights ⚡. The cloud-and-flame motifs etched alongside the cord-wrapped handle seemed to come alive, unfurling like living things. This was a 3D-printed prototype Akai had dragged out of an abandoned lab in the old wasteland ⚙️—the printing material mixed in nerve-activating phosphorus powder left behind by the resistance of the old era. As long as it came near the corporation’s encrypted cryptosilver chip, it would keep heating up, feeling like he’d tucked a tiny sun into the small of his back ☀️. The mech’s heavy metallic footsteps rattled the walls, sending dust raining down, while Akai pressed himself against the base of the wall, holding his breath, his knuckles turning pale from the strain. Just as the red light locked onto him, the short blade suddenly blazed with heat, nearly scorching his hand 🔥; at the same moment, the mech’s alarm erupted in a deafening cacophony of garbled noise 📳, and the entire machine exploded in a burst of sparks, with chip fragments scattering at Akai’s feet. He looked down and saw, slowly emerging from the flame patterns on the blade, the erased words: “The gene bank core is beneath your feet” ✍️.