The underground vault of the Golden Coin HQ was usually a place of silence and cold stone. But tonight, it hummed with the sound of mana-welders and the smell of ozone.

In the center of the room, a makeshift operating table had been set up.

Leona sat on the edge, shirtless except for a chest binding, sweating profusely. Her left arm ended in a jagged, blackened stump just below the elbow.

The scars from Valerius's Void Decay looked like charred wood against her skin.

"It itches," Leona grunted, her teeth gritted as Damien applied a numbing salve.

"It feels like ants are eating through my bone."

"That's the phantom limb," Damien said, wiping his hands.

"Your aura still thinks the hand is there. It's trying to push energy into a void."

He stepped back and tapped a large, floating communication crystal hovering over the table.

"Are you seeing this, Prince?"

The crystal flickered, and a holographic projection of Hephaestus and Grandmaster Brokk appeared. They were back in Ironforge, surrounded by blueprints.

"Aye," Brokk's voice crackled through the crystal.

"The nerve endings are cauterized by Void energy. Normal healing magic won't bridge that gap. If you attach a normal prosthetic, it will just fall off."

"We need to trick the body," Hephaestus added, adjusting his goggles.

"We need a conduit that conducts Beast Aura better than flesh."

"I have the materials," Damien said.

He reached into the lead-lined box on the table.

He pulled out the fragment of Valerius's Void Core. It pulsed with a dark, hungry rhythm. Next to it, he placed a bar of Mithril refined from the Dragon's Tomb loot.

"And I have the blueprints you sent," Damien pointed to the schematic projected on the wall.

It was a design for a Magitech Void-Gauntlet.

Instead of a simple mechanical hand, it was a skeletal frame designed to house the Void Core in the palm.

"It's risky, Voss," Brokk warned. "

You are grafting a Void Core directly onto a living being. If her Will isn't strong enough, the core will try to eat her arm to fuel itself."

Leona looked at the glowing purple shard. She didn't look scared. She looked hungry.

"I survived the Slaver King," Leona growled. "I survived the Lich. A rock isn't going to eat me."

"That's the spirit," Damien smirked.

He looked at the shadowed corner of the room.

"Alfred. I'll need your precision."

The shadows rippled.

Alfred stepped out, impeccably dressed in his butler's uniform, holding a silver tray with surgical tools and a pot of tea.

"I am ready, Young Master," Alfred said, bowing slightly.

"The tea is for Miss Leona. It is a sedative blend from the Elven Forest. It will help with the… integration."

"I don't need tea," Leona snapped. "Just do it."

"Drink it," Damien ordered. "If you thrash around, I might weld this thing to your forehead."

Leona grumbled but downed the tea in one gulp.

"Begin," Damien commanded.

The operation was less like surgery and more like forging a weapon.

Damien used his Golden Dragon Aura to superheat the Mithril, molding it into the skeletal shape of the arm.

Alfred used his Spatial Manipulation to make microscopic cuts, exposing Leona's nerve endings without causing bleeding.

Hephaestus and Brokk guided them through the crystal, shouting instructions on rune placement.

"Connect the aura-circuit to the radial nerve!" Hephaestus shouted.

"Now! Before the Mithril cools!"

Damien fused the metal to the bone.

"ARGH!" Leona screamed through her grit teeth, her body arching off the table.

"Hold her!"

Isabelle and Lyra rushed forward, pinning the Lioness down.

"Phase Two," Damien said, sweat dripping down his nose. He picked up the Void Core with a pair of mana-tongs.

"Integration."

He slotted the purple crystal into the palm of the metal hand.

HUMMMMMM.

The room vibrated.

The Void Core flared. Purple veins of energy shot out of the crystal, wrapping around the Mithril fingers, then shooting up into Leona's arm.

Invading through her very being, the Void energy sought to consume her Beast Aura.

"It's fighting her!" Brokk yelled.

"The Core is trying to reject the host! Leona! Push back! Dominate it!"

Leona's eyes rolled back. Her veins turned black.

"Mine..." Leona hissed, her voice overlapping with a guttural roar.

[Ability: Berserk Aura - Activated]

A red explosion of energy burst from Leona's chest.

Her Beast Aura instantly attacked the void energy.

The red energy slammed into the purple light.

For a second, her arm looked like a warzone of conflicting colors.

Then, the red swallowed the purple.

CLICK.

The mechanical fingers snapped shut. The black veins retreated.

The arm didn't look like dead metal anymore. It looked like living, black armor. The Void Core in the palm glowed with a stable, submissive light.

Leona gasped, falling back onto the table, panting heavily.

She lifted her new left arm. Moving silently, it perfectly synced with her thoughts.

She clenched her fist.

CRACK.

The air inside her palm shattered. A small, localized gravity distortion rippled out.

"It feels..." Leona whispered, staring at the black metal claws. "Cold. But strong."

"Success," Hephaestus breathed, slumping back in his chair on the projection.

"The Void-Gauntlet is active. Leona, that arm can touch things that aren't physical. You can grab ghosts. You can crush barriers. You can even catch spells."

"A mage killer," Lyra murmured, looking at the arm with respect.

"Thank you, Young Master," Leona sat up, flexing the fingers. She looked at Damien with fierce loyalty.

"I will use it to tear down your enemies."

"I know you will," Damien smiled, wiping soot from his face.

He turned to Alfred.

"Alfred. Status report on the fortress."

"While you were operating," Alfred said, pouring Damien a fresh cup of tea,

"I took the liberty of expanding the perimeter sensors."

"And?"

"The Slaver King, Baelor, has not been sighted," Alfred said, his face grave.

"However, my spies report that he has placed a bounty on a 'Silver-Haired Thief' in the underworld. He believes you died in the canyon collapse, but he is hunting your 'associates' out of spite."

Damien took the tea. His eyes narrowed.

"He thinks I'm dead?" Damien mused. "Good. Let him think that."

"We have sixteen years, Alfred. Baelor is a loose end. But right now, he's a distraction."

Damien looked at the map on the wall.

"When I return to the world as 'Zero'... Baelor won't be hunting me."

Damien's grip on the teacup tightened.

"I'll be hunting him. And I'll do it live."

"Live?" Isabelle titled her head.

"You'll see," Damien promised.

He looked at his team. They were healed. They were armed. They were rich.

"Get some rest," Damien ordered. "Tomorrow is the last day. We need to finalize the plan for the separation."

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