The next morning, Ren had intended to take a small break. He wanted to get away from the bustle of the palace and enjoy a simple morning, while visiting Alfred and Bella—the pair of Penal tigers now temporarily housed in the royal stables along with their three cubs.
Ren's car was parked not far from the horse stables. The area was quiet, a comfortable enough place to serve as a makeshift workshop and a quiet corner for Ren to reflect and tinker with his combat gear. Beneath the shade of a large tree, he opened the back door of his car, which had long been converted into a portable workspace.
His green armor, the key to his victory against Veskar, now lay spread out across a foldable metal table. Deep scratches marred its surface, patches of mithril plating were peeled off, and hairline fractures spidered across the jet stabilizer supports.
"Wake up, daddy's here," Ren muttered, plugging a data cable into a port just below his collarbone plate.
