Tie Kuang leaped toward the ceiling.
The stone under his boots burst. He rose through the hot air with his warhammer above his head, drawing earth qi into its iron head until it glowed like molten rock.
“A miner bows to no one!”
Austin looked at the power board beneath the falling hammer. A hit there would arc through the water system and fill the hall with steam. Terrible mechanics, Austin thought. Tie leads with his shoulders, not his hips.
He moved three steps to put himself between Tie and the equipment.
Xiaoyao dragged the last injured worker behind a pillar. Kang ordered everyone flat.
Tie came down.
His swing was huge, direct, and full of everything he refused to admit. He had bypassed the Colossus safety limits. He had threatened his own crew. Now he was spending a century of life to avoid saying he had been wrong.
Austin planted his boots and lifted the five-foot wrench.
There was no speech and no grand technique. He chose the shortest line into the hammer’s path.
The two weapons met above the power board.
Tink.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the dark iron hammerhead cracked from end to end. Its fire went out. The force traveled back through the handle and into Tie’s arms.
His shoulders twisted. His grip opened. The shattered weapon became gray powder.
Austin turned the wrench and guided the falling man away from the machinery. Tie’s huge body hit an empty section of floor and slid to a stop.
The Asura plates broke into ash. He shrank back to his normal size, breathing in short, painful pulls.
Silence followed.
Austin checked the power board. It was unharmed. Then he checked Tie.
The old miner was conscious. His nose was bleeding, one shoulder was dislocated, and his core was badly drained. He tried to push himself up and failed.
“Stay down,” Austin said.
Tie glared at him. Even now, pride held his chin off the floor.
“Kill me, then.”
“No. You have medical bills and a repair bill.”
Kang approached with a healer’s kit. Tie turned his face away.
Austin did not ask for gratitude. He pointed to the yellow safety line.
“Nobody crosses until we know his core is stable.”
The miners obeyed. They were not watching a god descend or a new master rise. They were watching an injured old man refuse help because accepting it felt harder than the fight.
Xiaoyao picked up the clipboard and found a clean page.
“Medical incident?” he asked.
“Medical incident, property damage, and one very bad safety decision.”
Austin wiped iron dust from the wrench jaw. Then he checked it for burrs.
Tie closed his eyes. He still had not surrendered in his own mind. But his hammer was gone, his workers were safe, and nobody knelt.