Chapter 163: Rest and Future Plans...
Chapter 163: Chapter 163: Rest and Future Plans...
Chapter 163: Rest and Future Plans...
The heavy steel vault doors located three floors beneath Bastion Six groaned under their own immense weight.
SHUDDER!
The thick metallic slabs slid apart as the biometric locks finally accepted the bloody data-drive. The Captain stepped through the threshold, his boots clicking softly against the polished granite floor.
The air inside the subterranean room was stale and heavy, completely untouched by the carnage that had taken place in the plaza above.
The cavernous space was illuminated by the soft, ambient glow of thousands of low-tier magic cores stacked in neat crystalline pyramids.
Beyond them sat towering pallets of gold bullion, crates of Vanguard-issue heavy munitions, and velvet-lined cases displaying high-end luxury items.
Traitor or not, Cassian Stillbane had amassed a fortune that could rival the treasury of a small nation.
Cole Rust, the soot-covered Blacksmith, stepped up beside The Captain and let out a low, echoing whistle.
"We hit the jackpot," Cole muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the mountains of wealth.
"We can fund the entire syndicate for a decade with just the gold in this corner."
The Captain shook his head slowly. "We will leave the bulk of it."
Cole blinked, turning his head in confusion. "Come again?"
"Bastion Six is currently bleeding," The Captain said flatly, his voice devoid of greed.
"Their Lord Commander needs this gold to rebuild the shattered outer walls and pay the families of the casualties. A destroyed, bankrupt Bastion serves no purpose to our shadow empire. We only take what is strictly necessary for our own immediate survival."
He pointed toward a reinforced titanium cage at the very back of the vault.
"Grab the S-Rank magic cores, the rare alchemy materials, and any Void-Core ores you can find," The Captain ordered.
"Leave the gold. Leave the standard weapons."
Cole groaned loudly. He grabbed a massive canvas sack and began stuffing it with heavy, jagged chunks of iron-blood ores and dense, dark metals.
He dragged the heavy bag over his shoulder, his knees buckling slightly under the immense weight.
He looked over with deep envy as Nyx, the Phantom Assassin, casually strolled through the aisles.
She gracefully picked up a few weightless, priceless high-grade dimensional gems and dropped them into a small silk pouch hanging from her belt.
"You could help me carry these rocks," Cole grumbled, shifting the massive sack on his back.
Nyx smiled beneath the fabric of her dark mask.
"My class relies on agility, Cole. Heavy lifting ruins my posture and dulls my reflexes. Besides, you need the physical conditioning."
---
The squad finished their practical harvest and moved back to the surface, leaving the vast majority of the fortune behind for the recovering military forces.
They relocated to a highly secure, off-the-grid safehouse near the edge of the district.
The lavish penthouse was filled with warm lighting, thick rugs, and the rich smell of roasted meats and seasoned vegetables.
The crushing tension of fighting a mutated behemoth and a Cult Elder finally began to wash away.
In the corner of the living room, Estella, the Star Mage, hovered anxiously near The Captain. She held a glowing compress of soothing stellar mana, eyeing a deep purple bruise on his neck with extreme suspicion.
"I am fine," The Captain said, gently attempting to wave her off.
"You fought a Level 200 mutant and an ancient Cult Elder," Estella insisted, her eyes narrowing as she pressed the warm compress firmly against his skin.
"Your ribs are bruised, and your mana channels are stressed. Sit perfectly still and eat your food."
The Captain sighed, accepting his fate as he took a bite of bread.
Across the large wooden dining table, Reina, the Cryo-Berserker, leaned back in her heavy oak chair.
She took a long, refreshing drink from a wooden mug and looked over at Aegon. Her face was flushed with warmth, a stark contrast to the icy aura she usually projected on the battlefield.
"I still cannot believe you," Reina said, shaking her head in sheer disbelief.
"A mutated monstrosity drops from the sky, swinging bone scythes that can effortlessly cut through reinforced tank armor, and your first instinct is to pick up a literal piece of the floor to block it."
Aegon, the Vanguard, paused mid-bite of a massive roasted turkey leg. He chewed his food thoughtfully, his armored shoulders shifting slightly.
"The stone slab was incredibly thick," Aegon replied with complete seriousness.
"It possessed dense structural integrity. I channeled my aura into the rock to reinforce the microscopic fissures. Therefore, it was a perfectly viable shield."
Reina stared at him in complete silence for three full seconds before bursting into loud, genuine laughter.
"You are incredibly dense. You know that, right?"
Aegon frowned slightly, completely missing the joke, and took another massive bite of meat.
’I was just being efficient with my environment,’ he thought to himself.
’A shield is simply an object placed between myself and the incoming threat. Why is she so upset?’
Cole walked into the dining room a moment later, looking absolutely miserable. The dark soot from Cassian’s Abyssal Steel mutation was heavily caked into his hair, his pores, and his clothes. He looked like a walking lump of coal.
"Did you lose a fistfight with a chimney?" Nyx asked from the corner of the room, casually polishing the edge of a new curved dagger she had found in the vault.
"This stuff does not wash off," Cole complained loudly, scrubbing his face violently with a damp towel to no avail.
"Abyssal Steel residue binds to human sweat and magical residue. I am going to smell like a demonic forge for a week."
The room erupted into quiet, natural laughter. For a brief, fleeting moment, the shadow of the Cult and the heavy burden of the Apocalypse Clock faded away into the background.
They were just a squad of exhausted survivors, eating warm food, nursing their bruises, and enjoying the simple fact that they were all still breathing.
THUD.
The sound of The Captain setting his empty glass down on the wooden table was relatively soft, but the entire room fell dead silent instantly. The casual banter vanished like smoke.
Strike Team Zero immediately shifted gears, their eyes locking onto their leader. The cooldown phase was officially over.
"We killed a Fifth Elder today," The Captain began, his voice cold, steady, and utterly pragmatic.
"The Church of the Eternal Eclipse will not ignore this loss. We have forcefully kicked a hornet’s nest. But we also secured the vital resources we need for the next stage of our operation."
He reached into his dark jacket and pulled out a handful of the shimmering S-Rank magic cores they had taken from Cassian’s vault. He tossed them onto the center of the wooden table, letting them clatter against the wood.
"The Apocalypse Clock is still ticking down," he continued, scanning the faces of his loyal crew.
"We need to aggressively expand our safe zones. These high-tier cores are going straight to the engineering sector the moment we return to Bastion Seven. We are going to construct the Miasma Clearing Towers along the outer perimeter."
Estella leaned forward, her eyes analyzing the glowing stones.
"If we push the Miasma fog back, we expose the Cult’s hidden travel routes. We take away the shadows they use to move their corrupted beasts."
"Exactly," The Captain nodded.
"We blind them before they can blind us."
He looked around the table, using his hidden system interface to quickly scan the internal mana signatures of his squad members. He saw the dense, chaotic energy swirling inside each of them.
"Every single one of you is hovering dangerously near the edge of the Level 100 threshold," he stated. "The upcoming journey home will undoubtedly push you over that edge."
Aegon cracked his heavy knuckles. "We evolve and get stronger."
"No," The Captain corrected sharply.
"You do not evolve on the open road. A Level 100 Awakening is a massive physiological change. It leaves you completely vulnerable and comatose during the transition period. If an elite Cult hit squad tracks us down in the wilderness while half the team is asleep from a class evolution, we all die. My condition was special."
He tapped his index finger firmly against the table to emphasize his point.
"We will hunt monsters on the road back to Bastion Seven. We will max out our experience limits. But when you hit Level 100, you will seal your Awakenings. You will force the energy to remain locked inside your core. We only unseal our powers and undergo the evolution process when we are safely behind the heavy artillery walls of our own Bastion. We do it under the undeniable protection of our own military forces."
Nyx nodded slowly in agreement. "Smart. Extreme paranoia keeps you alive in this business."
"Once we are fully evolved and stabilized," The Captain said, his eyes narrowing into cold slits, "we begin the endgame preparations. We gather our strength for the Elimination of the Kings."
The heavy, ominous title hung in the quiet air of the safehouse. The squad knew exactly what that meant. It meant total, unyielding war against the apex leaders of the enemy factions.
"But before we can return home," The Captain added, shifting his gaze directly toward Cole.
"We have a vital detour to make. Your basic iron hammering techniques are no longer sufficient to forge the weapons we need to win this upcoming war."
Cole swallowed hard, the Abyssal soot on his face suddenly feeling very tight and uncomfortable. "Where are we going?"
The Captain pulled a heavily encrypted digital map from his pocket and tossed it onto the table next to the glowing cores.
"We are heading to a set of hidden coordinates," The Captain said, standing up from his chair.
"Pack your gear and load the vehicles. We ride for The Worldforge Sanctum."