Chapter 276: The Supposed Rescue

The clerk looked at the stacks of cash inside the vault, then nervously stepped over the threshold. Solomon followed closely behind him.

"Can you store everything in this vault?" Solomon asked, gesturing to the massive fortune.

The clerk nodded hesitantly. "I can do it, but it will take some time to process everything into the pocket dimension."

"We do not have enough time for that," Solomon stated, checking his imaginary watch. "You have to hurry."

The clerk paused and looked at him in genuine confusion. "You already dealt with every enforcer in this building. Who else is coming?"

"The cops," Solomon answered bluntly.

The clerk gasped, his face turning completely pale. "Did the executives manage to call the authorities before you killed them?!"

"It was not them," Solomon replied, offering a calm smile. "I called the cops."

Solomon pointed a finger at the terrified clerk. "You are going to act as the official whistleblower for this entire operation. Although there is technically no one left alive upstairs for them to arrest, you are still going to blow the lid off this company."

He let out a quiet scoff. "I will give you the exact script. You just have to act your part perfectly."

While the clerk frantically ran around the vault, touching stacks of cash and gold bars to store them inside his dimensional inventory, Solomon detailed the fabricated story he needed to tell the police. The clerk was far too terrified to argue, simply nodding in obedience as the vault slowly emptied.

"Are you... are you going to kill me once you have used me?" the clerk stammered, pausing near a safety deposit box.

Solomon scowled, looking genuinely offended by the accusation. "Do I look like a cold-blooded killer to you?"

The clerk stared at Solomon. The teenager’s gray hoodie was splattered with gore, his face bore streaks of dried crimson, and his bare knuckles were thoroughly coated in fresh blood. The answer was incredibly obvious, but the clerk wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.

"They were the ones who harmed me first," Solomon rationalized, crossing his arms. "As long as you do not try anything funny or go off script, you have nothing to worry about. Besides, you literally have the entire company vault stored inside your talent space right now. That is the best life insurance policy you can possibly buy."

A few minutes later, the distant wail of police sirens echoed through the city streets.

"They are here," Solomon announced. He quickly closed the heavy steel vault doors. "Get ready for your script."

Solomon left the clerk near the executive offices and took the private elevator directly down to the basement sub-levels. He stepped out into the grim, dungeon-like interrogation center, where hundreds of desperate debtors were chained to the walls and locked inside reinforced cells.

He used Marcus’s stolen ID card to unlock one of the empty cells, stepped inside, and securely locked the iron door behind him, sitting on the cold floor to pretend he was just another captive victim.

A short while later, the authorities arrived. The specialized Awakened tactical units, who were trained specifically for high-risk rescue operations and combating Awakened criminals, came busting through the reinforced doors, blowing holes through the walls and floors to secure the building rapidly.

They utilized specialized magical tools and unique combat talents perfectly suited for breaching heavy fortifications.

The tactical teams tore down the basement cell doors and rescued every single person chained inside. Solomon kept his head down, pretending to be a traumatized captive as the officers escorted them out of the building.

The rescued victims were gathered outside in a secure perimeter. Paramedics handed out nutritional packs, warm drinks, and clean blankets, while heavily armed SWAT teams swept every single floor of the corporate building to secure the crime scene.

A few minutes later, the Police Chief walked out of the shattered glass lobby. She wore the standard tactical uniform, but she carried a distinct, commanding presence. Her dark hair was tied back in a strict ponytail, and she wore a pair of specialized dark glasses that clearly served a tactical, magical purpose rather than just acting as fashion sunshades.

She stood in front of the huddled rescue victims. "Does anyone here know what happened inside that building today? Do any of you know why every single corporate enforcer inside is dead?"

No one said a word. The victims were in absolutely no condition to speak or make a coherent statement, and those who tried to answer were so deeply traumatized that their rambling testimonies could not be taken seriously.

A tactical officer jogged over to the Chief. "Ma’am, the Awakened paramedics have confirmed that every single corporate employee inside that building is deceased. Except for one individual. He is a junior clerk claiming that he was the one who called us."

"Has his identity and background been scanned?" the Chief asked.

"Yes, Chief," the officer nodded. "He has zero past criminal records. We also scanned his core. His innate talent and physical build strongly suggest he was not the one who executed the massacre inside."

The Chief pondered the information for a moment, adjusting her dark glasses. "It is obviously not the work of one man alone. No matter how strong an Awakened individual is, or what kind of destructive talent they possess, one person simply cannot slaughter nearly three hundred armed enforcers in close-quarters combat without suffering fatal injuries themselves. Unless that person was a seasoned, S-rank veteran fighter or a high-ranking international criminal, which clearly does not fit the profile of a junior clerk."

She turned back to the officer. "Have you confirmed there were no surveillance cameras active inside?"

"Confirmed, Chief," the officer replied. "There were no internal cameras whatsoever. It makes sense, considering the illegal extortion and torture they were conducting in the basement. They did not want to leave any digital proof of their crimes. It is also clear the executives did not trust their own men, which explains why the internal floors were so heavily reinforced and the basement required biometric access."

The officer checked his digital tablet. "Furthermore, according to the external street footage we inspected, no one entered or left the building all morning. The only anomaly was a single company car that arrived an hour ago. We confirmed the occupants were their own men. One of them was Marcus, the senior enforcer whose dead body we found in the executive office upstairs."

The Chief crossed her arms. "Does that mean the survivor’s whistleblower testimony matches the evidence? Was this not an external attack, but a massive internal feud where the enforcers simply turned on each other and killed themselves over a dispute?"

"That is highly likely the case, Chief," the officer agreed. "But we will uncover more details soon enough. We are holding the survivor for questioning, and we will get a comprehensive, detailed statement from him before letting him go."

The Chief nodded. She looked at the huddled group of rescued victims and issued an order. "Treat all of them. Transport them to the secure medical facilities, perform full physical check-ups, and process their civilian profiles."

The officer saluted and immediately began barking orders to the paramedic teams, who quickly got to work organizing the transport shuttles.

The Chief glanced around the crowded perimeter. Her specialized dark glasses glinted as she scanned the line of rescued victims. She raised an eyebrow, a subtle frown creasing her forehead.

She called out to a nearby patrol cop, who rushed over immediately. "Yes, Chief! What happened?!"

"Did someone just leave or move from that specific spot in the line?"

The cop looked at the designated spot, squinted, and then shook her head. "No, Chief. There was no one standing there."

The Chief nodded slowly, though her expression remained unconvinced. She turned around, got into her armored police cruiser, and drove away from the crime scene.

Meanwhile, Solomon had already utilized Basic Stealth to slip seamlessly out of the rescue perimeter. He sprinted through the quiet residential streets and reached his house.

Fortunately, Johan, Elara, and Jasmine were still down at the diner dealing with the morning aftermath. Solomon quickly washed the dried blood from his skin, burned his ruined, blood-stained clothes in the backyard incinerator to destroy the evidence, changed into a fresh, clean outfit, and went upstairs to relax in his room.

"That was a good workout!"