The Vault wasn't a traditional room. It was a massive, iron-bound door set deep into the living rock of the town's foundation. Beside the door was a small, recessed window blocked by heavy, enchanted iron rods—reminiscent of a high-security prison cell.
From within, Thomas could hear the frantic scratching of pens on parchment and the low, rhythmic hum of a massive Qi-array at work, though he couldn't see anything through the darkness of the slit.
"What's about that place?" Thomas asked, and Trevor's gaze fell over Thomas. The detective didn't like the weight behind that look—it was expectant, heavy with a hidden agenda that felt like a nudge toward a cliff.
"You'll go there…"
"No way! I won't risk my life again with them!" Thomas snapped, his voice firm and decisive. He had barely survived his first encounter with the "Vault Dwellers." To walk back in willingly felt like a suicide mission.
