Date: August 8, 980 GD Time: 11:30 AM Location: The Northern Gate (The Concrete Seal)
The Northern Gate was more than just a wall; it was a colossal concrete stopper separating the "Worthy" world from the "Discarded." It was the physical manifestation of Valdor's reality: cold, hard, and impenetrable.
Before the towering gray slab, an old logistics truck groaned to a halt. Its engine coughed, overheating in the stagnant heat, steam hissing from the radiator to mingle with the dust-choked air.
The rear doors creaked open.
Vance did not emerge with the majesty of a ruler. He didn't walk at all. He was lowered in a wheelchair, pushed by an administrative staff member whose face was drained of blood, pale with the terror of what stood before them.
Vance was a ruin of a man. His signature silk suit was gone, replaced by a white shirt soaked through with sweat and grime. His skin was lobster-red from heatstroke, his lips cracked and bleeding from severe dehydration. On his lap, he clutched a black metal box containing a Data-Crystal—the beating heart of his entire syndicate.
Waiting for him was Titus.
The Imperator did not look human. He looked like a walking fortress. His black Dreadnought armor gleamed under the harsh floodlights, reflecting a glare that dazzled Vance's eyes, which had grown accustomed to the bunker's gloom. Behind Titus, a platoon of Golem Centurions stood in a perfect phalanx, their steel spears pointing skyward—silent, motionless, deadly.
Vance weakly raised a hand, signaling his pusher to stop five meters from the giant.
Silence stretched between them. A hot wind blew, kicking up devils of dust.
"Operating temperatures below are unstable, Governor," Titus's voice boomed from behind his helmet. It was heavy and flat, sounding less like a greeting and more like a technical damage report.
Vance offered a bitter, broken smile. His teeth were stained red from gum blood.
"Air circulation failure, Commander. Coolant leak. Water pressure zero."
Vance glanced back over his shoulder, staring into the dark tunnel from which he had emerged. Even from here, he could hear the groaning death knell of ventilation machinery and the phantom murmurs of thousands awaiting their fate.
"I can hear it, Titus. Not the sound of war. But the sound of a system collapsing," Vance whispered hoarsely. "Fifty thousand organic units... humans... are failing because of my stupidity. Because I refused to turn the valve."
He looked back at the armored giant. "I tried to hold back a river's flow, only to realize... I am just a small pipe. And I am about to burst."
With trembling hands, Vance lifted the metal box from his lap. He placed it on the cracked asphalt, then slowly shoved it across the ground toward Titus's steel boots. The box scraped against the stone with a painful sreeet.
"This is the infrastructure data," Vance said, his voice hollow. "Blueprints, access codes, distribution algorithms, secret accounts. Everything. Take control."
Vance looked up, staring into the dark, impassive visor of Titus's helmet. There were no prayers, no dramatic tears. Just the total, unconditional surrender of a bankrupt manager.
"I surrender my assets. Submission is more efficient than total ruin. If I keep fighting, the monsters standing behind you will emerge, and this place will become a sterile oven. There is no point in being the ruler of ashes."
Vance bowed his head deeply, his chin touching his chest.
"Open the seal, Titus. Restart the water flow. Let the system run again."
He closed his eyes.
"I, The Valve, declare operational failure. I surrender."
Titus looked down at the broken little man in the wheelchair. He saw a bureaucrat who had finally realized that human lives could not simply be entered into a spreadsheet as 'acceptable loss.'
Titus did not pick up the box. Instead, he stepped forward. His massive shadow swallowed Vance, offering a brief, merciful respite from the blinding floodlights.
"Access accepted," Titus rumbled.
He raised an iron gauntlet to the side of his helmet, activating his long-range comms.
"Praetor Ash. Primary Target has surrendered system control. Under-City secured."
Titus looked at the Golems behind him and signaled.
"Open the valves. Begin logistics recovery protocol."
A deep, hydraulic rumbling vibrated from within the concrete wall. The ground trembled as the emergency water gates began to groan open.
WOOSH.
The sound of rushing water tore through the silence. Not sewage, but clean, pressurized water roaring into dry pipes. It was the sound of a pulse returning to a dead body.
Vance kept his eyes closed, listening. It wasn't the sound of heaven. It was the sound of water pumps restarting. The sound of machinery functioning as intended.
For the first time in three days, The Valve could stop resisting the pressure that was crushing him. He wept silently, tears mixing with the dust on his face, dripping onto his dirty shirt.
Date: August 8, 980 GD Time: 11:45 AM Location: Nexus Hall — Command Center
The main screen before me flashed once, breaking the room's silence with harsh static before resolving into Imperator Titus's face.
Behind the Valdor giant, concrete dust and gunsmoke billowed, framing the scene of a pathetic surrender. Titus wasn't smiling, but an aura of savage satisfaction radiated from him—the satisfaction of a predator that had finally locked its jaws around its prey's neck.
"Grand Praetor," Titus's voice echoed heavily. "The Valve has been shut."
The drone camera mounted on Titus's shoulder panned down, revealing Vance.
The former underground ruler slumped in his wheelchair, ringed by Golem spears. He looked small, old, and utterly broken. There was no arrogance left. Just the remains of a man who had succumbed to the gravity of fate.
I sipped my cold tea, my expression unchanging.
"His condition?" I asked flatly.
"Alive. Mentally shattered," Titus reported. "He surrendered the master drive. All logistics blueprints are in our hands."
"Good." I leaned forward, my gaze sharpening. "Don't take risks, Titus. Immediately fit him with Null-Cuffs. Seal his mana circuits to absolute zero. I don't care if he's dying; make sure he can't even light a match."
Titus nodded. "Executed. Further instructions?"
"Take him directly to the Main Lift Terminal. Do not process him through the Nexus cells. He goes straight to the Zenith delivery route."
"You're sending him Up now?"
"He's not a prisoner, Titus. He's a package," I said coldly. "The Sky ordered the rebel leader's head, and we'll send it while it's still warm. Make sure he's in the cargo hold within an hour. I'll meet you there."
"Understood."
The connection cut.
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long, heavy sigh. Vance was finished. But as my eyes shifted to the data screen beside me, my relief evaporated like mist in a furnace.
On that screen, Rian had compiled the "Damage Balance" post-operation. Red numbers flashed aggressively, detailing the price paid for this victory.
[PACIFICATION IMPACT REPORT - DAY 5]
Civilian Casualties (Est): 2,140 Injured, 350 Dead (Riots & Dehydration).
Infrastructure Damage: Layer -1 Market Sector destroyed (Looted/Burned).
Contaminant Status: 500 "Walking Bomb" Inmates (Subject: Kael's Experiments) remain at large in lower sectors.
Blind Spots: 40% of Under-City territory (Kora & Prophet remnants) unmapped post-riot.
"Chaos..." I murmured, reading the data. "I released five hundred mad dogs to bite Vance. Now Vance has fallen, but the dogs are still out there, gnawing on whatever they find."
Five hundred inmates outfitted with explosive Collars. They were my instruments of terror. But now, they were trash that needed taking out. If I left them, they'd become new petty kings in Vance's ruins.
"Rian," I called sharply.
Rian jerked from his reverie, nearly dropping his tablet. "Y-yes, Sir?"
"Connect me to Justiciar Kael. Now."
The screen lit up again, revealing Kael's face, half-hidden by black cloth. He looked unnervingly calm amidst the darkness of his office.
"Praetor," Kael greeted smoothly. "Vance is secured. Are we celebrating?"
"Not yet," I said quickly. "We have a residue problem. Vance fell, but I left five hundred walking bombs down there. And I need a new map because the infrastructure damage has changed the terrain topography."
I clenched my fist.
"Kael, activate Phase Two: 'The Verdict Run'."
"You mean... involving the students?" Kael asked, an eyebrow raising.
"Mobilize all students from the three academies. Valdor, Aurum, Aethelgard. Make it a covert Compulsory Service under the guise of a 'Weekend Competition'. Give them credit points, promise them perfect grades."
I pointed at the red dots on the holographic map representing the scattered positions of the inmates.
"The students' task is simple: Manhunt and Remapping."
"The primary targets are the 500 Inmates we released. They must be recaptured—alive or dead. Each returned Collar is worth high points."
"Additionally," I shifted the map to the unexplored dark zones, "every student must record their route. I want every rat tunnel, every hidden warehouse, and every ventilation hole in the Under-City digitally remapped within 48 hours."
Kael was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. A faint, rare smile touched his lips.
"You're using students to clean up our own experimental trash, while simultaneously using them as free mapping probes. Cruel efficiency, Wynter. I like it."
"'The Verdict Run' protocol begins in one hour. I'll make sure they know the 'Quarry' down there is extremely dangerous."
The screen went dark.
Kael's face vanished. Thousands of students would soon descend into the sewers, thinking they were heroes hunting big criminals. In reality, they were just free janitors.
I stood alone in the center of the Command Center. A moment of silence before the final act.
I walked to the large window. With a hand gesture, I summoned the Sky Liaison—the ears of the Gods.
A golden screen illuminated the room. The logo of a triple eye spun gracefully, looking down at me with digital arrogance.
"Grand Praetor Ash," the voice echoed, smooth and synthetic. "Vance's cargo is moving to the terminal. Your report?"
I straightened my back, fixing my face into a mask of stoicism.
"Main Mission Complete," I reported firmly. "Primary Target, Vance, secured and shipping to Zenith as evidence. The keys to the underground gates are in our hands."
"And the commotion in the lower sectors?" the voice asked, the tone laced with suspicion. "Our sensors detected multiple explosions and mass movements. Our mandate was 'pacification', not open war."
This was the moment. The cover-up.
"That was just... renovation dust," I answered casually, not hesitating for a second. "I'm performing a final deep clean. Students are being deployed to ensure no trash is left behind. In 48 hours, the Lower Sector will be cleaner and quieter than ever before."
A brief silence. The Sky was judging me.
"Efficient. We will hold you to your word. Ensure not a single rat remains when the deadline expires."
"We await your delivery."
The connection cut. The golden light vanished.
I lowered my hand, and immediately, my shoulders slumped. Exhaustion hit me like a physical blow.
I stared at my reflection in the dark window glass. The face of a liar stared back.
Look at yourself, Wynter. You just lied to God's face without blinking.
But the funnier thing was the fairy tale I had sold to my friends. Yesterday, in that roundtable meeting, I had terrified Titus and Vianna with ghost stories.
I told them we were facing "The Silent Echo"—a sophisticated anti-mage organization hellbent on destroying our way of life. I made Titus feel he was leading a Holy War. I made Vianna panic that her assets would be sabotaged by terrorists.
What was the truth?
The original order from the Sky was singular: "Clear the Ratlines."
The people up there didn't care about ideology or revolution. They just cared that their delivery pipes were clogged. To put it bluntly, they had ordered me to be a Plumber to fix the clog in their toilet.
But me? I wrapped this dirty job in the gift wrap of a "Great War". I played on Titus's ego and Vianna's greed just so they'd help me pick up the trash.
I'm not a General. I'm just a circus manager who makes dirty work look cool so others will do it for me.
A small laugh escaped my lips. Dry and hollow.
"Renovation dust..." I murmured. "I hope that dust doesn't explode in my face when they realize their 'Great Enemy' was just a sewer thug."
I turned around. Enough thinking. Time marched on.
I looked at Rian, who was still standing dumbfounded beside the table. His face was pale, his eyes wide—he had just witnessed his boss lie to everyone who mattered. In the corner, Kara was cleaning her nails with a knife, looking thoroughly bored.
"Rian," I called out.
He jumped as if electrocuted. "R-ready, Sir?"
"I'm going to the Lift Terminal. I need to make sure Vance goes Up safely. I want to see his face when he realizes he's truly discarded."
I pointed at the monitors showing the initial student movements.
"While I'm gone, you hold the fort."
"M-me?" Rian panicked. "But Sir, this is a joint operation! What if the Valdor kids go berserk? I'm just a secretary!"
"You are my secretary," I cut him off.
I tapped the table, connecting a call to Vianna's office in Aurum.
"Patch Vianna through. Tell her: 'Cleanup time. I need your Eye.'"
I looked straight at Rian.
"You and Vianna handle the scores. Vianna validates the student captures, and your job is singular: Make sure those brats from the three academies don't kill each other."
"Record every returned quarry collar. Count every warehouse found. I want a full report on my desk when I get back from the Terminal."
"Don't let this chaos go unrecorded. Understand?"
Rian swallowed hard, then nodded stiffly. "Roger. Logging the chaos. Understood, Praetor."
I turned to the corner. "Kara."
The woman looked up, a feral grin spreading across her face. "Finally. We go hit people?"
"No," I answered. "You stay here."
Kara's smile vanished. "Huh? Babysit this Bookworm?" She pointed her knife at Rian. Rian took a terrified step back.
"Rian holds the brain of the operation, Kara. If he dies or faints from panic, we are blind. Vianna isn't a hundred percent trustworthy," I said seriously.
"Guard him. Make sure no one enters this room except me. If anyone tries to intimidate him—whether from Valdor or Aurum—break their hand."
Kara snorted in disappointment, but she sheathed her knife. She walked over to Rian and slapped his back so hard he nearly toppled over.
"Relax, Boss. The Bookworm is safe with me. Anyone who touches him will go home with just a name."
"Good."
I straightened the collar of my robe, feeling the residual cold in my fingertips biting deeper.
"Now, call Solstice. Tell her to meet me at the hangar."
"Solstice?" Kara asked, surprised.
"Yes. I need her fire in case there are surprises on the road."
I walked toward the exit, my steps firm on the metal floor, leaving Rian looking slightly calmer with a deadly bodyguard by his side.
"I have a final appointment with a friend."
Date: August 8, 980 GD Time: 12:30 PM Location: Main Lift Terminal (Base Layer) — Cargo Hangar
The Main Lift Terminal was the coldest place in Zero Point City.
The downdraft falling from a height of 10,000 meters slammed into the concrete floor, bringing with it the freezing, thin air of the stratosphere. There were no room heaters here. Only the roar of giant hydraulic machines and the sharp, stinging smell of ozone.
I walked into the vast hangar alone. My robe fluttered in the gale, but it wasn't the wind that made me shiver.
It was my own body.
After aggressively using ice magic in the dorm yesterday, and enduring the stress of lying to the Joint Commission just now, my internal Heat Sink circuits were screaming. My blood felt like icy sludge moving through my veins. My heart beat slowly—too slowly.
I needed my battery.
And there she was.
In the middle of the empty hangar, Solstice Burn leaned against a steel pillar.
She wore a modified Valdor combat uniform—extra ventilation, sleeves rolled up. Her black umbrella was open, spinning slowly above her head, hissing thin plumes of blue steam as it worked to cool the air around her.
In this freezing hangar, she was the only point of "life." The air around her shimmered with heat distortion.
She saw me coming. Her glowing blue eyes scanned my pale face.
"You look like a corpse that forgot to be buried, Ice Cube," she greeted flatly.
I didn't respond to her taunt. I walked straight toward her, ignoring polite protocol. I entered her personal radius, passed through the protective cool aura of her umbrella, and stood right next to her.
My shoulder pressed against hers.
SESS...
It felt like an electric shock, but a pleasant one.
Her wild, excessive body heat instantly seeped through the fabric of our uniforms, flowing into my starved, frozen body. My previously sluggish heart jolted awake. My blood began to thaw.
I let out a long breath, white vapor escaping my lips.
"Don't ask questions," I murmured softly, closing my eyes for a moment to enjoy this 'transfusion' of energy. "I just need a recharge."
Solstice snorted, but she didn't pull away. She even tilted her body slightly, leaning into the contact.
"You're a real parasite," she commented sarcastically, though there was no real venom in her tone. "You use me as a space heater, and I use you as a coolant pack. We're the most pathetic couple in this city."
"Efficiency, Solstice. Efficiency," I replied, my eyes opening again. Color was slowly returning to my cheeks.
The sound of heavy machinery rumbled from the hangar entrance.
"The package is here," I said, straightening up but remaining within Solstice's warmth.
A Valdor armored truck rolled in, flanked by two Golem escorts. The vehicle stopped right in front of a Cargo Pod—a windowless black iron capsule connected to the vertical magnetic rail that shot straight up into the darkness.
The truck's rear doors opened.
Two Valdor soldiers dragged Vance out.
The former Governor was no longer in his wheelchair. He was forced to walk, though his feet dragged uselessly. His hands were shackled with thick, glowing blue Null-Cuffs, completely neutralizing his mana access.
He looked terrible. His shirt was torn, his face swollen, and his eyes... his eyes were empty. Like someone whose soul had been forcibly surgically removed.
They brought him before me.
Vance looked up. He saw me standing there, looking fresh and powerful, with a monster of fire standing casually by my side.
"Praetor..." his voice was a hoarse whisper, like sandpaper on stone.
"Governor," I greeted coldly. "Or should I call you 'package'?"
Vance gave a small laugh, a broken and pitiful sound.
"You win, Kid. You win."
He looked at the black Cargo Pod behind me, then looked at me and Solstice alternately. He saw the hot steam still rising from Solstice's shoulder and saw the color returning to my face.
"You two..." he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "You two are monsters."
"We are the consequences, Vance," I replied.
I gestured to the Valdor soldiers. "Take him in. But don't seal the door. We're coming along."
Vance's eyes widened slightly. "You're... coming Up?"
"The Sky needs a direct report," I said, though the real reason was my ego. I needed to see the end of this. I needed to ensure this package didn't 'get lost' on the way up.
We stepped into the belly of the Blackstone capsule.