"Run? No. The only thing you should be running is your mouth, and even that’s debatable." — DaMiLaRe.
Micah reached in with his left hand. His fingers closed around a small, dense object. It was warm, pulsing with a faint crimson light that throbbed against his palm.
He pulled it free.
It was a crystal, smaller than the Astral Prism, about the size of a golf ball.
The surface was smooth and dark, with veins of red running through it. The energy inside it was dense and compressed, and despite everything that had just happened, still very much alive.
"Hello, beautiful."
He held it up to the dim vault lights. The crystal caught the glow and refracted it, throwing tiny red dots across the walls.
This was the Stone-Ape’s power source. The thing that had kept the construct running for decades, possibly centuries, without ever running out of juice.
And now it was his.
Micah shoved the crystal into his tactical pack. Then he patted the pack, feeling the familiar weight of the Astral Prism still zipped inside.
Both prizes were his.
"Okay. Loot secured. Guardian dead. Now, let me get the hell out of here before—"
SCUFF. SCUFF. SCUFF...
He heard footsteps.Heavy ones, coming from the entrance tunnel behind him. Two sets, moving fast, their boots striking the concrete in a synchronized rhythm that was unmistakable.
They were military-trained, coordinated and obviously armed. And they were getting closer by the second.
Micah’s head snapped toward the tunnel entrance. His blood ran cold.
"You have GOT to be kidding me."
It was Dexter and Myra.
They were both covered from head to toe in gore. Splatters of black mutant blood stained their custom-fitted uniforms.
Whatever had been lurking in the exterior corridors above, they’d carved through it with brute force and zero subtlety.
Micah’s stomach dropped. His body was wrecked. Two broken ribs, a burned hand, a bitten tongue, and Flux reserves so low he could barely keep his Beast Analysis running.
If Dexter took one look at him and decided to swing that broadsword, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
But then he remembered something— his face.
He’d grabbed a tactical mask from the logistics bay before sneaking out of the academy. A plain black face covering, standard military issue, the kind that concealed everything above the neck.
He’d pulled it on before entering the ruins to keep dust out of his lungs, and he’d forgotten to take it off.
Dexter and Myra had no idea who he was.
The two elites froze three meters inside the vault entrance. Their eyes swept the room, taking in the destruction. The cratered floor. The toppled server racks. The shattered titanium wall. The glowing trench carved across the concrete by plasma fire.
And then they saw the Stone-Ape, or l what was left of it.
The construct lay in a shallow crater, surrounded by broken rock and twisted metal. There was a huge hole in its chest.
The Nexus Core was gone.
The optical sensors were dead and dark. The red veins that had once pulsed with energy were cold grey lines on grey stone.
Standing over it, covered in blood and dust, was a figure in a black tactical mask.
Dexter’s broadsword dipped two inches. His confident, weapon-first stance faltered. His grey eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face so fast it was almost comical.
His jaw went a little bit slack, and for a full three seconds, the academy’s second-ranked recruit looked like a kid who’d just walked in on his parents.
Myra’s reaction was quieter but just as telling. Her short blades came up in a guard position, but her hands were trembling.
Her green eyes moved from the destroyed Stone-Ape to the blood-covered figure standing over it. She studied him for a moment, then swallowed hard as she reached a conclusion.
The Flux energy from the destroyed guardian still filled the air. The whole vault seemed to hum with it. And in the middle of it all stood a masked stranger, calm and still, who had apparently just killed an Apex Guardian.
Alone!!!
To Dexter and Myra, the math was simple. Only a Transcendent Warrior could pull that off. Maybe higher.
Micah saw the fear in their eyes and made a split-second decision.
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, staring at them through his mask with what he hoped was a calm, indifferent expression.
Internally, his broken ribs hurt so badly, and his burned hand was throbbing. He wanted to cry.
"Don’t talk. Don’t flinch. Don’t let them see you’re dying. Just stand still and look scary."
Dexter opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"We... we didn’t know anyone else was here," Dexter said. His usual confident drawl was gone, replaced by something else.
"We were just... exploring."
Behind his mask, Micah raised an eyebrow.
"Exploring? Sure. With drawn weapons and black-market maps." He almost laughed.
Myra elbowed Dexter hard in the ribs. The message was clear. Shut up.
She took a careful step forward, her blades lowered to her sides in a non-threatening posture.
"Senior Warrior," she said, her voice measured and respectful. "We meant no intrusion. We’ll leave immediately."
"Senior Warrior?" Micah almost choked. "I’m a low-level recruit who just got his ribs caved in by a rock golem. The only thing senior about me is my pain tolerance."
But he kept his mouth shut and his posture straight.
The illusion was working. They were scared. Genuinely scared. And as long as they stayed scared, they wouldn’t try anything.
Micah gave them a slow, deliberate nod. A single tilt of his chin that said everything without saying anything.
Dexter exhaled so hard it sounded like a deflating balloon. His shoulders sagged with relief. He sheathed his broadsword, the blade scraping against the scabbard with a nervous tremor.
"Right. Good. We’ll just... be going then."
He took a step backward toward the tunnel. Myra followed, keeping her eyes on Micah the entire time.
Just then, a loud shriek echoed through the vault.