I wasn't sleeping. My brain was stuck in a high-octane loop, plotting the heating pipe network for the new residential blocks. Just as I was about to stand up for a third cup of caffeine, a red indicator light on the top-left of the console flickered.
Beep.
A crisp, monotonous electronic sound. In the dead silence of the night, it felt like a gunshot. It wasn't a magical alarm. It was a Physical Intercept. I set my cup down, locking my gaze onto a palm-sized black-and-white monitor—the feed from the Pyroelectric Infrared Sensor at the ventilation exhaust.
On the screen, the corridor appeared empty. The two Cat-kin guards at the door were leaning against their spears, nodding off. But in the Thermal Imaging overlay, a human-shaped crimson mass was sauntering right between them.
“...Interesting.” A cold smirk tugged at my lips. This guy was a pro. He had suppressed his light, his sound, and even his scent. But in the laws of physics, if you’re a biological entity, you have a Metabolism. If you have a metabolism, you generate Radiant Heat.
He thought he was a ghost walking in the shadows. On my screen, he looked like a clown streaking through the dark with a lit torch.
I picked up the radio. “Brad,” I whispered, “wake up. We have a guest. Grab your shield. And don't make a sound.”
Three minutes later.
The pneumatic lock of the control room was picked silently by an impossibly thin tool. The door slid open a crack. The air barely stirred. The invisible intruder slipped inside, pausing for ten full seconds at the threshold to ensure there were no magical tripwires before gliding toward the console.
His target: the original design schematics for the Aether-Steam Turbine v3.0 laying on the table.
I sat with my back to the door, my finger resting on a toggle beneath the desk. The moment his hand reached for the paper, I flipped the switch.
CLACK—WHIRRR!!!
Four High-Lumen Xenon Strobe Arrays ignited simultaneously without warning. 20,000 lumens of raw industrial glare turned the control room into a white purgatory.
“Hiss—!”
A sharp, serpentine intake of breath erupted behind me. Under the direct assault of the high-intensity light, the shadow energy cloaking the intruder evaporated like boiling water. A thin, reedy silhouette was forced into the light. He wore skin-tight obsidian fabric, his skin as pale as cave-dwelling fungi. He clamped his arms over his eyes, his body convulsing from the photic shock.
“...Light. Too... bright,” he choked out, stumbling back toward the door.
He hit a wall. A wall made of muscle and steel.
“Hey there, little rat.” Brad stood in the doorway, tower shield raised, his massive shadow swallowing the intruder whole.
The intruder hissed, a black dagger in his hand erupting with dark energy. “...Move. Shadow... Blast.”
Poof. The ball of shadow energy was devoured by the strobe light before it even left the blade, leaving nothing but a wisp of grey smoke.
“There are no shadows here,” I said, swiveling my chair around. I looked at the battered figure with a flat, analytical gaze. “Your parlor tricks have been Nullified.”
The intruder froze. He looked at the encroaching Brad, then at the light array that left zero blind spots. “...Umbra. Do not... surrender.” He kept his head down, his voice a low, grating rasp—the sound of someone who hadn't spoken to another human in years. “...Kill me.”
“An Umbra?” I raised an eyebrow. My mind flashed back to the legends Zayla had mentioned—the Ghosts of the Old Era, the premier executioners of the Dragon Empire. “Brad, tie him up. Use the industrial-grade zip ties. The insulated ones.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Ten minutes later, the strobes were off, replaced by standard lighting. The assassin, whose name I learned was Mykra, was bound to a chair.
He wasn't as composed as I expected. He kept his head down, eyes glued to the floor, curling his body as if trying to hide in a shadow that didn't exist. Severe Social Avoidance Disorder. I sat opposite him, twirling the obsidian dagger we’d confiscated. The material was strange—like solidified smoke, impossibly light.
“Umbra...” I broke the silence. “Zayla told me about you. The Executioners of the Dragon Empire. The pinnacle of assassination.” Mykra’s body flinched, the word 'glory' clearly striking a nerve. “But that was two hundred years ago.” My tone sharpened. “Now, you’re practically extinct, aren't you?”
Mykra snapped his head up, his dead-fish eyes bloodshot and full of venom. “...You think... you can judge... us?”
“I’m stating a Technical Fact.” I stood up and walked to the infrared sensor, tapping the casing. “Why did you fall? Not because you got weak, but because the Era changed. Your Shadow Meld is a form of Passive Camouflage. In the old days, when people relied on eyes and ears, you were invincible. But then the Storm Clan developed Mana Detection Grids. The Dragons developed Full-Enclosure Physical Shields.”
“It’s simple,” I continued, using a metaphor he could grasp. “Everyone started wearing iron plate and installing radar, while you were still practicing how to walk softly. A Technology Gap. That’s why you became stray dogs.”
Mykra’s breathing grew ragged, his cheeks flushing with anger and shame. He tried to retort, but only a dry clicking sound came from his throat. I had hit the mark. No merchant guild wanted to hire an assassin who couldn't even get past the front gate. The Umbra weren't dying from war; they were dying from Unemployment and Starvation.
“...Obsolete. Yes.” He finally slumped, head dropping as he bit his knuckles. “...Useless. We are... useless.” He paused, then looked at my boots, his voice rapid and obsessive. “Why... could you see? Light blocked. Mana blocked. Why?”
“Because you have a body temperature.” I pointed to the sensor. “Heat. Radiation. Laws of Physics. As long as your blood is warm, you are a glowing red target in this box. It’s called Thermal Imaging. A detection method that requires zero mana.”
Mykra’s eyes, previously dull, ignited with a terrifying intensity. “...Heat? No... mana? Principles? How? Blueprints?”
“That’s what I want to discuss.” I slapped a sketch of an Active Phased Array Radar in front of him. “I won't teach you magic. I’ll teach you Engineering. Physics. Infrared optics. I’ll teach you how to use Frequency Jamming to paralyze a mage’s detection grid.”
Mykra stared at the drawing. He couldn't understand the math, but he could feel the logic—the kind of logic that could flip his world upside down. A sickly flush returned to his pale face. If they mastered this... could the Umbra return to the top of the food chain?
“...Want to learn.” The words tumbled out, followed by a stuttering hesitation. “...Price? Soul? Money?”
“I want you.” I opened the System panel and manifested a Subordination Contract (Forced Constraint). “Sign this. Three years of service to Skyreach. Be my Intelligence Officer.”
Mykra looked at the glowing golden scroll. A slave contract. He hesitated.
“Brad,” I said flatly.
“Ready!” Brad raised his trench shovel. “Boss, where we burying him? The septic tank or the boiler room?”
Mykra shuddered. He looked at the menacing Brad, then back at the seductive infrared sensor. For an exile obsessed with technique who had no place in the current world, this wasn't even a choice. He bit his finger and slammed a bloody print onto the scroll before I could change my mind. “...Three years. Then... blueprints... mine.”
Hummm— The contract sealed.
“Deal.” I snipped his zip-ties. Mykra rubbed his wrists, leaped off the chair, and vanished into the darkest corner of the room. He only seemed comfortable in the dark. “Now, get to work. Storm Clan scouts are in the upper atmosphere. Find them. Use your senses, synchronized with my thermal imaging.”
A pale hand reached out from the shadows, snatching the infrared sensor like a thief before retreating. “...Parsing. Heat source locked. Mana... reverse tracking. Simple. Very... simple.”
He fiddled with the device, then looked up from the corner, his dead eyes fixed on me with a creepy, jagged grin. “...This thing. Useful. But... I am... more useful.”
Looking at the freak giggling in the corner with a sensor, Brad and I shared a glance. Brad rubbed the goosebumps on his arm. “Boss... who’s going to manage this guy? I am not sharing a bunk with that creep.”
I took a sip of the remaining cold coffee. “I’ll handle him. As long as I give him blueprints and shadows, he’s the sharpest blade we have.”
Question of the Day: What’s the first "Industrial Gadget" Alex should build for Mykra to enhance his stealth?
?? A) Digital Night-Vision Goggles.
Enhanced Scouting. Mykra can see in total darkness without using mana, making him undetectable to magical sensors.
?? B) A High-Frequency Vibration Dagger.
Lethality. A blade that vibrates at 40kHz can slice through enchanted armor like warm butter.
?? C) Portable Signal Jammer.
The Engineer's Choice. An area-of-effect device that collapses all magical communication and detection within 50 meters. Pure chaos.
Follow and Rate for more industrial madness!