The control room was unlit. The only illumination came from a row of monitors taped to makeshift brackets, their blue phosphor glow reflecting off the heavy ballistic glass. In that light, my face—pale from days of sleep deprivation—looked like a ghost haunting its own machine.
The familiar low-frequency hum vibrated through the floorboards—the sound of the No. 1 Generator running in the basement. It was the mechanical heartbeat of this industrial city, the only thing providing a sense of security in this collapsing wasteland. But tonight, the vibration felt abrasive, every pulse grinding against my frayed nerves.
The screens didn't show architectural blueprints. Instead, they displayed a real-time feed of Wide-Area Infrared Thermal Imaging.
I had traded a significant amount of System Credits for these industrial-grade security sensors. The resolution was trash, the screen was a mess of grey-white grain, and the feed flickered whenever the voltage fluctuated, but in the pitch black of the barrens, anything with a body temperature had nowhere to hide.
In the grainy thermal view, thirteen crimson heat signatures stood out like open wounds.
They were moving through the blind spots behind the barracks, navigating like lost souls with nowhere to go. The lead figure was smaller, but moved with a predatory grace, cutting through the dark with the speed of a black panther.
It was Zayla.
She had left after all.
Despite me telling her it was a suicide mission. Despite me showing her the final data from the civilian drone—a high-energy mana signature at Supply Station No. 7—she had chosen to take her "Shadow Blade" team for a night raid anyway.
My finger hovered over a large red button on the right side of the console. The City-Wide Emergency Alert. If I pressed it, the searchlights on the three towers would pin them down instantly. The Heavy Guard on patrol would intercept them within five minutes. I was the Architect of this city; I had the authority.
But my fingers remained locked, frozen in the air.
Hiss—
The pneumatic door behind me cycled open, breaking the deathly silence of the room.
“...You can’t sleep either, can you?”
I didn't turn around. I recognized the heavy tread. Brad walked in carrying two cans of "Dirt Beer" made from fermented local fruit. He was wearing nothing but a loose tank top, his rock-solid muscles exposed, but he was clutching a radio—he was as keyed up as I was.
“I took a walk around the garage,” Brad said, placing a can by my hand with a sharp crack as he pulled the tab. He dragged a chair over, the metal groaning under his weight. “I saw them mobilizing. And... I made sure to check the chassis of that supply wagon they’re taking. The 'cargo' is in place.”
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He paused, his calloused hand crushing the aluminum can slightly. His tone turned conflicted. “Boss, this ‘hiding grenades under your girlfriend's car’ thing... it’s giving me the creeps. I lay in bed, and every time I close my eyes, I feel like I'm sending them to their deaths. I couldn't sleep a wink.”
I picked up the beer. The cold condensation made my fingertips feel alive again. “It’s not sending them to their deaths. It’s giving them a back door.”
I finally turned to look at him. “Since you’re here, sit down and watch.”
Brad sighed, took a long swig of the brew, and turned his gaze to the flickering screen. “You’re just going to let it happen? That’s Zayla out there. You know what the Storm Clan has deployed at Station 7. What if it’s a trap?”
“It is a trap,” I said. My voice was so calm it actually scared me. “But I can’t stop her. Brad, don’t you understand her yet? She’s a Queen. Her logic is still stuck in the age of cold steel. She worships personal valor and tricks played in the shadows.”
I pointed at the red dots fading into the distance on the monitor. “If I don't let her hit the wall, if she doesn't see for herself what Multi-Dimensional Warfare and Air Superiority look like, she’ll never truly follow my lead. She’ll keep believing she’s right, right up until the day she leads her entire race into extinction.”
“There are lessons I can’t teach her. Only the enemy’s bloody whip can wake her up.”
Brad was silent for a long time. He looked at me like I was a stranger, a monster he didn't recognize, but eventually, he shook his head with a tired grin. “Fine. I guess you’re the designated bad guy for this project.”
He stared at the tiny red speck about to vanish from the radar’s edge. “Do you think she’ll make it?”
“I’ve already placed my bet.” I opened the drawer beside me and pulled out a neatly folded sheet. It wasn't an architectural blueprint. It was an Emergency Rescue Route.
It was covered in dense markings: the best artillery positions, the travel path for the Land Crawler Mk.I, and the three most likely ambush points the Storm Clan would use. I had calculated every turn, every piece of cover. I looked at the red number flashing on my System panel.
Survival Probability Prediction: 12.4%.
“Twelve percent...” I muttered to myself. “Even if it was one percent, I’m pulling her back.”
I slid the map to Brad. “Stop trying to sleep. Go get your heavy armor on, and grab that tower shield—the best one Bjorn modified. If my calculations are right... We’re going to be very busy around 5:00 AM.”
Brad looked at the map—so detailed it was almost pathological. The anxiety in his eyes finally dissipated, replaced by a relieved smirk. “I knew it... You’re a soft-hearted bastard. Talking all that ‘let her hit the wall’ trash while you’ve already got the ambulance gassed up.”
He tossed the empty can into the trash with surgical precision, stood up, and clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll get ready. The moment you say go, we’ll tear a hole in the damn sky.”
As Brad left, the control room returned to its deathly silence. The red dots on the screen flickered one last time and vanished into the vast barrens, leaving only endless darkness and static noise.
I picked up the bitter coffee and drained it in one gulp.
Question of the Day: How should Alex initiate the rescue mission when things inevitably go south?
?? A) The "Steel Rain" Approach: Long-range mortar bombardment.
Stay safe behind the walls and provide fire support. High efficiency, but risky for Zayla's team if the coordinates are off.
?? B) The "Cavalry Charge": Drive the Land Crawler Mk.I directly into the base.
Violent, direct, and loud. Show the Storm Clan that gravity isn't the only thing that can crush them.
?? C) The "Shadow Backup": Use the new stealth tech to pull them out.
The Engineer's Choice. Use the prototype cloaking and distraction drones to rescue them without starting a full-scale war.
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