Chapter 302: Chapter 302

The twins took point as the Complaints Department exited the crumbling facility. They had set up the escape route long before the operation even began, mapping it through every corridor, broken stairwell, and fractured pressure gate. Vaeliyan wasn’t the only one who believed in always knowing the way out before stepping into chaos. The twins had learned that lesson early and lived by it. They had planned this evacuation route with Elian at their side, who had been quietly impressed by how thorough their preparations were. He hadn’t expected the twins to think in such cold, mathematical precision; they had mapped their retreat as if they’d already seen it happen. They treated strategy the way most people treated survival: instinctive, relentless, and absolute. It was not cleverness, but discipline, the art of living through what others would die in.

The air trembled with distant detonations as the facility groaned under its own weight. But where the world began to fail, the team’s power rose to fill the gaps. Elian’s newest stage of his Will was the key to their calm. His fourth stage allowed his Will to extend outward into matter, binding broken metal and fractured walls with invisible density, reinforcing structures that had no right to be standing. Every breath he took pulled the building back into alignment. The cracks in the walls paused mid-split, shuddering like living things before freezing solid, suspended between life and ruin. Whole sections of ceiling hung mid-collapse, waiting for gravity’s permission to fall, but gravity no longer made decisions here. Elian’s Will overruled it. The ruin refused to finish dying until he allowed it to.

Wesley amplified that effect by magnitudes. His Hungering Flame fed on the reach of Elian’s Will and forced it wider, faster, and deeper. It didn’t heal or comfort. It devoured restriction. The Flame didn’t touch thought or body; it magnified intent itself, taking Elian’s expanding pressure and burning away its limits. Every pulse of Will Wesley touched caught fire, igniting into something sharper, more consuming. The Hungering Flame turned Will into momentum, unstoppable, relentless, hungry for more. It licked through the collapsing corridors, consuming hesitation, spreading Elian’s command through stone and steel until the whole facility thrummed with that borrowed willpower. The building stood only because two powers refused to let it surrender.

Torman added another layer of unnatural endurance. His fourth stage threads dug deep into the bones of the structure, weaving nanite fibers through the kalacrete and metal like veins of living steel. The walls shivered as his control fused with Elian’s, black filaments crawling through cracks, stitching stress fractures shut and tying the framework together at a molecular level. The fibers crawled upward toward the surface, binding the entire foundation into one seamless weave. To the untrained eye, it looked like the building had healed itself. In truth, it had been claimed. The structure was no longer the corpse of human engineering; it was an extension of the Department’s collective will. Every groan, every shudder, was a heartbeat in their favor. For every inch the facility tried to die, Torman’s threads made it live one second longer.

Chime and Vaeliyan were the last to add their influence to the evacuation. Vaeliyan flooded the corridors with pressure, pushing outward in waves that diffused the stress across the entire collapsing space. He acted as a damper, his field absorbing concussive force and redirecting it away from Elian’s primary stabilizations. Every movement of his body changed the air, thickening, reshaping, stabilizing. His presence became a counterweight to destruction itself. The walls bowed inward, but his pressure field bowed them back out, sculpting the air into invisible pillars. Even the sound of the collapse seemed slower, muffled beneath the weight of his control.

Chime’s contribution came without sound, her Soul Skill humming beneath the range of human hearing. She reached into the remaining defense systems and dormant munitions scattered throughout the wreckage. Each weapon, each explosive, each security lock, all of them listened to sound, and Chime’s silence rewrote what they heard. She shifted the activation tones that commanded their detonation, moving the pitch of destruction just far enough out of reach. The result was eerie. The facility’s munitions still waited for the order to explode, but they would never receive it. The last gasps of the installation were trapped behind frequencies that no longer existed. She sang the silence that kept them alive.

Together, they walked through destruction as though it bowed to them. Fire burned without heat along their path. Falling debris stilled in midair before drifting aside. The air was thick with ash and amber light, but the weight of their combined fields parted it like mist. The corridors trembled but never gave way, every vibration redirected, every shock absorbed. They did not run, did not flinch, did not speak. To them, this was not escape, it was procession. The world cracked, groaned, and broke around them, but it never dared to fall until the Complaints Department had passed through completely, leaving silence and ruin in their wake. And when they stepped into the open light beyond, the last surviving beams of the facility finally caved inward, collapsing neatly behind them like a stage curtain closing on a performance already finished. The source of this content ɪs N0velFire.ɴet

As they entered the Boltfire and Chime made her way to the cockpit, Vaeliyan called out, “Does anybody have any idea where we’re supposed to take this thing? Did High Commander Ruka send us an update?”

Chime’s voice came through over the internal comms, her tone half-distracted as she activated the silent ignition. The Boltfire rose without a sound, cutting through the air like a ghost. “Uh, she said to report in once we’re in the air with the asset. She’ll give us the drop location then.”

Vaeliyan nodded. “Good, because I want to get this thing out of here and never think about it again.”

Vaeliyan made his way down to the med bay. The lights dimmed automatically as he entered, casting sterile blue reflections across reinforced glass. The containment pod dominated the room, heavy metal, clear walls, and stabilizer lines that pulsed faintly with green light. Inside, the asset floated in viscous gel, a bloated, corpse-looking man with swollen limbs and mottled skin. The body was still, but the sensors along the chamber frame showed irregular movement, something inside the mass shifting faintly.

Vaeliyan stood there for a long moment, uneasy. His gut told him that the corpse wasn’t the asset. The real thing, the real danger, was inside it. The thought of what that might be set a cold ache under his ribs. He stepped closer, studying the distortion beneath the flesh, and felt his stomach drop. The shape inside wasn’t human.

He finally said it out loud. “You’re dead, aren’t you? Just the wrapper.”

The thing didn’t move, but the monitor lights spiked for half a second. He grimaced and grabbed a tranquilizer from the medisynth. He jabbed it through the containment port with practiced precision. The body twitched, bubbles rolling through the fluid, then settled. Still unsatisfied, he loaded another injector and hit it again. Then, out of pure paranoia, he pulled a third one from the rack and pushed it through the same port. “For good luck,” he muttered, stepping back.

As he walked toward the hatch, he hesitated, turned around, and jabbed it a fourth time, just in case.

“Vaeliyan,” Chime’s voice came through the comms, half amused and half alarmed. “I can see what you’re doing, and I really don’t think another one of those would be… wise. Its vitals are already spiking. Well, I think those are vitals. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m looking at.”

“Yeah,” Vaeliyan replied, leaning against the doorway. “That’s because I think it’s a four-eyed toad man.”

There was a pause. “What the fuck do you mean, a four-eyed toad man?”

“I think whatever’s inside that corpse is some evolved version of a four-eyed toad. They’ve probably been feeding it for way longer than anything should’ve survived. It’s not normal anymore. It’s something else.”

“Something else like what?” Chime asked.

“Something that shouldn’t be alive,” he said flatly. His eyes flicked to the monitor readouts again, watching the strange pulse shift through the gel. “The program’s still running, right?”

Ramis’s voice came through from engineering, static cutting across his words. “Yeah, it’s always running. It activates anytime we start talking about things that seem non–Legion approved. So pretty much whenever you open your mouth, Captain.” He laughed dryly.

“Good,” Vaeliyan muttered, his tone darkening. “Because this shit is fucked up, it belongs to Du-Mat, the Beast God.”

The silence that followed was absolute. The words drifted through the air like an arrow through the void.

Vaeliyan continued, his voice quieter but edged with certainty. “There’s no way Du-Mat’s contender would be a corpse. She’s the Beast God. Her contender would be alive. Violent. Hungry. It has to be at least sentient. That’s why I think what’s inside there isn’t just a creature. It’s a four-eyed toad that’s been feeding on that corpse for far too long. The Princedom was doing time experiments, accelerating things, twisting development. They sped it up past where it should’ve stopped. They changed it. Maybe even mixed human DNA into it.”

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He exhaled slowly. “That’s corpse isn't the asset. That’s a man-shaped four-eyed toad container. A container built to host Du-Mat’s will. And if that thing wakes up, we’ll see what kind of monster the Beast God calls worthy.”

No one replied. The silence that followed wasn’t just fear, it was the perfect quiet of the Boltfire itself, carrying the weight of something born from a god’s appetite.

Elian came up to Vaeliyan, his tone casual but precise, that quiet kind of directness he used whenever something actually mattered. “Did you happen to send in that request form for the power to your house? The one to run a line through the Red to Mara?”

Vaeliyan didn’t look up right away. The display in front of him shimmered faintly, charts and approval seals drifting past. “Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “Along with starting to file the first of my ownership claims for Mara.”

“Good.” Elian crossed his arms, the faintest edge of a grin forming. “You’re following the plan. Doing it slow so it doesn’t look like you took over an entire city overnight, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not an idiot,” Vaeliyan replied, tone dry but calm. “And I trust you know more about this bureaucratic crap than I ever will. Even if my AI’s been flooding me with information about everything it thinks I should know.”

Elian tilted his head slightly, curious. “Still doing that, huh?”

“It never stops,” Vaeliyan said, rubbing his temple. “At first, it was useful. After it fully integrated, it started feeding me all this material about politics, history, and the etiquette that matters in the Green. It throws maps at me, archived territorial data, noble genealogies, economic reports. It’s like living with a historian that won’t shut up. Every time I think I understand something, it opens another file and explains why I don’t.”

Elian chuckled quietly. “So, it’s building you up faster than you can process.”

Vaeliyan shook his head. “No, that’s the problem here. It’s feeding me exactly at the rate I can process. And now that I’ve got four layers of my mind running in sync, it’s keeping pace perfectly. It’s never behind. It’s always there, right at the edge, pushing information faster than I can rest.” He leaned back slightly, expression unreadable. “It’s not overloading me. It’s matching me. That’s worse.”

Elian’s brow furrowed. “You’re really keeping that stable?”

“For now,” Vaeliyan said. “It’s like having a second Isol in there, one that keeps reminding me how to play a game I never wanted to play. It teaches me how to act, who to respect, who to ignore, how to smile at the wrong people without offending them. It’s not telling me how to live, it’s teaching me how to survive the politics of the Green.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “And it’s relentless. Doesn’t matter if I’m trying to sleep, it’s still in there, whispering about power shifts and historical precedents like I’m supposed to care.”

Elian nodded slowly, expression thoughtful. “That tracks. You don’t have the kind of cultural background it expects, so it’s compensating. It’s trying to make sure you don’t trip over the Green’s invisible rules. You’re basically being rebuilt for diplomacy.”

Vaeliyan gave a short, humorless laugh. “Diplomacy. Right. I know every noble House now and which ones are one insult away from war. I know which corps are pretending to be neutral and which ones want each other dead. It even warns me when I’m about to say something that sounds too Yellow. It’s exhausting. Like being on stage all the time.”

“That’s because it’s trying to make sure you live long enough to finish what you started,” Elian said. “It wants you to adapt faster than anyone else could. You’re lucky, honestly. Most people’s AI couldn’t do what your is doing for you.”

Vaeliyan glanced at him, a faint edge of amusement returning. “Lucky, huh? Doesn’t feel like it. Feels more like it’s rewriting me one thought at a time.”

“Maybe it is,” Elian said, smiling faintly. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? You’re the one who won. The AI’s doing what it was built to do, build winners. The rest of us? We got stuck with the versions that are barely more than training tools.”

Vaeliyan looked away, eyes distant, his voice quieter. “It’s strange. I know it’s helping me, I know it’s right about half of what it says… but sometimes it feels like it’s shaping me into something that doesn’t quite fit inside my own skin anymore.”

Elian’s voice softened. “That’s the Green for you. It teaches, it molds, it consumes. Just make sure when it’s done teaching, there’s still a part of you that remembers why you started.”

Vaeliyan’s expression steadied, the faintest smirk returning. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Elian nodded once, as if that settled it, and turned back toward the corridor. Vaeliyan stayed where he was, eyes lingering on the blank screen before him, mind already filling with the next lesson his AI was preparing to deliver.

Helen had just sent the coordinates. “We’re heading over to Orruvaal,” Vaeliyan said, glancing down at the incoming transmission with a mix of disbelief and irritation. “And I have no idea how this is supposed to work. I don’t even know if the Boltfire has underwater capabilities. As far as I’m aware, I’ve never tested that. Gods damn it.”

She’d sounded flustered in the message, rushed, maybe even nervous. The words had come clipped, her tone uneven. They had been flying toward Mara while waiting for High Commander Ruka’s drop location for the asset, and it had taken nearly ten long minutes before Helen finally responded. Now they had their destination, but not a single person aboard seemed convinced it was a good idea. The uncertainty hung in the cabin like static, alive and irritating.

Still, there was a quiet current of excitement running through the group. Orruvaal. The name alone carried weight. It was going to be the second major city most of them had ever seen, another of the Green Zone’s megacities, and even Vaeliyan and Jurpat couldn’t hide their curiosity. The thought of an entire metropolis resting beneath the sea defied logic, a marvel of arrogance, engineering, and human audacity. None of them really knew what to expect, which only made it worse.

“Under the Paranthian Sea,” Sylen muttered, leaning against the bulkhead. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lessa gave a small laugh from across the aisle, shaking her head. “You’d think they’d run out of ways to waste power.”

Vaeliyan smirked faintly. “Yeah. Great idea in theory. No idea how it works in practice.” He glanced toward the window, watching the clouds peel away beneath them. The distant shimmer of the Paranthian Sea caught thin light from the upper atmosphere, stretching endlessly across the horizon. “None of us have ever been there. Not really except lord Sarn.”

He gave a small, knowing shrug when the others glanced his way, unbothered by the attention. “Stupidly rich heads of Houses and their heirs get to go wherever the fuck they want,” Vaeliyan said before Elian could open his mouth. “The rest of us don’t exactly get tourism privileges.”

Elian grinned, leaning back lazily. “Yeah, well, you’re about to see it for yourself. Orruvaal’s different. You’ll see what real excess looks like.”

“Define excess,” Fenn muttered from the rear. “If it’s underwater and still standing, that already qualifies.”

Vaeliyan leaned back in his seat. “Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Can’t wait.”

Varnai looked over from her seat, brow furrowing. “Wait,” she said, “isn’t that where the Blue Citadel is?”

Jurpat blinked, tilting his head. “Yeah… yeah, I think it is.” He leaned forward, pulling up the city’s reference map. The glowing schematic stretched across the display. “That’s right. The Blue Citadel’s west. Orruvaal sits right under it. Whole district’s built around the outer support ring.”

A faint grin tugged at the corner of Vaeliyan’s mouth. “Maybe we can go find out what happened to Deic and Alex after they graduated. Maybe even see where they got stationed.” His tone carried something almost wistful beneath the dry delivery.

Jurpat made a low sound of agreement. “Wouldn’t mind checking in on those two. They deserved better than getting buried in our legacy.”

Chime, who had been listening from the pilot’s seat, spoke up quietly. “If they’re anywhere near the Blue, we’ll cross paths soon enough. Just hope Deic doesn't try punching Vael in the face again...”

Vaeliyan’s expression softening for a moment before he turned his attention back to the view outside. The ocean spread out beneath them like liquid sapphire, and somewhere far below waited a city built under pressure and arrogance. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe we’ll get finally see what happened with her.”

Chime said, “So, we’re over the location I received. Awaiting further instructions and setting the Boltfire to hover.” Her hands moved across the controls with practiced ease, and the ship held its position in perfect silence above the sea.

Moments later, each member of the Complaints Department received the same synchronized ping through their AIs. High Commander Ruka was requesting connection. Without hesitation, they all accepted. Vaeliyan brought her image up on the forward glass for everyone nearby to see.

“Greetings, High Commander Ruka,” Vaeliyan said evenly. “This is the Complaints Department. Mission complete.”

Ruka appeared as sharp and composed as ever, her voice clear and commanding. “Good work. I knew I would like you. Other than that ridiculous name of yours, you function fast. I’m impressed. You have the asset, I assume?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Vaeliyan confirmed.

“Excellent.” Ruka nodded once. “We’ll be there in a moment to collect you. You’re already on our radar. Hold position, and when we arrive, land on the platform.”

Chime cut in, “What platform, ma’am?”

Ruka’s smirk carried through the display. “Ah, this must be your first time coming to Orruvaal. You’ll see it in a moment. I’d hate to ruin the surprise. High Commander Ruka out.”

Before the feed cut, Ruka raised her hand in salute. “We are not human.”

The Complaints Department replied as one, fists to their chests. “We are Legion.” The display faded.

Vaeliyan glanced at the others. “Check the 360° glass.”

They moved to the viewing wall, which adjusted instantly. The transparent surface projected the image from beneath the Boltfire, showing the sea shifting far below. The motion was subtle at first, then impossible to miss, a massive structure rising toward them from the depths. The view made it look as if the ship itself were sinking while the world climbed to meet it.

The outline grew sharper as it ascended, water cascading from its surface in glittering sheets. The dome above it, entirely made of glass, split open in smooth mechanical sections, retracting to reveal a landing platform beneath, steel, glass, and dense alloy framing that caught the light in layered blue reflections. Rows of guidance beacons flickered alive, marking the perimeter with deep, rhythmic pulses.

This wasn’t the city proper. This was the entryway, the hangar gate, the first barrier between the ocean and Orruvaal itself. Even from here, they could see the faint hint of deeper structures below, hidden beneath layers of reinforced waterlocks and descending transport shafts. The true city was still far below.

Chime arched a brow, breaking the quiet. “Guess that’s where I’m landing.”

Vaeliyan gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Bring us in.”

She guided the Boltfire down through the last stretch, the vessel gliding toward the platform with the same silent confidence that defined it. The dome sealed behind them as they descended into the hangar bay, water rolling off in heavy waves before dispersing into the drain systems. The interior lights of the platform ignited in a soft sequence, pale gold and deep blue alternating like a heartbeat.