An hour in a ventilation shaft feels like an eternity.
It's cramped. It's dusty. And the only entertainment is watching bored-looking robotic arms scoop grey nutrient paste into serving trays.
Lin Ming was starting to regret not bringing a book.
He lay there, perfectly still, a ghost in the machine, listening to the monotonous hum of the fortress. It was the calm before the storm. A very... intestinal storm.
He checked the time on his HUD. 18:00. Dinnertime.
Down below, the first wave of off-duty Madakaros soldiers started filing into the massive mess hall adjacent to the food facility. They were laughing, complaining about their sergeants, and lining up for their evening meal, completely oblivious.
Lin Ming watched them through the grate, a small, predatory smile on his face. "Bon appétit, fellas."
In a command post five kilometers away, Quynh Nhu was getting restless. She was lying prone on a rocky outcrop, her rifle trained on the fortress gate. Pham Tuan was sitting nearby, looking like a grumpy, man-shaped boulder.
"I'm bored," she announced over their private comms. "This is the worst part of any plan. The waiting. My trigger finger is getting itchy."
"Patience, Hawkeye," Pham Tuan rumbled. "The Leader knows what he's doing."
"I know he knows what he's doing," she retorted. "I'm just worried about how he's doing it. His last plan involved weaponized hay fever. I have a reputation to maintain. I can't be part of a team whose primary tactic is aggressive biological warfare via pollen."
Minerva's voice cut in, crisp and clear in their earpieces. "My projections indicate the laxative agent, designated 'Project Brown Note', will begin to take effect in approximately T-minus ten minutes. Widespread physiological responses are expected."
"Project Brown Note'?" Quynh Nhu snorted. "Minerva, you're a genius. A sick, twisted, but brilliant genius."
Back in the fortress, the first signs of trouble began to appear.
It started subtly.
A soldier in the mess hall suddenly paused mid-sentence, a confused look on his face. He put a hand on his stomach. He made a low, gurgling sound. His comrades looked at him, puzzled.
"Are you okay, Klarg?" one of them asked.
Klarg didn't answer. His three eyes went wide. A bead of sweat trickled down his grey forehead. He suddenly stood up, knocking over his chair, and began to walk very, very carefully towards the latrines.
Then, two tables over, another soldier made the same low, gurgling sound.
Then another.
And another.
Within five minutes, a low, ominous rumble could be heard throughout the entire mess hall. It was the collective sound of thousands of alien digestive systems simultaneously declaring war on their owners.
The careful walking turned into panicked waddling. The waddling turned into a full-blown, desperate sprint.
The mess hall, once a place of calm dinnertime chatter, descended into pure, unadulterated chaos. A tidal wave of terrified Madakaros soldiers stampeded towards the latrines, a look of existential dread on their faces.
Lin Ming watched from the rafters, shaking his head in grim satisfaction. "Phase one is a success."
The fortress's internal comms network crackled to life.
"Medical alert! We have a mass casualty event in Mess Hall One! All medics report immediately!"
"What kind of casualties?!"
"Gastrointestinal! A lot of gastrointestinal casualties! It's... oh gods, it's everywhere!"
From her hidden position, Quynh Nhu was listening in, courtesy of Minerva. She was trying so hard not to laugh that she was vibrating. "Oh, this is better than I ever imagined. This is art."
The chaos was not confined to the mess hall.
Inquisitor Vex was in the Chamber of Echoes, deep within the mountain, meditating. He was trying to attune his spirit to the whispers of the stone, to prepare for his glorious ascension.
But his meditation was being rudely interrupted.
GURGLE.
He frowned, his three eyes twitching. He tried to ignore it. He was a Peak Golden Core master, a being of immense spiritual power. He was above such... mortal frailties.
RUMBLE. GURGLE. GURGLE.
His stomach sounded like a backed-up sewer pipe playing a drum solo. He had had a small bowl of the nutrient paste before his meditation. It had tasted a bit... off.
He clenched his fists, his face turning a shade of purple. "Discipline," he hissed to himself. "Mind over matter. The flesh is weak, but the spirit is..."
GURGLE-RUMBLE-GURGLE!
Discipline be damned.
Inquisitor Vex, the feared Soul Drinker, the master of psychic arts, leaped to his feet and sprinted out of his sacred chamber, a look of pure, unholy terror on his face.
The signal. It was time.
Lin Ming dropped silently from the rafters into the now-deserted kitchen. He moved with purpose, heading for the main courtyard of the fortress. He knew that when the signal came, every guard still capable of standing would be focused on the main gate. The fortress interior would be a ghost town.
He reached the courtyard. It was vast and empty. In the center, a large, intimidating statue of the first Madakaros emperor stood, looking stern and majestic.
Lin Ming looked up at the open Martian sky. He took a deep breath.
He began to gather his Qi. Not the subtle, quiet Qi of Earth or Water. He gathered the pure, explosive power of his Fairy Qi and the primal strength of his Dragon's Blood.
A swirling sphere of crimson and gold energy, crackling with power, formed in his palm. The Long Tien Cau.
It grew brighter, more intense, a miniature sun in the heart of the enemy fortress.
He channeled all his strength, all his will, all his righteous fury into his voice. He threw his head back and bellowed a single, glorious, universe-shaking word into the sky.
"RASENGAN!!!"
The sound echoed off the mountain walls, a defiant human roar in the heart of the alien stronghold.
He hurled the sphere upwards. It shot into the sky like a reverse meteor, detonating high above the fortress in a spectacular, beautiful explosion of crimson and gold light. It was a firework display announcing that the party had truly begun.
Five kilometers away, Quynh Nhu saw the explosion. She heard the faint but unmistakable roar.
She turned to Pham Tuan, a wild, manic grin on her face. "You heard the man. Let's go make some noise."
Inside the fortress latrines, a hundred Madakaros soldiers, all sitting in a state of profound misery, heard the distant cry.
They looked at each other, their faces pale and sweaty.
One of them, his voice weak and trembling, asked the question that was on everyone's mind.
"...What's a Rasengan?"