[HOST INTEGRITY: 23%] [LOCATION: THE LAST STOP FACTORY - COURTYARD] [TIME: 09:15 AM]
Rain washed the glowing green sludge down the rusted storm drains.
The Nine Pillars of Punishment stood dormant, their white fire extinguished. Only the residual heat remained, baking the wet concrete and filling the courtyard with thick, choking steam.
Four Iron-Husked Myrmidons dragged a massive, two-ton mechanical heart across the mud. The massive pump was pitted with rust and stained with black blood. It scraped against the ground, leaving a trail of dead grass and sizzling puddles.
Jian stood under the awning, holding a cracked tablet. He wiped a drop of dirty rain off his glasses.
"Ren, the postal service won't touch this."
Jian pointed at the massive iron organ. The Myrmidons were currently lifting it, dropping it heavily into a giant wooden shipping crate. The impact cracked the wooden base.
"It weighs two tons," Jian said, his voice tight. "It's leaking highly corrosive stomach acid. The courier guilds will classify this as a biological weapon. We can't mail a monster."
Ren Wu stood beside him, watching the rain hit the black umbrella over his head.
"We don't use couriers," Ren said.
He closed the umbrella. He looked at Red Dog, who stood at the front of the formation. The seven-foot iron giant did not flinch as a drop of stray acid hit his matte-black shoulder armor. It just hissed and evaporated.
"Red Dog," Ren commanded.
The massive iron soldier turned. His golden eyes burned through the steam.
"Deliver the package."
The Ivory Tower
[LOCATION: ALCHEMIST CONSORTIUM HQ - PENTHOUSE]
The air conditioning in Section Chief Zhao's office blew freezing cold.
The room was a monument to sterile wealth. White marble floors. Glass walls overlooking the smog of Sector 9. A massive desk carved from the bone of a slain deep-sea beast.
Right now, the room flashed with red emergency lights.
Zhao stood over a holographic tactical table. His hands gripped the edge of the projector so hard his knuckles were white. Sweat dripped down his neck, freezing against his silk collar.
On the map, the massive green signal designating Subject 0-Omega flickered.
Then, it turned grey.
Then, it vanished.
"Check the feed!" Zhao barked, spittle flying from his lips. "Recalibrate the sensors! A Level 40 Abomination doesn't just die in twenty minutes! It had a necrotic healing factor! Did he drop a tactical bomb on it?!"
The technicians in the room typed frantically.
"Sir," a tech whispered, his voice shaking. "The bio-monitor is flatline. The beast is dead. The entire strike force... the biomatter... it's just gone."
Zhao stared at the empty map.
The factory was still there. The green dot was not.
"Impossible," Zhao breathed.
The Front Door
[LOCATION: ALCHEMIST CONSORTIUM HQ - LOBBY]
CRASH.
The reinforced glass doors of the Ivory Tower exploded inward. Shards of thick safety glass rained across the pristine marble floor like diamonds.
Red Dog stepped inside.
He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't run. He just walked. He dragged a massive steel chain over his right shoulder. The links were as thick as a man's wrist.
The automated security system triggered instantly.
Warning sirens wailed. Four ceiling panels dropped, revealing heavy rotary machine guns.
BRRRRRRT.
Armor-piercing rounds slammed into Red Dog. Sparks showered the lobby, illuminating his impassive iron face. The bullets hit his chest, flattened against his Tier-2 husk, and dropped to the marble floor like discarded coins. He didn't even blink. He didn't raise his arms to block.
He kept walking.
Behind him, attached to the heavy chain, dragged the massive wooden shipping crate. It screeched against the marble, gouging deep, ugly white scars into the perfect stone floor.
The lobby guards scattered, dropping their shock-batons and running for the stairwells.
Red Dog reached the main reception desk. The clerk, a pale ghost in a sharp suit, was pressed against the back wall, hyperventilating.
Red Dog let the chain drop.
He raised his right fist and slammed it down onto the marble counter. The stone cracked perfectly in half, the fissure running straight to the clerk's feet.
"Delivery for Section Chief Zhao," Red Dog's voice rumbled, sounding like two grinding millstones.
He pointed a thick, iron finger at the terrified clerk.
"Sign here."
The Unboxing
[LOCATION: ZHAO'S OFFICE]
The heavy wooden crate sat in the exact center of Zhao's expensive white carpet.
Six Elite Enforcers stood in a circle around the box. Their assault rifles were raised, safeties off, fingers hovering over the triggers. They looked at the wood like it was going to explode.
Zhao stood behind his desk, a heavy energy pistol gripped in his sweating hand.
"Open it," Zhao ordered.
Two Enforcers stepped forward. They wedged thick steel crowbars under the nailed lid. They pushed down. Wood splintered and shrieked.
The lid fell away, hitting the floor with a heavy clatter.
A suffocating wave of sulfur, ozone, and rotting meat flooded the sterile office. Two of the guards immediately gagged, stumbling backward.
Zhao walked slowly around the desk. He looked down into the crate.
Sitting in the splinters was the massive, rusted mechanical heart of Subject 0-Omega. It was coated in black, coagulated blood and pitted with acid burns.
As Zhao stared at it, the massive pump gave one final, weak thump.
A single drop of glowing green acid spit from a severed valve. It landed on Zhao's white carpet. It hissed violently, burning a black, smoking hole straight through the fabric and into the floorboards beneath.
Nailed directly into the rusted steel of the heart was a piece of cheap, wrinkled paper.
Zhao reached down. His hand trembled. He pulled the paper free. The edges of the paper were charred.
He read the messy, handwritten text.
"Invoice for Hazardous Waste Disposal. Billed to Section Chief Zhao. Pay in Karma, or we collect in blood. — The Ministry."
In the bottom right corner of the paper, glowing with a faint, terrifying heat, was a perfect, square red stamp.
The Tiger Seal.
The Quarantine
Zhao dropped the paper.
It fluttered to the floor, landing next to the hissing pool of acid.
His legs stopped working. He fell backward, hitting his leather chair hard. He didn't look at his guards. He didn't look at the map. He just stared at the rotting, mechanical organ sitting in his office.
Ren Wu hadn't fought a desperate battle for survival.
He had performed a sanitation job. He had treated the Consortium's ultimate nightmare like a clogged drain, and then he had billed them for the labor.
The illusion broke. The Alchemist Consortium was not the apex predator in Sector 9 anymore. They were just bad tenants waiting for the eviction notice.
"Chief?"
The lead Enforcer stepped forward, his rifle lowering. He looked at Zhao, waiting for orders.
"Do we... do we mobilize the garrison? Send the heavy infantry to the factory?"
Zhao slowly turned his head. He looked out the glass wall, down at the sprawling, smog-choked expanse of Sector 9. He could see the faint, golden smoke rising from the Last Stop Factory in the distance.
"No."
Zhao's voice was completely dead. The arrogance was burned out of him.
"You don't send soldiers into a meat grinder. He owns the streets. He owns the air."
Zhao reached across his desk. He opened a small, locked glass box built into the wood. Inside was a single, heavy red switch. It was the emergency protocol. The final option.
"If we send troops, he will just butcher them and build more iron soldiers," Zhao whispered.
He pressed his palm flat against the red switch.
"Seal the spatial gates. Cut the power grid to the Undermarket. Shut down the water purifiers."
The Enforcer went pale. "Sir... that will kill millions of ghosts. The Upper Layer will—"
Zhao slammed his hand down.
The red lights in the office turned blinding white. Alarms shrieked across the entire headquarters.
"I don't care," Zhao hissed, staring at the rusted heart bleeding onto his floor. "If we can't kill the rat... we starve the cage."
[AUTHOR NOTE]
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Zhao: "I sent a Level 40 monster to kill you!" Ren Wu: "I charge a 15% disposal fee for unauthorized dumping." Zhao: Aggressive sweating.
Next Chapter: The Worship. The spatial gates lock. The power goes out. The Consortium thinks they can starve Sector 9 into submission. They forgot one thing: Ren Wu isn't just a Warlord anymore. The citizens are about to give him something far more dangerous than money.
The Siege begins! Drop a Power Stone to hold the line! 📦🔥