[Chapter 123. First Contact]
Searanox stood alone on the rocky shore, the rhythmic, heavy lapping of the massive lake against his boots the only sound in the sudden silence. His gaze swept across the crystal-clear water before settling on the jagged mountain range to his left—a massive geographical feature that simply had not existed in his mory of this region. The world had been stretched, folded, and rewritten.
He summoned four Interdiate Recon Drones, their sleek forms shimring into existence with a synchronized, silent high-pitched hum. At his ntal command, they shot off toward the horizon before spreading into a tight, interlocking formation. He adjusted their positions to ensure there were no gaps between their overlapping fields of vision. The drones began a complex orbital rotation around his position, each revolution expanding outward like ripples in a pond. After each complete circle, they widened their search radius and began the process anew. It was a systematic, radar-like sweep designed to map every speck of the unknown terrain in precise sections.
The sun bled below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep oranges, by the ti his tech points finally reached their maximum capacity again. The slow regeneration rate was a bottleneck, constantly offset by the high cost of maintaining four active drones, but it was a necessary investnt.
By the ti the first stars appeared, he had a complete layout of the region. The structures he had spotted in the distance were, as he had suspected, a city—or what remained of one.
The city looked like a relic from a history book on urban devastation. It was the skeleton of a civilization. Most buildings were nothing more than concrete fras, their empty windows staring like hollow eyes at the indifferent sky. Only a few structures appeared to be roughly intact, their facades scarred by fire and ti, yet still standing as bastions against the elents.
As his drones gathered data, Searanox confird what his instincts had already whispered: there were people living there. He couldn't determine their exact numbers or combat strength from the initial flyby, but what drew his attention more than the local population was the presence of two dungeons pulsing within the city's crumbling boundaries.
`The System wasn't lying, he thought, his eyes narrowing. There was indeed sothing of interest to here.`
As the drones completed their final sweep, they flagged one more anomaly that defied standard categorization. It wasn't a dungeon portal, yet its mana signature was off the charts. On his drones thermal and arcane sensors, it appeared as a radiant beacon, a pillar of light that outshone everything else in the imdiate vicinity.
With the mapping complete and the drones dismissed, his tech point regeneration returned to its baseline of 22 per minute.
Searanox summoned an Interdiate Travel Drone. He swung onto the ATV-inspired machine, its engines thrumming to life with a predatory growl as he steered it toward the skeletal skyline of the ruins.
The journey was brief; the drone covered the flat plains with deceptive, effortless speed. Darkness had fully claid the city by the ti he arrived, the ruined skyscrapers silhouetted against the moon's pale, cold light. To Searanox’s enhanced vision, the darkness posed no obstacle; he saw the cracked asphalt and hanging wires as clearly as if it were high noon.
Before entering the city limits, he dismounted and dismissed the drone, watching it dissolve into a cloud of cyan sparks.
`Stay calm.` He told himself, checking the seals on his gauntlets. `There is no guarantee they are stronger than you. Efficiency over emotion.`
He stepped forward, his stride asured and silent, entering the city on foot. He moved toward the coordinates of the first dungeon his drones had located. As he rounded a corner near a collapsed departnt store, a flickering, orange light cut through the gloom ahead.
The glow of a campfire.
When he ca within sight of the portal, he realized it wasn't a single fla, but a coordinated periter. A large bonfire blazed at the center of a clearing, with smaller iron braziers arranged around a swirling blue dungeon entrance. Four figures stood near the portal, their long shadows dancing wildly in the firelight.
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As he stepped into the circle of illumination, the silence was broken by the sharp, rhythmic groan of wood being drawn taut. Bows. He didn't need to look up to know archers were positioned in the ruins above—specifically in a building with a missing front wall that offered a perfect, elevated killing field over the clearing.
"Who goes there?"
The voice was rough, seasoned by grit and aggression. A figure stepped from the shadows beside the portal, the bonfire glinting off a crudely maintained halberd. His armor was a pathetic, mismatched ss—iron plates bolted haphazardly to stained leather straps.
Searanox continued his advance, the firelight revealing his pale skin and the subtle, elegant points of his ears. The guards stiffened at the sight.
"Never seen him," a second voice called from the ruins above. "Ain't one of the Boss's n."
`The Boss's n.` Searanox noted internally. `Hierarchy. Feudalism reborn in the ruins.`
"I’ve co from outside the city," Searanox said, his voice low, steady, and devoid of the tremors of fear they likely expected. "I’m not looking for trouble. But now that I see this dungeon… may I enter?"
"Not from around here, that’s for damn sure," the halberd-wielder grunted, wiping his nose with a gloved hand. "Only the Boss and his crew go into the dungeon. Nobody else. State your business or turn around."
"The Boss is inside now?" Searanox asked.
The archers above held their aim, the tension in the air as thick as the smoke from the bonfire. Before the leader could answer, another guard near the fire piped up. "Nah. Boss is at his residence. Probably drinking."
"You’re telling ," Searanox said, the temperature of his tone dropping into a cold, sharp edge, "that the dungeon simply sits here idle whenever your 'Boss' doesn't fancy using it? What a waste of potential."
Two of the guards exchanged a look. One of them began to move, then simply vanished into the shadows.
`Not the most welcoming committee.`
Searanox’s eyes drifted back to the portal, its blue energy pulsing like a heartbeat just beyond the ring of fire. Suddenly, a scream tore through the night air—raw, desperate, and abruptly cut short.
Searanox turned his head toward the sound, his vision scanning the darkness beyond the clearing. The guards didn't flinch. They continued their posturing as if they had heard nothing more than a stray dog.
"You're not concerned?" Searanox asked. "It could be a beast."
The halberd-wielder smirked. "We guard the portal. We enjoy ourselves when our shift ends. If you want lodging, you'll find it in the city center. The Boss controls the sleeping quarters. Pay the toll or sleep with the rats."
Searanox already knew where the population was housed; his drones had mapped their signatures. "I see," he said evenly.
From his left ca the faint, unmistakable crunch of boots on loose stone. Before he could pivot, a searing, white-hot pain exploded in his side. He looked down to see a figure in dark, shifting fabric appearing out of thin air. A blade was buried deep between his ribs. A cloak of 'stealth' fabric concealed the attacker’s face, leaving only a pair of cruel eyes visible.
"I'll call dibs on his gauntlets!" the halberd-wielder shouted, breaking into a sprint with his weapon raised high.
Two arrows hissed through the air from the building above, aid at Searanox’s head. They never reached him.
A multilayered, shimring barrier materialized in front of Searanox in a fraction of a second. The arrows clattered harmlessly against the geotric surface. A sudden flash of brilliant crimson illuminated the shadows.
A localized pulse from a newly summoned drone struck the cloaked assassin at point-blank range. The figure collapsed instantly, a smoking, cauterized hole burned straight through their chest.
"I was attempting to be reasonable," Searanox said. His voice had lost its human mimicry, settling into its natural register—cold, chanical, and utterly devoid of warmth. "You’ve brought this upon yourselves."
The halberd-wielder charged, slamming his weapon against the barrier. He had no ti to register the futility of the move before another crimson beam erupted from a drone hovering just out of sight. The shot was precise. It blew the man's head clean off his shoulders. His headless corpse slumped forward, sliding down the shimring wall of the barrier.
The archers in the building above scrambled to flee, their bravado vanishing the mont the prey started firing back with invisible artillery. They didn't get far.
Two more pulses rang out. The archers collapsed onto the floor of the ruined building, screaming in primal agony. Their legs had been burned down to the blackened bone, effectively anchoring them to the spot.
Searanox walked toward the building, his boots crunching on the glass. He ascended the stairs to the second story, each step making the scorched wooden planks groan beneath his weight. The n on the floor tried to drag themselves away, leaving thick trails of blood behind them.
Searanox stepped through the doorway, his silhouette frad by the blue glow of the dungeon portal outside.
"It’s quite difficult to run without legs, isn't it?"
The survivors pressed themselves against the far wall, their eyes wide with the realization that they weren't dealing with a man, but a monster with better toys.
"Let’s have a talk," Searanox whispered. "Tell about your Boss."
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