The facilities here were outdated—but not the vault door, nor the lock on it.
When Roger and his men reached it, he almost thought the people inside the Walls had stolen technology from outside.
Before him stood a wall reinforced with steel, and on it a lock so intricate that one key alone couldn't possibly open it—it required several.
Leaning closer, Roger noticed bullet marks. Clearly, others had tried before, but none had managed to crack it, and died here instead.
Behind him, alarms blared. Guards were surely rushing to the vault.
Roger didn't want to use Titan power again. Already he'd revealed it once inside the casino. If more guards saw him in that form, word would spread through the capital. If that reached the Founding Titan… everything would be ruined.
Still, for all the noise, surprisingly few guards had made it this far.
His men stood watch at the stairway, ready to report if anyone approached.
Roger studied the lock a while, then sighed.
He didn't understand a thing.
Too complex.
Forget it.
Brute force would do.
He clenched a fist, summoned Titan strength, and slammed the lock. Metal dented deep. His claws tore in, ripping the warped mechanism straight out.
Crunch!
Whatever elaborate inner workings it held, to his Titan talons it was paper.
He shifted stance, shoved the heavy iron door.
Rumble, rumble—
It groaned open, slowly, until a gap wide enough for one man yawned.
Inside glittered piles of treasure, gold and silver stacked to the ceiling.
"Take as much as you can carry. Then we're out. Don't get greedy."
"Yes!"
His men howled with joy, diving into the hoard like wolves into a flock.
Roger ignored the treasure, deactivating his Titan form. He picked up a golden crossbow in a glass case, strung it, and sat atop a pile of coins, aiming at the door.
He counted silently. When the first guard appeared, he loosed. The bolt nailed him through the forehead, pinning him to the wall.
"Enough. Time to go."
He ordered, and the others scrambled to haul their bags.
Roger frowned. He'd told them to take light valuables. Instead, they'd stuffed sacks with solid gold. How could they run with that?
He rubbed his temple. Fine. If they couldn't carry it, they could ditch it later.
Truthfully, they'd shown restraint. If they took too little after such risk, it would've been a waste.
And another chance like this wouldn't come easy.
"Let's move."
He sighed, Titan power flaring again.
At the stairwell, he drew back his fist and smashed through a weak wall.
Boom!
Stone shattered, opening a hole.
The reek of sewage billowed out. This was the escape route they'd studied—the vast sewer network. Safer than fighting through the guards above.
Before, Roger had hesitated, worried the wall might collapse. But now escape mattered more.
Seeing their boss punch through solid stone, his men shrank back, then scurried after him with their sacks like rats.
To them, it didn't matter if their boss was a monster. He brought them riches—that made him the best boss, better than Red Eye a thousand times over.
One by one they climbed up a manhole.
The first out lifted the cover and crawled into an alley beside trash bins. A dog urinating there bolted at the sight.
Checking for danger, the men scrambled up, gasping for breath despite the stench.
Roger was last, tossing in smoke bombs before sealing the cover.
Gunfire crackled outside—the fire group clashing with guards.
Roger glanced at the sky.
The fire group's attack had drawn most of the enemy away, leaving the vault less defended.
"Boss, should we signal them?" one asked.
Roger listened to the shots, shook his head. "If they're smart, they'll know to retreat. We can't expose ourselves. Let's move before the MPs arrive."
"Understood."
They hurried off.
Soon, the fire group's gunfire thinned.
One man noticed the guards withdrawing. "They've pulled back on us. Boss and the others should be clear. If they can't retreat, there's nothing more we can do."
"But Tours, he's still—"
"Bind him! Drag him back!"
"Alright, fine."
They grabbed Tours, struggling and furious, and hauled him away.
—
Hours later, in Stohess District.
Roger had the treasure dumped out, dividing it by merit.
Since Nelly and Babut hadn't gone, their share was less.
When they saw Roger return alive, their faces froze in disbelief, drenched in sweat.
"Boss… is that you?"
Human or ghost? They couldn't tell.
Then they saw the riches others carried—and their guts twisted in regret.
How had it worked? How?
Cheers erupted.
"Long live the boss!!"
"Woooh!!"
"We're rich!!"
They swore loyalty, shouting with glee.
Roger smiled at their excitement, sat back in his chair.
Taking a sip of Nelly's drink, he raised the glass.
"This is your reward," Roger said. "And I have another task."
"What task?"
"Boss, tell us, we'll remember every word."
"No problem, boss, just say it!"
Looking at the fired-up men, Roger set down his glass.
"For the next three days, each of you will tell a hundred people—whether strangers or kin—that Stohess has a new syndicate.
"And its name is…"
He paused, then declared:
"Scorpio."
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