Chapter 16: Raid Escalation
The Foundry's control room was a dim fortress of flickering monitors, their blue glow casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls, the air thick with the stale bite of burnt coffee and the faint hum of electronics. Luke sat alone at a cluttered desk, his sneakers scuffing the gritty floor, his jacket slung over a chair, its zipper catching the light, glinting like a warning. He popped a piece of candy, the sugar's sharp tang a fleeting shield against the dread coiling in his chest, his fingers fidgeting with a chipped mug, its handle rough from years of use. His reflection in a dark monitor was a ghost—pale, eyes shadowed, hair mussed by a restless hand, a flicker of fear he couldn't bury. Nanda Parbat. The League's heart. I'm about to sneak into a fortress of killers for a glowy rock. The city's pulse—distant sirens, the low rumble of traffic—seeped through the walls, a restless reminder of the stakes waiting outside. His cracked phone lay beside him, its screen flickering, a small anchor as he braced for the gamble.
The System flared, its interface a cool pulse in his mind, steadying his racing thoughts like a lighthouse cutting through fog.
[SYSTEM: DAILY ROLL ACTIVATED: SPECTRAL DEEP (INNATE ABILITY)]
[SYSTEM: POWER ACTIVATED: DEEP INFILTRATION. STAMINA DRAIN: HIGH]
Luke closed his eyes, his breath slowing, the candy's sweetness fading as he projected his awareness across continents to Nanda Parbat, the transition a cold plunge, his spectral form weightless but strained, like a thread stretched to breaking. The mountain stronghold materialized, its air thin, sharp with the crisp scent of pine and the faint metallic tang of blood, the ancient stone walls heavy with the musty weight of secrets. He drifted through shadowed hallways, past assassins who moved like wraiths, their footsteps silent, their blades catching the flicker of torchlight, their presence a cold pressure against his ghostly senses. His heart raced, a distant echo in his spectral form, each corner a potential trap, the air thick with the threat of discovery, the fortress's pulse a low, menacing hum.
[SYSTEM: SPECTRAL DEEP SUCCESSFUL.]
[SYSTEM: MASTERY UPDATE: SPECTRAL INFILTRATION +15%]
He reached the main chamber, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, the air heavy with the scent of old parchment, incense, and the faint musk of leather. Nyssa al Ghul stood alone, her dark hair braided tightly, her posture rigid but graceful, her fingers tracing the edges of ancient texts on a carved wooden table, their pages yellowed and worn. A glowing crystal—the Artifact of the Ages—rested on an ornate pedestal, its light pulsing like a heartbeat, casting eerie reflections across her sharp cheekbones, her eyes glinting with guarded intensity. Luke's spectral voice, a dry whisper, cut through the silence, laced with his signature sarcasm. "Not gatecrashing your assassin book club, Nyssa. Call this an intervention."
[SYSTEM: SOUL POINTS DRAIN: -15 SP (LONG-DISTANCE PROJECTION).]
Nyssa's head snapped up, her hand twitching toward her sword, her eyes narrowing as if sensing the unseen, her leather armor creaking faintly, the air charged with her alertness. Luke snapped back to his body, gasping, the Foundry's chill grounding him as he clutched the desk, the mug wobbling, his candy wrapper crinkling in his fist, the sugar's aftertaste souring. He teleported to a secluded rendezvous point near Nanda Parbat, a rocky outcrop shrouded in mist, using a precious charge of Mystic Arts, the air crackling with orange light, his stamina burning like a fraying fuse, his temples throbbing with effort.
Nyssa emerged from the fog, swift and silent, her sword drawn, its blade catching the weak sunlight, her movements fluid, her eyes cold but curious, her braid swaying like a pendulum. Her voice was a low hiss, sharp with danger. "You are reckless, Luke, to invade my father's domain."
Luke kept his hands open, his sneakers scuffing the dirt, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. "Reckless, sure, but also stubborn as hell. Slade's ramping up—corporate cash, ARGUS leaks, and a hard-on for your Artifact. You can't fight him and me, Nyssa."
She lunged, her sword a blur of steel, and Luke countered with a rapid weave of archery and phasing, his movements a dance of instinct and precision. He fired a non-lethal arrow, its tip whistling, forcing her to duck, her braid whipping as she moved. He phased backward, the air tingling, dodging her counter-slash, the blade grazing his jacket, the fabric tearing faintly.
[SYSTEM: WEAVING ACTIVATED: 75 EP COST.]
[SYSTEM: ARCHERY COVERS.]
[SYSTEM: EVOLUTION POINTS GAINED: +20 EP.]
"Need me to keep Slade from snagging your glowy rock," Luke said, his breath ragged, his gum snapping loudly, a defiant tic. "Truce or treat, Nyssa. You don't want my trick."
Nyssa paused, her sword lowering, her eyes assessing, a flicker of respect breaking through her steel. "Speak your terms."
The truce was a fragile thread, stretched taut across a chasm of mistrust. Nyssa's voice was clipped, her words measured, as she revealed the Artifact's power—an amplifier for the Lazarus Pit, capable of channeling its energy to reshape the world, a tool Ra's planned to wield for his cleansing vision, and Slade aimed to twist into a Mirakuru-fueled apocalypse. Luke's stomach churned, his fingers brushing the candy wrapper in his pocket, its crinkle a small comfort against the horror sinking in. Slade wants a global vengeance army. That's a nightmare I can't let happen.
[SYSTEM: EMPATHY CONFIRMS NYSSA'S AGENDA (SARA PROTECTION/LEAGUE DISSATISFACTION).]
Nyssa's gaze drifted to the pedestal's empty space, her voice soft, heavy with warning. "He'll come for it. And he'll find it."
Luke nodded, his voice firm, the mist cold against his skin. "Then we'll be waiting."
He leaned against a rock, its surface rough, his sneakers scuffing the dirt, his mind racing as he popped another candy, the sugar sharp but fleeting. Slade's bringing his army to Starling. I need to be more than I am. The mountain's chill seeped through his jacket, the city's distant pulse pulling him back, the truce with Nyssa a fragile bridge to a war looming on the horizon.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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