The stale air in the dark storage space felt heavy, thick with the scent of rusty metal and Garl's profound anxiety. The mercenary was pacing a tight circuit, his massive shadow consuming the flickering lamplight.
"My Lord, this is insanity," Garl grumbled, leaning his huge frame against a stack of mining equipment. "The 10th Floor Guild office is a fortress. They have wards that could stop a dragon, and you want to walk in there with a rusty ax and a spool of wire?"
"Your worry is noted, Garl," Rian said, checking the tension of the thin wire in his hand. "But your professional opinion is based on the wrong information. You calculate a frontal attack. We are simply exploiting a flaw in their system."
Rian leaned in, his voice dropping to a sharp, simple command. "The Guild relies on its own pride. They spent all their money on big, obvious shields. They spent almost nothing on watching their own supplies."
He explained the plan to steal the Runeblank Cores—a plan that involved chaos, contamination, and a precisely timed theft.
"Varya's distraction, the 'Contamination Alert,' will pull the high-tier security Golems away from the vault. Those Golems are programmed to protect supplies. A sudden threat to their massive crystal storage will override the need to guard a few cores," Rian concluded.
Garl rubbed his thick neck. "So, we're relying on their alarm system being stupider than a newborn Kobold."
"Precisely," Rian confirmed, a flicker of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Automated systems are predictable. We are exploiting their logic."
He glanced at the faint blue metrics of the Ledger. [ASSET GARL. MOTIVATION: FEAR/MONEY. LIABILITY: CHRONIC WHINING.]
"Stop worrying, Garl. Your job is simple: smash the physical lock, nothing more. You're the heavy lever. Your opinion is not required for this part of the job."
Garl sighed dramatically. "Ah, finally, a job I'm qualified for. Just don't let the little Sorcerer leave any messy magical residue. I'm allergic to treason charges."
Rian found Varya in a secluded, dusty alcove near the main waste chute. She was hunched over, carefully mixing a small pouch of iridescent yellow powder—Sloth Spider Dust—with a vial of pungent, acidic liquid.
"Lord Rian, the mix is stable," Varya reported, her voice low and efficient. "The dust will turn into a massive plume of smoke when exposed to the 10th Floor vents' heat. It's non-lethal, but it will be flagged as severe contamination."
"The time?" Rian asked.
"13:50:00 precisely," Varya confirmed, her hands steady. "I have synchronized the dispersal array to the Tower's central clock. We have five minutes before I deploy."
Rian looked at her, his eyes cold and focused. "Flawless execution, Varya. Our entire six-day window depends on this. If you fail to create the proper distraction, the Golems won't move. You know what failure costs."
Varya met his gaze, no longer trembling. "I understand the price. I need those cores for my research. The biggest risk now is you and Garl getting caught."
"We won't be caught. We're relying on careful timing, not luck," Rian stated, then gave a rare, small acknowledgment. "You've prepared perfectly. Now, wait for the signal."
Rian left her and rejoined Garl. They made the final, tense climb to the 10th Floor, relying on the chaos of the busy hour for cover.
The 10th Floor Transfer Bay was a deafening symphony of trade, shouts, and clattering carts. Rian and Garl were two quiet figures against the noise, positioned in a maintenance alcove directly across from the sprawling, white marble Guild branch office.
Rian's heart hammered a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs—a biological failure he couldn't control. He pulled up the Ledger, using the metrics to stabilize his focus.
[ASSET RIAN THORNE. HEART RATE: 140 BPM. EMOTIONAL STRESS: HIGH. COUNTERMEASURE: FOCUS ON DATA.]
He focused on the time. 13:49:00. One minute.
The tension was suffocating. Rian forced himself to think back, not to the danger of the Golems, but to the cold certainty of his past life.
The memory was brief, potent, and painful. He was twenty-five, arguing with a senior partner who wanted to cut the budget for data encryption. "If we save ten thousand coins on security, we risk losing millions. Preventing problems is always cheaper than fixing them." The partner had laughed, calling him paranoid.
He hadn't been paranoid; he'd been right. He lost that firm to a massive data breach later that year.
Rian shivered, the past betrayal injecting a spike of cold resolve into his current terror. He would not lose this time.
13:49:50. Ten seconds left.
Rian watched the two massive Protector Golems standing like silver sentinels by the vault. They were Tier 4, equipped with Mana Shields and high-impact weaponry. Rian's weak body had no defense against them.
13:50:00.
A sudden, sharp HISS erupted from a maintenance vent twenty yards down the corridor. It wasn't a loud explosion, but a massive, immediate plume of choking, iridescent yellow smoke that instantly filled the busy air.
A high-pitched, automated voice blared from hidden speakers across the entire 10th Floor: "ALERT! TIER 3 RESOURCE CONTAMINATION IN PROGRESS. INITIATING SUPPRESSION."
Chaos erupted. Porters shrieked, dropping carts of raw minerals. The five Guild guards immediately began shouting orders, their attention locked on the contamination site.
Rian only looked at the Golems.
The two massive Golems did exactly what their programming dictated. Their runic eyes glowed red, and they stomped away from the vault, descending into the floor access to reach the vent system below. Their logic demanded they protect the supply chain first.
The Ledger flashed green: the Golems were neutralized. The plan had worked.
And critically: [VAULT WARD EFFICIENCY: 68% (DOWN from 99%)].
"Go, Garl," Rian commanded, his voice a low, fierce whisper. "The plan is a go. We have seventy-five seconds."
Garl, his eyes wide with fear and adrenaline, burst from the shadows. "Seventy-five seconds! You better be right, My Lord!"
Garl didn't swing at the guards. He brought his heavy ax down in a brutal, precise arc that slammed directly into the side of the reinforced Keypad Access Panel beside the door. A screech of tortured metal filled the air, crippling the electronic lock system.
Rian, slight and fast, slipped past Garl and the incoming fire from the startled guards. He ignored the skirmish. He walked straight up to the vault door, his eyes fixed on the pulsing shield.
"Garl, hold the line! I need access now!"
"I'm trying, My Lord! But I'm charging you triple for this risk!" Garl yelled, blocking a crossbow bolt with his ax handle.
Rian pulled the small, lead-cased glass cutter from his pocket. He placed the diamond tip against the thick, reinforced glass of the inspection port. The shield was running at 68% power.
He applied slow, controlled pressure. He wasn't relying on strength; he was relying on physics. He found the precise point where the power bleed-off had pulled the shield's integrity to the breaking point.
The glass screamed, and the raw mana felt like thousands of stinging needles against Rian's palm.
CRACK.
The inspection port shattered with a loud pop, the sound muffled by the chaos outside. The shield failed at that single point, leaving a small window, just wide enough for Rian's hand.
Rian shoved his hand through the gap, his fingers grasping the three priceless, glowing orbs—the Runeblank Cores. He pulled them out, tucking them into his pouch.
The Ledger confirmed the haul: [CAPITAL GAIN: 450 G UNLOCKED.]
He turned just as Garl knocked one of the guards unconscious with the flat of his ax.
"Garl! Time is up! The job is done!"
The moment Rian spoke, a new, louder alarm blared across the floor: "RESOURCE CONTAMINATION CONTAINED. RESUMING STANDARD PATROLS."
The Golems were coming back.
Rian grabbed Garl's shoulder. "We run! Now! The money is secured! We need a clean exit, not a fight we can't win!"
They disappeared into the darkness of a maintenance shaft just as the first massive Protector Golem stomped back into the corridor, its runic eyes fixed on the destroyed vault.
Rian, panting, slid down the rickety ladder, the rough rope burning his palms. He had no combat power, but he had three Runeblank Cores and the certainty that his approach was correct.
The entire Tower system—the magic, the Guilds, the Nobles—it was just badly run.
He grinned, a cynical, satisfied expression in the dark. "The takeover has begun."
A/N Rian just executed a flawless corporate raid using chaos and a math problem. The debt is still massive, but the capital is secured. Next chapter, the Troll-Hound says hello. Don't miss Chapter 3!