The ascent back down to the 5th Floor Outpost was a brutal reminder of Rian's limitations. He was still the weakest person on the team. He hated being reliant on brute physical effort—it was the very definition of inefficiency. He was half-dragged by Garl, whose adrenaline was fading, revealing the pain of his bruised ribs.
They burst into the outpost's main hall. Rian's first action was to check the West Wall. He didn't see the wall itself, but the metrics of his Ledger.
[WEST WALL VEIN. STATUS: UNSTABLE. PROJECTION: 18 G/DAY.]
"The capital is secured, Garl," Rian gasped, resting his hands on the command desk. "But the stability is questionable. We have to address the threat immediately."
Garl collapsed onto a stack of rotting burlap sacks, wincing. "Threat? My Lord, we just robbed the Guild blind! Surely the biggest threat is the Royal Guard, not some local mud-beast?"
"Wrong," Rian corrected, already pulling up the Ledger's metrics. "The Guild is a slow-moving organization. Their response time is measured in hours. Our immediate threat is the Troll-Hound. That mana spike we caused is an enormous dinner bell, attracting every scavenger on this floor."
Before he finished the sentence, a low, guttural roar echoed up from the newly drilled vein shaft. It wasn't the sound of an opportunistic scavenger. It was a roar of immense power, focused solely on the pure, raw Mana now surging from the wall.
"That's not a scavenger," Garl muttered, hoisting his ax with a grimace. "That's a Troll-Hound. They only show up when the mana is rich enough to eat. We traded debt for a death sentence."
[ENEMY: TROLL-HOUND (ADVANCED). THREAT LEVEL: HIGH (Immune to blunt force, high regeneration). COMBAT VIABILITY (GARL ONLY): 2%.]
"Two percent viability is unacceptable," Rian stated, his voice flat and managerial, despite the adrenaline surge. He hated sudden, unscheduled changes to the operations plan. "Garl, you cannot fight it. Your strength is irrelevant."
He spotted Varya rushing in from the assay room, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and intellectual excitement.
"Lord Rian! The Conduit is drawing pure Tier 3 Mana! It's rich! But that thing... it's huge! It will destroy the vein trying to get to the mana!" Varya cried.
"Precisely. We have attracted a hostile takeover attempt from the monster market," Rian said. "Varya, I need your immediate tactical assessment. Do you have any array that can slow its movement? Anything to force a retreat?"
Varya shook her head frantically. "My only active rune is the Deep-Bore Conduit! It's pulling immense power to keep the vein open! I can't convert it into a shield or an attack without overloading the entire system!"
A complete failure of foresight on the R&D side. Rian gritted his teeth. No contingency plan.
"Varya, get ready! Garl, you are our only distraction," Rian shouted, his frail body masking the ruthless intelligence behind his plan. "Draw it toward the main hall! Do not engage in high-impact combat! We need to buy Varya thirty seconds!"
Garl nodded grimly, ax held high. "Minimum effort, maximum annoyance. Got it. I miss simple violence, My Lord."
The massive, scaly shadow of the Troll-Hound filled the doorway. It was easily nine feet tall, its hide covered in diamond-hard scales, its jaws wide enough to swallow Garl whole. It lumbered into the assay room, its eyes fixed not on the men, but on the conduit.
Garl roared—a sound almost as loud as the Troll-Hound's—and darted back, drawing the massive creature's attention with feints and loud threats. The monster, slightly confused but focused on the loud interruption, lumbered after him, scales scraping against the stone walls.
Rian ignored the sounds of destruction coming from the main hall. He turned his focus entirely to Varya, who was already running her fingers over the glowing array, sweat pouring down her face.
"Varya, status! What's the biggest risk factor in converting the conduit?"
"The cores are integrated for one-way transfer!" Varya cried, her voice high with stress. "I'm trying to force them to create an external, directional surge! If I rush, the internal pressure spikes and we lose the whole shaft!"
"Simplify the array! We don't need a high-end stun! We need a single, short push! Just enough force to knock it off balance!" Rian demanded, leveraging his understanding of raw physics.
Varya paused, her eyes snapping to Rian's face, the simple, brutal logic of the idea hitting her with the force of an epiphany. "A simple directional repulsion! Yes! Less complex routing! I can do it in fifteen seconds!"
"Good. Execute the downgrade," Rian ordered.
Fifteen seconds. Rian gripped the side of the workbench, listening to the crashing sounds. He heard Garl's deep, strangled cry of pain.
"Garl's armor failed! He's pinned!" Rian shouted. The thirty-second window is gone. We are in Overtime Risk.
"Nine seconds!" Varya yelled, her face pale.
Rian, knowing he had no combat role, immediately looked for a solution. He snatched the cheap, ceramic oil lamp off the wall—the only item of note on the desk.
"Varya, get ready to deploy the repulsion field toward the corridor! I need to lure it back in here!"
Rian didn't aim at the Troll-Hound. He tossed the lamp high and hard toward the central hall's column. The ceramic shattered with a loud CRASH, splashing foul-smelling oil everywhere.
The Troll-Hound, momentarily distracted by pinning Garl, instantly shifted its attention. The strong, volatile smell of the oil, combined with the raw mana bleeding from the assay room, was a more compelling scent than the pinned mercenary.
It turned, its massive head swinging toward Rian.
"The Troll-Hound is back on my position! Varya, status!" Rian yelled, taking a step back, forcing the workbench between them.
The creature's eyes, the color of spoiled jade, locked onto Rian. It took a slow, deliberate step toward the assay room.
"Done! Firing!" Varya screamed.
She slammed her hand down on the activation rune. The Deep-Bore Conduit—designed to bore through stone—suddenly pulsed with intense, targeted blue light. The energy surged out of the chamber, hitting the Troll-Hound square in the chest.
The effect was not destructive, but utterly ridiculous.
The terrifying creature was abruptly shoved backward by the invisible force, skidding across the stone floor like a cartoon object, finally slamming into the opposite wall with a dull THUD.
The stunned silence was broken by Varya's ragged, triumphant panting. "I... I just repurposed a mining drill to push a monster. That's actually amazing."
Rian let out a thin, sharp breath of relief. "That wasn't amazing, Varya. That was Minimum Viable Force. It bought us time. Now, we eliminate the threat."
The Troll-Hound wasn't harmed, but it was dazed and clearly furious. It began to lumber back toward the assay room.
"Varya, charge another repulsion field! Garl, report on your injuries and assess if you can crawl!"
Garl, coughing and dragging himself from the rubble, managed to pull himself to the doorway. "Left leg's cracked, My Lord. I'm a dead weight right now. We need the main tunnel."
Rian calculated: No chance of survival in a stand-up fight. The creature was blocking their only path to the exit.
"Varya, fire the repulsion field at the ceiling directly above its head! Maximum output!"
Varya didn't question the command. She screamed and slammed her hand down again. The conduit fired. The beam shot straight up, hitting the rough-hewn ceiling directly above the Troll-Hound's head.
The stone didn't shatter; it compressed. The concentrated pressure caused a massive, localized cave-in. Tons of loose rock, dirt, and dust rained down, burying the Troll-Hound up to its shoulders in debris.
The outpost trembled again. The roar of the beast turned into a muffled, furious howl.
"Garl! Now we move!" Rian yelled.
He grabbed the massive mercenary's arm, pulling him toward the main tunnel. Varya, pale and shaking, grabbed her notes and followed.
"My Lord, what was the profit in burying the thing?" Garl groaned as Rian half-dragged him.
"Zero, Garl. That was pure damage control," Rian explained, already moving at his top speed. "We can't kill it, but we made the effort of digging itself out too high. It will retreat before it wastes time clearing that much rock."
They reached the rickety ladder to the upper floors just as the Troll-Hound finally pulled its head free, roaring in confused fury.
"We need to go, Lord Rian! Now! It will track our mana signatures!" Varya warned, quickly climbing the ladder.
Rian paused at the base of the ladder, looking back at his ruined, dust-filled command center. He had secured the capital and defended it. He checked the Ledger.
[WEST WALL VEIN. STATUS: SECURE. INITIAL YIELD: 18 G/DAY.][DEBT LIABILITY: 1,500 G. DAYS REMAINING: 6 DAYS, 2 HOURS.]
Rian smiled, a thin, feral expression that looked entirely out of place on the pale heir's face.
"It's working. The plan is working," Rian stated, climbing the ladder after Varya.
"My Lord, we just barely survived that! We need to stop and rest!" Garl insisted, wincing as he pulled himself up.
"Rest is a secondary concern when we are earning eighteen Gold Marks a day, Garl. Now, we secure our people," Rian said. "First, we get you to a medic. Garl needs immediate repair. Second, Varya needs safety. Her research is too valuable to risk on the open market."
"Safety?" Varya asked, looking down from above, her eyes wide. "What kind of safety?"
Rian climbed to the top, meeting her eye.
"The kind that ensures absolute commitment," he stated, his voice dropping to a low, intimate command. "Varya, I need to know the price of your dedication. I need to make you an offer that makes leaving an unacceptable loss. What is the value of your future?"
A/N The Troll-Hound is buried, and Rian has a steady income stream. But the clock is still ticking, and now he needs to secure his most valuable asset—Varya. Next chapter, the first romantic 'contract' is negotiated. Don't miss Chapter 4!