The climb back through the maintenance tunnels felt longer than the descent. Takeshi's legs protested each step up the rusted ladder, his MP sitting at 71/100 while his muscles reminded him that supernatural abilities didn't replace basic physical conditioning. The freight system's sealed access points pulsed with faint blue light as he passed—his handiwork, permanent until someone physically overrode each terminal.
Victory should have felt better than this.
The main platform came into view as he emerged from the freight access shaft. His team waited near the Core chamber entrance, their expressions caught between relief and professional concern. Black Company security forces had established a defensive perimeter around the three monitoring stations, their postures still tense despite the enemy's withdrawal.
"You sealed it," Kenji said, studying the network map on his status window. "The entire freight system. We watched the access points lock down across the board."
"Manual overrides at three control nodes." Takeshi's briefcase felt like dead weight in his hand. "The old-world engineers didn't trust digital systems."
"Smart of them." Yuna pulled up tactical analysis data. "The Seikatsu strike force withdrew the moment you completed the final override. No combat engagement at our position. They just... left."
Matsumoto's voice cut through their assessment. "All personnel, Core chamber. Now."
The Regional Operations Manager stood beside the central terminal, her professional demeanor showing cracks that suggested the last hour had aged her considerably. Behind her, holographic displays showed the sealed freight network and departed enemy markers—tactical victory rendered in blue light and empty threat indicators.
But Matsumoto's expression promised very bad news.
The team assembled in silence. Takeshi noticed the additional security presence—System Integration Department technicians working on secondary terminals, their interfaces displaying data streams he couldn't quite parse through his fragmenting Network Authority.
"Sit," Matsumoto said, gesturing to the chairs arranged around the tactical display. "We need to discuss what actually happened here."
Takeshi's stomach sank. "We secured the hub. Sealed the freight system. Forced enemy withdrawal—"
"You executed brilliantly under impossible constraints," Matsumoto interrupted. "Tactically, this was a textbook defense against superior forces. But tactically isn't what matters in corporate warfare."
She activated the main display. The holographic interface shifted from network maps to something far more disturbing—a complete breakdown of Takeshi's Network Authority capabilities rendered in clinical detail.
[SYSTEM INTEGRATION DEPARTMENT - POST-ENGAGEMENT ANALYSIS]
Subject: Yamada Takeshi (Level 4 Corporate Drone)
Network Authority Assessment:
Effective Range: 342 meters from Core nodes MP Depletion Threshold: Below 30/100 causes severe cognitive impairment Synchronization Rate: 34% (incomplete integration) Infrastructure Coverage Gaps: Freight systems, maintenance shafts, emergency access tunnels Team Dependency: Requires synchronized abilities for major territorial plays Cooldown Vulnerability: 15-minute window with no active capabilities
Tactical Limitations Documented:
Cannot maintain Network Authority during sustained MP drain System feedback increases with deep infrastructure access Territorial suppression ineffective against Level 12+ entities Manual override requirement for legacy systems Physical presence required for control node activation
Strategic Assessment: COMPROMISED
Takeshi stared at the data. Every capability he'd demonstrated. Every limitation he'd revealed. Every tactical decision catalogued with the precision of a performance review.
"Ishikawa Riku told you it was reconnaissance," Matsumoto said. "He wasn't lying. The Seikatsu Consortium executed a textbook intelligence-gathering operation. Every action designed to force you into revealing your Network Authority's capabilities under pressure."
Yuna's analytical mind was already working the implications. "They know his range. His MP constraints. Our team coordination patterns—"
"They know everything," Matsumoto confirmed. "And they're sharing it. The System Integration Department detected data transmissions during the engagement. Encrypted corporate channels. By now, every major faction in Tokyo has access to this analysis."
Hideo's expression shifted to professional horror. "Takeshi's gone from unknown strategic asset to catalogued threat. With documented limitations."
"Which means every future engagement will be planned around exploiting his known weaknesses," Kenji finished grimly.
Matsumoto pulled up additional data streams. "It gets worse. The System Integration Department's forensic analysis detected secondary contamination during the strike force's withdrawal."
The holographic display shifted to show microscopic particles embedded throughout the hub's infrastructure—monitoring stations, power conduits, even the Core chamber itself. Each particle pulsed with faint red light, creating a constellation of foreign presence across their supposedly secured territory.
"Surveillance nanites," Yuna breathed. "They deployed surveillance nanites during the engagement."
"Correct." Matsumoto's tone carried the weight of strategic catastrophe. "Military-grade corporate espionage technology. Self-replicating, power-grid sustained, designed to survive standard purge protocols. They're feeding real-time operational data back to the Seikatsu Consortium—personnel movements, resource allocations, defensive preparations. And every activation of Takeshi's Network Authority."
The implications crashed over Takeshi like system feedback. "They're still watching. Right now."
"Continuously," Matsumoto confirmed. "The intelligence leak is persistent. Every operation we plan, every defensive measure we implement—they'll know about it before we execute."
Takeshi's Network Authority showed him the nanites now, his expanded awareness detecting them as foreign authorization codes embedded in his territory. Thousands of them. Maybe tens of thousands. Each one a microscopic spy reporting back to enemy corporations.
"Can we purge them?" Kenji asked. "Standard system cleanse, infrastructure reboot—"
"They're using our own power grid to sustain themselves." Yuna had pulled up detailed analysis on her status window. "Shutting down the hub would require evacuating all personnel and losing territorial claim for the duration. The moment we brought systems back online, the nanites would reactivate from dormant backups embedded in the infrastructure itself."
"So we're permanently compromised," Hideo said flatly. "Every future operation predictable to enemy corporations. Every tactical advantage negated by ongoing surveillance."
Matsumoto's expression suggested she'd been waiting for this conclusion. "Not necessarily. The System Integration Department has identified a potential solution. But it requires Takeshi's cooperation."
The way she said it made Takeshi's instincts scream warning. "What kind of solution?"
"Your Monopoly skill's territorial enforcement capabilities." Matsumoto pulled up technical specifications that made Takeshi's head hurt. "The nanites operate on corporate authorization codes—digital signatures that identify them as legitimate Seikatsu Consortium assets. But within your Network Authority's range, you theoretically have the power to override those codes. Force the nanites into recognizing Black Company authority instead of Seikatsu's."
"Theoretically," Takeshi repeated.
"The problem is your current integration level." A System Integration Department technician stepped forward, his interface displaying complex data streams. "Your Network Authority is at 34% synchronization. That's enough for basic territorial control, but corporate authorization override requires deeper System integration. Much deeper."
Takeshi's stomach dropped. "How much deeper?"
"67% minimum." The technician pulled up integration protocols that looked like binding contracts written in code. "We'd need to connect your consciousness directly to the network infrastructure. Permanent neural interface. Portions of your awareness bound to the System architecture."
"Permanent," Hideo said, his Bureaucrat class already identifying the trap. "What are the contractual obligations associated with that level of integration?"
The technician hesitated. Matsumoto answered instead.
"Standard System integration clauses. Enhanced capabilities in exchange for infrastructure binding. Your Network Authority would expand significantly—full coverage of connected dungeons, real-time threat assessment, enhanced territorial enforcement. But you'd be permanently connected to the network. Portions of your consciousness always monitoring, always processing, always aware."
"And the fine print?" Hideo pressed.
Matsumoto pulled up the actual contract. Takeshi watched Hideo's expression shift from professional concern to outright alarm as he read.
"Clause 47-B," Hideo said quietly. "Executive Override Authority. During declared strategic emergencies, Black Company executives can directly access your network vision. They're asking you to become a corporate surveillance system."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
"It's not mandatory activation," Matsumoto said carefully. "The CEO would need to formally declare a strategic emergency. And there are limitations on access duration, data retention, privacy protections—"
"All of which can be waived during actual emergencies," Hideo interrupted. "I've read enough Black Company contracts to know how this works. The protections exist until they don't."
Takeshi studied the holographic display showing thousands of surveillance nanites embedded in his territory. Ongoing intelligence leak versus permanent corporate access to his consciousness. Enemy surveillance versus employer surveillance.
Some choice.
"How long do I have to decide?" he asked.
"The nanites are already transmitting," Matsumoto said. "Every minute we delay is another minute the Seikatsu Consortium gains operational intelligence. If you're going to accept the integration, it should be now."
Yuna's analytical assessment cut through the pressure. "What happens if he refuses? Worst case scenario?"
"Worst case? Every operation we plan gets countered before execution. The Seikatsu Consortium shares our tactical data with other corporate entities. We lose strategic initiative across Tokyo's entire dungeon network." Matsumoto's professional honesty was brutal. "Best case? We abandon this hub, relocate to uncompromised territory, and start over. Which means losing everything we fought for today."
"And if he accepts?" Kenji asked.
"He gains the power to purge enemy surveillance while becoming potentially vulnerable to employer surveillance," Matsumoto said. "It's a calculated risk. Trading known compromise for potential compromise."
Takeshi's MP sat at 78/100, his abilities fully recovered while his team waited for a decision that would fundamentally alter his relationship with the System. He thought about Ishikawa Riku's parting words—we'll be seeing each other again, when you're actually ready.
Ready meant powerful enough to matter. And power in corporate warfare came with strings attached.
"Do it," Takeshi said. "The integration. I'll accept the deeper System binding."
Hideo started to protest. Takeshi cut him off.
"We can't operate with ongoing intelligence compromise. And I'd rather deal with potential employer surveillance than guaranteed enemy surveillance. At least the Black Company needs me functional to maintain Network Authority. The Seikatsu Consortium just needs me predictable."
Matsumoto nodded, her expression carefully neutral. "System Integration Department, prepare the neural interface suite. Standard deep integration protocol. Takeshi, you'll need to review and sign the binding contract before we proceed."
The contract appeared on Takeshi's status window—pages of legal text rendered in System interface formatting. Hideo pulled up his own copy, speed-reading with the desperate efficiency of someone trying to find escape clauses that didn't exist.
"Clause 47-B is non-negotiable," Hideo said after thirty seconds. "It's embedded in the core integration architecture. You can't accept deeper System binding without accepting executive override authority."
"I know."
"Takeshi, this isn't just corporate access to your abilities. They'll have direct connection to your consciousness. Your thoughts, your perceptions, your awareness—"
"I know," Takeshi repeated. "But any power is better than predictable weakness. Sign the contract."
The System Integration Department had converted a secondary chamber into a neural interface suite with disturbing efficiency. Medical equipment lined the walls, monitoring systems that would track his vital signs during the consciousness-binding procedure. At the center, a reclining chair surrounded by neural interface cables that pulsed with faint blue light.
Takeshi sat. The technicians moved with practiced precision, attaching interface cables to connection points that appeared on his skin like System-generated ports. Each attachment sent tingles through his nervous system, his body recognizing the foreign intrusion even as his Monopoly skill identified them as legitimate infrastructure components.
"The integration will take approximately three minutes," the lead technician explained. "Your Network Authority will expand rapidly as your consciousness binds to the infrastructure. You'll experience sensory overload, cognitive dissonance, and potentially physical discomfort as your mind adapts to processing network-level data streams."
"Will it hurt?" Takeshi asked.
"Yes."
Matsumoto stood at the observation window, her expression unreadable. "Once the integration completes, you'll have full territorial enforcement capabilities. Use them to purge the surveillance nanites immediately. Every second they remain active is another second of intelligence compromise."
Takeshi nodded, his MP at 82/100 and climbing. His team watched through reinforced glass, their expressions mixing concern with professional calculation. They understood what he was trading for power.
The lead technician activated the integration protocol.
Pain arrived first—white-hot agony as neural interface cables forced connections between his consciousness and the network infrastructure. Takeshi's vision split between physical reality and data streams that flooded his awareness with impossible speed. The Shinjuku hub's architecture laid itself bare before his expanding Network Authority—every tunnel, every platform, every maintenance shaft rendered in perfect detail.
His synchronization rate climbed: 42%. 51%. 63%.
The surveillance nanites appeared in his enhanced awareness like stars in a poisoned sky. Thousands of foreign authorization codes embedded throughout his territory, each one pulsing with Seikatsu Consortium corporate signatures. His Monopoly skill's territorial enforcement capabilities surged with unprecedented power, granting him the authority to override those signatures and force the nanites into recognizing Black Company control.
Takeshi reached out with his Network Authority and enforced.
The nanites died in waves. His territorial control swept through the infrastructure like a purge protocol, systematically identifying and neutralizing each foreign authorization code. The Seikatsu surveillance network collapsed under the weight of his enhanced enforcement, thousands of microscopic spies forced into dormancy and then deletion as his Monopoly skill claimed absolute authority over his territory.
His synchronization rate hit 67%.
The integration completed.
And Takeshi felt the backdoor open in his mind.
Clause 47-B wasn't theoretical anymore. It existed as a permanent connection point embedded in his consciousness—dormant but ready. He could sense its architecture, feel the pathways that would allow Black Company executives to access his network vision during declared emergencies. The clause waited like a loaded gun, its trigger in someone else's hand.
[NETWORK AUTHORITY - SYNCHRONIZATION: 67%]
[TERRITORIAL ENFORCEMENT: ENHANCED]
[SURVEILLANCE NANITES: PURGED]
[EXECUTIVE OVERRIDE: DORMANT]
[MP: 100/100]
The neural interface cables disconnected with wet sounds that made Takeshi's stomach turn. He sat up slowly, his expanded Network Authority still processing the Shinjuku hub's complete architecture. He could feel every tunnel, every platform, every monitoring station as extensions of his own awareness.
He could also feel the corporate backdoor waiting in his consciousness.
"Integration successful," the lead technician confirmed. "Surveillance nanite purge complete. Network Authority stable at 67% synchronization. Subject is cleared for active duty."
Matsumoto entered the integration suite, studying Takeshi with professional assessment. "How do you feel?"
"Powerful," Takeshi said honestly. "And compromised."
"Welcome to upper management." Matsumoto pulled up tactical displays showing the purged infrastructure. "The surveillance nanites are gone. The Seikatsu Consortium's intelligence leak is closed. But you're right about the compromise. Clause 47-B is permanent. The CEO can activate executive override whenever he declares a strategic emergency."
"How often does that happen?"
"Often enough." Matsumoto's expression suggested personal experience. "But the access is limited in scope and duration. And it requires formal declaration, which creates a paper trail. The CEO won't use it casually."
"Just when it matters most," Hideo said from the observation window. "When Takeshi's network vision would be most valuable to corporate interests."
Matsumoto didn't deny it.
Takeshi stood, his enhanced Network Authority making the room feel simultaneously larger and more confined. He could sense his team through the infrastructure now—their positions, their stress levels, their MP reserves. The hub's complete architecture existed in his consciousness like a second body, vast and intricate and permanently his to control.
And permanently accessible to his employers.
"The nanites are purged," he said. "The intelligence leak is closed. We've secured the hub."
"At what cost?" Yuna asked quietly.
Takeshi looked at his status window, at the new capabilities and the new constraints rendered in System interface formatting. His Network Authority had expanded beyond anything he'd imagined. His territorial enforcement could now override corporate authorization codes, purge enemy surveillance, and maintain absolute control over his claimed territory.
But his consciousness was bound to the infrastructure. And his greatest asset was now permanently accessible to the very corporate hierarchy he'd been trying to maintain independence from.
"The cost of power in corporate warfare," Takeshi said. "Solving immediate threats by accepting long-term constraints."
Matsumoto nodded. "Welcome to management, Yamada-san. It only gets more complicated from here."