# Chapter 30: Assembling the Team
The silence in Edi's workshop was a physical weight, thick with the hum of servers and the oppressive glare of the countdown clock. 17:47:58. Each second that fell was a drop of acid on their fraying nerves. The air tasted of ozone and stale coffee, a bitter cocktail that mirrored the dread churning in Konto's gut. He leaned against a cold steel workbench, the metal a small, sharp anchor against the spinning room. The psychic echo of the decryption still screamed behind his eyes, a high-pitched whine that threatened to splinter his focus. Elara. The hospital. The two concepts were welded together in his mind, a single, searing point of pain.
"He's not just killing people," Konto said, his voice a low gravel that cut through the hum. He pushed himself upright, his knuckles white on the edge of the bench. "He's harvesting them. Think about it. A hospital is a nexus of raw emotion. Pain. Fear. Grief. Hope. It's a concentrated wellspring of psychic energy. He's going to use the ley line surge as a catalyst, a pump, to force all of that raw subconscious power through a focal point. He's not just destroying a building; he's distilling the agony of thousands into a weapon."
Liraya stopped her pacing, her sharp features illuminated by the shifting holographic light. "A weapon for what? To power the final stage of his ritual? To break the veil between the dreamscape and reality for good?"
"Both," Gideon rumbled, his voice like shifting bedrock. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his Earth Aspect tattoos glowing a faint, steady brown. "The old texts speak of it. The Ascension Heresy. The belief that a mage can consume the collective suffering of a city to achieve godhood. They need a crucible. A place where the veil is already thin. A place of transition." His gaze drifted to the hospital's schematic on the main screen. "And a place with history. The old city founders built the first sanatorium on that ground. It's a place where life and death have danced for centuries. The psychic resonance is… potent."
Edi, swiping through screens of cascading code, nodded without looking up. "He's not just using the ley lines. He's weaponized the entire grid. I've been tracing the energy flow. It's not just a surge; it's a feedback loop. The initial burst from the Spire hits the hospital, the psychic energy released gets absorbed and amplified by the grid, which then fires a more powerful shot back. It's a cascading harmonic resonance. Each cycle will exponentially increase the power. After three or four pulses, the entire district won't just be destroyed. It will be… unmade. The laws of physics will start to fray at the edges."
The finality of it settled over them. This wasn't a battle they could win with brute force. Charging the Spire was suicide. Trying to shield the hospital with conventional magic would be like trying to stop a tidal wave with a sheet of paper.
"So we break the loop," Liraya stated, her mind already working, dissecting the problem. "We sever the connection between the grid and the hospital."
"I can try," Edi said, finally turning from his console. His face was pale, his eyes wide with the sheer scale of the problem. "But it's not a single wire I can cut. The entire network is magically shielded and redundantly encrypted. The Wardens built it to withstand a siege. To create a localized shutdown, I'd need to bypass the primary security protocols. That means getting into their mainframe. And even if I could, the system has a magical failsafe. A lockdown protocol. If it detects an unauthorized shutdown of that magnitude, it automatically seals the sector with an impenetrable arcane shield and triggers a city-wide alert. We'd be trapped, and the Wardens would be on us in minutes. We'd be stopping the ritual just to get executed by Valerius's goons."
Gideon grunted in frustration. "The old foundations beneath the hospital have shielded chambers. Templar sanctuaries. They could withstand a surge, but we can't get thousands of people into them. And it doesn't stop the feedback loop. It just means we'd be safe in a bunker while the world outside dissolves into chaos."
The hopelessness was a tangible presence in the room, a cold fog that clung to their skin. The clock continued its inexorable march. 16:59:22. Konto's mind raced, sifting through the fragments of his past, the whispers of the dream, the cold, calculating mind of Moros he had touched. He wasn't just a monster; he was a perfectionist. He was an architect. He would have contingencies.
"Moros won't rely solely on the Wardens' automated systems," Konto said, forcing the words out through the fog of pain. "He's a control freak. He'll want a personal override. A way to trigger the failsafe himself, or to disable it, to ensure his ritual isn't interrupted by a glitch. He'll have a backdoor. A command key that isn't in the system, but held by a trusted lieutenant."
Liraya's eyes lit up, a spark of understanding cutting through her despair. "The lockdown protocol. It's not just a program; it's a command sequence. It requires high-level authorization to initiate or, more importantly, to suspend. It's designed to be used in a crisis where the Wardens need to secure an area without tripping their own automated defenses. It's a manual override."
All eyes turned to her. The workshop's hum seemed to fade into the background, the world narrowing to the sharp, intelligent lines of her face.
"To get that override sequence," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "you need real-time access to the Warden's central command core. Not just a terminal on the outside, but a live, authenticated connection from inside their nerve center. You need someone who can watch the system, who can input the codes the second Edi makes his move, and who can fool the system into thinking it's a sanctioned action."
She stopped pacing, her expression unreadable. The weight of what she was about to say settled heavily on her shoulders. "There's only one person who might have that level of access and the potential to be swayed. And getting to her… will be the hardest part of this whole damn war."
Konto pushed himself off the workbench, his body screaming in protest. He met her gaze, seeing the conflict warring there. Duty versus friendship. Logic versus loyalty. He knew that look. He'd worn it himself a thousand times. "Who?"
Liraya took a deep breath, the sound loud in the quiet room. "Her name is Belly. Belly of House Valerius. She's my childhood friend. And she's the Warden Commander's niece."
The name hung in the air, a complication so profound it was almost absurd. Valerius, the man hunting them, the rigid zealot who saw them as a cancer to be excised from the city. His own blood.
"Valerius's niece?" Gideon's voice was laced with disbelief. "Liraya, that's not a long shot. That's a suicide mission. She'll turn you in without a second thought."
"You don't know her," Liraya shot back, a flash of defensiveness in her tone. "Belly… she's not like him. She's brilliant, one of the best tactical analysts in the Magisterium. She believes in order, in protecting people. But she's not a fanatic. She joined the Wardens to make a difference, not to be her uncle's hammer." She looked from Gideon's skeptical face to Edi's anxious one, and finally to Konto, who watched her with an unreadable intensity. "She and I… we grew up together. We swore an oath, a silly childhood thing, to always protect the city, no matter the cost. I have to believe that part of her is still in there."
"And if you're wrong?" Konto asked, his voice soft but cutting. "If you walk into the Magisterium's central command and her loyalty is to her uncle? They won't just capture you, Liraya. They will break you. And they will get everything they need to hunt us all down."
The question hung between them, a test of faith. The ticking clock was a constant reminder of the stakes. 16:42:11.
"Then I'm wrong," Liraya said, her voice dropping to a low, determined whisper. "And we all die anyway. But it's the only play we have. Edi, you need to be ready to create a diversion. A massive data spike somewhere else in the network to draw their attention. Gideon, you'll be on standby for extraction. I'll go in alone."
"No," Konto said, the word a flat statement of fact. "You don't go in alone. Not into the lion's den." He pushed himself away from the bench, his legs trembling but holding. "My mind is shot. I can't fight. I can't dreamwalk. But I can still read people. I'll be your insurance. If she's lying, if she's setting a trap, I'll know."
Liraya stared at him, a complex mix of emotions in her eyes—gratitude, fear, and a dawning respect. He was a wreck, a man on the verge of collapse, yet he was still willing to walk into the fire with her. It was the Lie he believed, that he had to do it all alone, being shattered by the simple, desperate need to protect his partner.
"Konto, you can barely stand," she argued gently.
"I can stand long enough," he countered. "I'll go in as your 'consultant.' A disgraced mage you're bringing in for a second opinion. It's plausible. It gets me in the door. After that, we rely on you and your friendship."
Gideon stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Konto's shoulder. "He's right. You don't face them alone. Not anymore. We're a team." He looked at Liraya, his expression grim but resolute. "If you're going in, you go with a guardian. I can't get into central command, but I can get you to the building's outer perimeter. I can be your eyes and ears on the outside."
Edi swiveled in his chair, his face a mask of concentration. "I can give you a window. The Warden network has a scheduled diagnostic cycle in ninety minutes. It lasts for exactly three minutes. During that time, internal security monitoring is at its lowest. It's not much, but it's the best you'll get. I can also loop the camera feeds in a single corridor for about thirty seconds. That's your entry point. Corridor Gamma-7, sub-level 2. It leads directly to the tactical analysis hub. That's where she'll be."
The plan was taking shape, a desperate, fragile thing born of necessity and sheer bloody-mindedness. It was a long shot, a gamble with astronomical odds, but it was the only one they had.
Liraya looked at the faces around her—at Gideon's steadfast loyalty, Edi's frantic genius, and Konto's sacrificial resolve. The cynical, lone-wolf Dreamwalker, the noble mage, the disgraced Templar, and the paranoid technomancer. A collection of broken people, outcasts, and traitors, assembled to stop a god. It was insane.
"Okay," she said, her voice firm, the decision made. "Edi, get that data spike ready. Gideon, prepare the route. Konto…" She met his gaze, a silent promise passing between them. "Get ready to walk into hell."
Konto managed a weak, lopsided grin. "Wouldn't miss it."
As they moved, a new energy filling the workshop, a sense of grim purpose replacing the despair, Liraya felt a pang of a different kind of fear. It wasn't the fear of death or capture. It was the fear of looking her oldest friend in the eye and asking her to betray everything she had ever known. The hardest part of the war wasn't fighting monsters; it was asking the people you loved to become traitors with you.