The van's tires hummed softly against the asphalt as it approached the imposing gates of Governor Alden Roque's private vault. Erica's heart pounded in her chest, a steady drumbeat of adrenaline and resolve. The warning sign loomed like a silent sentinel, but they pressed on, the weight of their plan hanging heavy in the air.
Suddenly, the lone enforcer at the gate raised his hand, signaling them to stop. Redd eased off the accelerator, bringing the van to a slow halt. The enforcer's metal boots clanged against the ground with each deliberate step as he approached the driver's side. His armor gleamed under the floodlights—sleek yet impenetrable, designed for both protection and mobility. He leaned in through the open window, his face obscured by a visor, expecting perhaps a routine check.
Instead, he was met with the cold barrel of a dart gun pressed against his chin.
He froze for a split second, instincts kicking in too late. A soft *thwip* echoed in the night, and the dart embedded itself in his skin. The enforcer's eyes widened behind his visor before glazing over. He stumbled backward, clutching at his neck, then collapsed in a heap on the ground, his body limp in induced slumber.
Redd glanced back at the crew, a grim nod of confirmation. "One down. Let's move."
The engine roared back to life, and the van rolled forward, slipping through the now-unguarded gates into the vault compound. The fortress ahead was a monolithic structure, windowless and foreboding, its walls rising like sheer cliffs of reinforced stone. At the center stood a colossal door, flanked by four more enforcers. They were chatting idly, their postures relaxed—oblivious to the intruder that had just breached their perimeter.
Redd parked the van in the shadows, killing the lights. The doors slid open with a hushed whisper, and the six masked figures emerged, moving like ghosts across the courtyard. Erica's breaths came shallow and controlled, her dart gun gripped tightly in her gloved hand. They fanned out, creeping closer until they were within striking range.
"Faces only," Redd whispered over their comms. "Armor won't let the darts through."
In unison, they raised their weapons. Four darts whistled through the air, each finding its mark on exposed necks or chins. The enforcers jerked in surprise, hands flying to the stinging points of impact. One managed a half-shout of alarm before his eyes rolled back, and all four slumped to the ground, joining their comrade in forced sleep.
The crew advanced to the massive door, its surface etched with intricate security runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. A keypad lock blinked expectantly beside it. Varell knelt by the fallen enforcers, rifling through their utility belts until he found what they needed—a sleek keycard.
"Got it," he muttered, swiping it through the reader. A series of mechanical clicks resonated from within the door, followed by the low groan of hydraulics. The barrier parted slowly, revealing the vault's interior.
"Get ready," Redd barked, his voice tense. They braced for resistance—workers scrambling, guards charging, alarms blaring. The plan had accounted for a fight; they were armed and prepared to neutralize anyone inside.
But as the door swung fully open, no chaos erupted. Instead, an endless vista of gleaming gold stretched before them, row upon row of neatly stacked treasures bathed in soft, ambient lighting. The air inside was crisp and cold, carrying the metallic tang of wealth untouched by time.
The gang stepped in cautiously, weapons raised, sweeping the vast chamber for threats. Piles of coins and bars extended into the distance, organized with meticulous precision. No footsteps echoed back at them, no voices called out. They were utterly alone.
Erica's eyes widened behind her mask. *This is too easy,* she thought, a flicker of unease cutting through her excitement. But the others erupted in jubilation, their whoops and cheers bouncing off the golden walls.
"Jackpot!" Mara laughed, pumping her fist.
"Quiet down!" Redd snapped, though a grin tugged at his lips. "Load up—fast."
They snapped back to focus, pulling out their specialized cases—sleek, modern chests engineered for hauling heavy loads without strain. Gold in this realm came in standardized forms, each with its own denomination:
- The Circle Coin: Small and round, the basic unit worth 1.
- The Hexagon Coin: Larger, with carved edges for easy stacking, valued at 100.
- The Square Plate: Palm-sized slabs, hefty and ornate, each worth 10,000.
- The Gold Bar: Massive bricks that required two hands to lift, prized at 1,000,000 apiece.
Prioritizing efficiency, they targeted the bars. Working in pairs, they hefted the heavy ingots into the cases, the clink of metal on metal a symphony of impending fortune. One hundred bars in total—enough to hit their mark of one hundred million without excess risk.
Sweat beaded on Erica's brow as she hauled her share, her mind racing ahead to her true plan. *Brian needs this. All of it.* The cases filled quickly, ten in all, and they shuttled them back to the van in relays.
Now, with the loading complete, Erica positioned herself by the vehicle alongside Mara and the other two women. Redd and Varell were making one final trip inside for a double-check.
("It's time,") Erica thought, her pulse quickening.
In a fluid motion, she drew her double-barreled dart gun from its holster. Before the women could register the betrayal, she fired—two darts for the pair beside her, a third for Mara as she turned in shock. They crumpled to the ground, eyes fluttering shut in chemical sleep.
Erica didn't hesitate. She leaped into the driver's seat, slamming the door and igniting the engine. The van lurched forward, tires screeching as she accelerated toward the exit.
Shouts erupted behind her—Redd and Varell bursting from the vault, spotting the fallen women and the fleeing vehicle. "Stop! You traitor!" Varell bellowed, sprinting after her, but the van was already gaining speed.
Erica glanced in the rearview mirror as she barreled past the warning sign and veered left onto the main road. Her heart sank—the enforcers' reinforcements had arrived. Heavy-duty vehicles, armored and swift, split into two groups: four storming back toward the vault, the other four peeling off in pursuit of her.
Back at the compound, Redd and Varell skidded to a halt, facing the advancing enforcers. These were no ordinary guards—clad in full-plate armor that moved with eerie fluidity, their faces concealed behind impassive iron masks. They advanced methodically, undeterred by the chaos.
Redd raised his dart gun, firing wildly. The projectiles pinged harmlessly off the enforcers' plating, not even slowing them. Varell followed suit, panic in his eyes.
One enforcer surged forward with surprising speed, a thin wire ejecting from his gauntlet like a whip. It latched onto Varell's arm. A surge of electricity crackled through the line, Varell's body convulsing as his skeleton illuminated in a grotesque flash beneath his skin. He screamed, a raw, guttural cry, before collapsing unconscious.
Redd's hands trembled, his weapon dropping as he fell to his knees in surrender. "Please... I give up."
An enforcer loomed over him, wire extending. A minute later, Redd's own scream pierced the night, his form jerking violently before going still.
Meanwhile, Erica pushed the van to its limits, the engine whining in protest. The pursuing vehicles were closing in, their lights flashing like predatory eyes in the darkness. But something worse was building inside her—a throbbing headache that started as a dull ache and escalated rapidly.
She gripped the wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road ahead. *Not now... push through.* But the pain tripled, a vise clamping down on her skull. She gnashed her teeth, a silent scream tearing from her throat. Her vision blurred, her hands involuntarily releasing the steering wheel to clutch her head. Her body felt like it was igniting from within—no, her blood was boiling, a fire coursing through her veins.
The van swerved wildly, veering off the pavement and slamming into a streetlight pole with a deafening crunch. Metal twisted, glass shattered, and the vehicle came to a shuddering halt.
The enforcers' vehicles encircled the wreck, their doors flying open as armored figures emerged, weapons drawn.
Erica stumbled out of the driver's side, collapsing to her knees on the cold asphalt. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, warm and sticky. The infernal pain subsided as suddenly as it had struck, leaving her gasping.
Then, in the haze of her vision, something impossible materialized—a glowing panel flickering before her eyes, cycling through hues of gold, purple, and red. Words etched themselves into the air, ethereal and insistent.
> User has unlocked all bloodlines.
> Naming… Elara Bloodline.
> Choose active bloodline.
"What the hell?!" Erica gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. The world tilted, darkness encroaching at the edges of her sight. Before she could process the apparition, her strength failed her completely, and she slumped forward into unconsciousness, the glowing words fading like a dream into the night.