¡Felicidades por las 2.1k lecturas, Isael! Ese crecimiento es una señal clara de que el público angloparlante está enganchado con el misterio de los "Niveles" y la frialdad de Topec. Este capítulo es magistral: la traición de Lute, la revelación del Nivel 11 y la transformación de los empleados en unidades Nivel 0 crean un escenario de "todos contra todos" digno de un final de temporada.
Aquí tienes la traducción al inglés, manteniendo el pulso tecnológico y el horror corporativo:
Luxor Paradise: Apex Hunt - Chapter 22: The Hostile Takeover
The light filters grudgingly through the boards where I protect what remains of my humanity. The casualties among my employees are enough to make me reconsider closing the place—at least, that's what my business management system says. Outside, the war continues.
The new visitors aren't looking for technology, at least not on the surface. They are eliminating everyone who lacks actual knowledge of how to run my resort. Seventy percent of my waiters are dead; the comfort ladies, all gone. The chefs have survived. I request a status report: the material damage is irrelevant, but the number of attackers and the weaponry used point to a combined assault by several corporations, including their owners. This isn't just an invasion; it's a forced acquisition. For now, I can do nothing until the protocol takes effect.
Around 17:00 hours, the protocol begins to activate. It's one of the booth employees; his head has a hole that is currently closing. In a godforsaken town in the north of my country, Formula Three is about to generate one of the worst terrors ever seen.
Those helping me now know what's coming; they are the ones who loved this place because it provided them with camaraderie. I explained what would happen, so they don't flinch when the first one rises in a macabre dance driven by a shattered spine.
Defensive Penetration: 40%
Control Room: Lost
Support Room: Operational
Invaded Labs: 0%
Armories: 50%
Levels Compromised: 1 to 5
Infection: 80%
A cup appears in my hand—did I pour it? I communicate with the rest. "Status of the project?"
The communication is encrypted to prevent tracking. "Sir... they haven't found anything. It's possible they're broadcasting interference material," a voice crackles. "Mr. Lute insists his forces can kill everyone. The Level 0 creatures are about to attack with our defenses down! We won't be able to hold them off!"
"Don't worry. I have a plan."
I slip silently out of my bedroom. The place is a wreck, everything smashed to pieces. Stumbling, I reach a laundry equipment room. Almost the entire facility can be monitored from the control centers, but little can be manipulated without multiple passwords. The master override for all of it is here, in my control room—the room that originally belonged to the Director.
Level 6 Assets... eliminated.
"Dammit!" Time is running out. As soon as I enter, the equipment requires a voice password, or I will be annihilated.
"Evil and lies are in the eyes of the beholder."
The lights go out, and the alarms fall silent. The second part of the code must be entered, or an odorless gas will kill everyone in the room.
"Truth and goodness in acts, as well as their consequences."
Nothing happens. That is what matters. I activate some computers—old ones, because I can't allow anyone to replace them. First, I speak with Mr. Lute.
"It seems you've had time to recover." On my screen, a man who had just won the lottery couldn't have a better expression. "So, you want the company? I thought you only wanted to reach Level 10."
"Mr. Topec, you take me far too seriously." His eyes don't smile; he knows he holds all the cards. "You're wrong. I'm not looking for a company. I'm looking for you!"
"I'm honored, but most of the specialists residing here could provide you with the specimens I produce. Besides, the military wouldn't come, and you could grow wealthy if you help me."
"Ah, yes, your shadow businessman, the 'narco.' Mr. Topec, I supply weapons to the gentleman you mention. And as for your specialists, indeed, they could replicate your formula up to Levels 6 and 7, but the solution that grants vitality to the participants is a mystery. You've given me impressive health. I'm fifty-five, and my physical condition puts young athletes to shame. That is why I want you!"
I now have a very clear idea of who brought them here.
"Mr. Lute, that's exactly what I wanted to discuss. Level 10 is only for those who desire glory, for those seeking to transcend. My hidden formula is in Level 11, along with the company papers and my contract. You can access it without trouble as long as you guarantee that none of my research staff will suffer. Listen to the announcement I'm about to make to the invaders. If after this you agree with me, I only ask that you do not enter the resort. Buy out your rival companies; when they die, you can acquire them during the shock, and you will be a man so powerful that we will gladly serve you."
Before he can respond, I activate the loudspeakers: "Gentlemen, seeing as you aren't finding much entertainment, the Luxor is pleased to invite you to use your security guards and private armies to destroy the assets you left in the resort. This will not be free, of course. Each of you will be granted a pardon for this incident and will be awarded the Type Three formula to analyze and employ in your troops. The attackers are Level 0, so I trust they won't cause you any trouble."
Ten hateful minutes pass. Then, groups break away from the main bodies. My Level 7 assets will handle the two hundred who remain.
"Mr. Lute, do you accept my proposal?"
On the screen, we both watch as ten attackers riddle a maid with bullets. She advances with indifference; the new tendons resist the impacts, the muscle tissue remains unbothered. The new brain in her spine, substituting part of the spinal cord, sends signals. She reaches the first one with one of her plump hands, which breaks as it penetrates the victim's neck. Without a second thought, she turns and pursues the rest. There are a thousand Level 0 units.
"What do you say? The level that holds my person, the Formula Three papers, and the company—in exchange for ensuring no one escapes and buying out the companies attacking me?"
"Mr. Topec... you are a bastard. I mean that as a compliment."