[380] 5.3 The Powderkeg

Within a minute, I’m back out of the door and leaving the complex.  In contrast to the security checkpoint I had to go through to get inside the facility, nothing stops me from taking to the sky and bolting out at top speed.  In the back of my [Valkyrion’s Perception], I notice Mom following me out the door and waving.  I can’t stop, not if lives are on the line, but I can at least grant her the courtesy of a brief wave in return.

I blitz forward at top speed, beelining my way for the army base on the western edge of the city, hoping that this isn’t going to be what I fear it will.  There have been scares before, warships and fleets of soldiers from various global factions mobilizing as if to launch an alpha strike on the United States before we can mobilize countermeasures.  Every time, it’s later proven just to be military exercises.  But not for a second does anyone believe that these exercises aren’t just practice for the real thing, the opening salvo in a third world war that will make the first two look like a warm and friendly discussion.

About halfway there, I notice the most radiant and elegant face ever known to this universe or any other.  Chloe, my love, clad in her [Auracite Armor] and with her twin swords, [Lumen] and [Aria], sheathed at her side, is flying toward the same direction as I, and stops for long enough for me to catch up to her.

“Certainly took your time getting here, Sera.”  Chloe grins.  “Or have these long years of peace dulled your flight speed?”

I shake my head.  “Mom and I took a moment to comfort one another before I left.  Considering everything, it was well worth the one minute I lost.”

Chloe just nods.  Without another word needing to be spoken between us, we fly hand-in-hand toward our destination, landing just outside the base’s one-mile no-fly zone.  Back in the day, we would have and did gladly ignore any such regulations for the sake of convenience.  Now, with their aerial defenses bolstered just the same as the Jacobs compound, we have no choice but to drop down to the surface and make our way through the security checkpoint, having our identities verified through government ID and biometric analysis both before being permitted onto the military institution.

Soldiers turn to us with respectful nods.  Although the two of us are not officially part of the armed forces or any official chain-of-command, we’ve fought alongside most of them in more than enough battles for our presence to be recognized and our contributions to the safety of our home and the nation respected.

“Ma’ams,” a uniformed man says.  “The lieutenant colonel is expecting you and has requested you head to her office without delay.”

I’m amazed at the speed at which Lt. Colonel Morris— Alana, First Lieutenant Alana Morris when we first met her close to three and a half years ago— has been promoted through the ranks.  Back around the time we cleared out the local Tower Gauntlet in the summer of 2023, she’d received a promotion to the rank of captain as former Major, now Major General Richardson prepared her for command.  I know she’d been promoted to major herself about a year ago; I didn’t realize in the two months since we last talked that she’d been given another promotion into the ranks of the senior officers, and all before her thirty-second birthday.

That doesn’t comfort me; if the military is feeling the need to swell the ranks of its senior officers, that suggests that they’re gearing for mobilization.  My heart quickens and I can feel it hitching up in my throat as adrenaline surges through me, bracing me for a showdown.  I’m fearing the worst, and it takes all I have to fight down the urge to race into a battle that may not even be happening and if so is taking place thousands of miles away.  Only the fact that soldiers aren’t scrambling already gives me a dim relief that something terrible isn’t already upon us.

Cold sweat drips down my clammy palms as I step into the administration building in the center of the compound.  Chloe’s stare is resolute, walking beside me, hand in hand.  I can feel her fear as well through our [Angelic Bond], but her physical sensations are far more muted than my own.  Perhaps her class gives her fear resistance.  It’s not too dissimilar from that [Paladin] class I was offered way back in the day, and they’re known for that sort of thing.

In either case, our guide leads us through the drilling soldiers, though instead of marching in formation and doing push-ups, the drill instructors are supervising combat training much the way that Chloe and I do back at the university.  I can even see the healers on standby, given the same latitude and deference to intervene that I give Chloe when my students spar.  It’s a relief that we’ve largely converged on the same methods for training new fighters and training their Skills; it makes me think that I haven’t wholly screwed my current and former students over.

One knock on the door and a stern ‘Enter’ follows.  Our chaperone bows slightly, then departs, allowing us to enter an office and see a woman both familiar, though not the juxtaposition thereof.

Alana sits wearing a shining silver breastplate and with immaculate posture, moving through document after document as she furiously types down various correspondences.  Out of respect for her privacy and military confidentiality, I pull [Valkyrion’s Perception] inward and avoid reading the screens facing away from me or tracking her dozens of keystrokes each second, both of which would be trivial at my current level.  Finally, after thirteen seconds— I counted— she hits the enter button with a loud click and turns to the two of us.

“Seraphina, Chloe,” she says.  “I apologize for the sudden and frantic nature of our conversation.  I also apologize that I’m short on time and would prefer to skip the formalities and pleasantries.”  Alana sighs.  “It appears that it’s time.”

My heart sinks down into my stomach as the two of us sit down.  Lindsey predicted we’d get eighteen months to two years of relative, so the fact that we actually got three should come as a comfort.  But it’s very, very hollow one.  And I promised that I was going to retire from fighting after the battle with the Legion.  Nevertheless, I live in this world and therefore a threat to it is a threat to me, necessitating that I take up arms once more in defense of all that I care about.

“What specifics can you tell us?” Chloe says.

“There have been a number of geopolitical powderkegs that we’ve been keeping an eye out for.  The Middle East, of course, alongside the Russia- NATO border, China and Taiwan, some revolutionary movements in sub-Saharan Africa.  But it appears that the proximal cause of the current conflict we’re keeping an eye on is centered on Korea.”

“Korea.”  I say.  “Makes sense.  What specifically happened?”

“Well, relations between the North and South have never been good, and fighting along the Demilitarized Zone has been ongoing over the past year or two despite the increasingly antiquated name of the border divide.”

Alana purses her lips.  “The two nations have taken divergent pathways in terms of their military doctrine in response to the System’s arrival on Earth.  South Korea has mobilized a system of semi-nationalized guilds not unlike the one Lindsey and Stefan used to lead back in Red Clay City a couple years back.  They, with the state and their megaconglomerates backing them, have been sending military and volunteer forces to conquer the various dungeons and Tower Gauntlets throughout their nation.  Most prestigious among them is the Seoul Tower Gauntlet, with a recommended level— according to their government’s reporting— for clearing it of 125.”

“Someone’s already level 125?” I ask, incredulous.  It should be exceedingly difficult to get anywhere near that just due to the dearth of Experience and the severity of Experience scaling vis a vis level gaps.  In short, there just aren’t enough creatures with levels nearing the fourth ascension for anyone to get to that high of a level.

“Not to our knowledge,” Alana says.  “Although there are teams getting close to clearing it.  No, the problem is on the other side of the border.  The North, in keeping with their usual policies, has diverted nearly all resources, from Skill Books to those [Level Apples] to [Experience Pouches] to rare artifacts and priceless pieces of armor to the higher-ups in the Korean Workers’ Party.”

“Oh goddesses above,” I say.  It was something I’d feared back when I first learned about the [Level Apple], how they could be used to supercharge someone to ungodly high levels.  Though my fears were well-founded, I’d completely underestimated the scale of the crisis.  I was thinking nepo-babies and American oligarchs offering princely sums for the chance at so much personal power, rather than strongmen overseas diverting an entire nation’s resources for their own personal profit.

“So, one of these leaders decided to lash out against the South and elicited a retaliatory strike?”  I ask.  “Then things escalated, regional partnerships got involved, defense treaties are now being invoked, and pretty soon, both China and the States are going to get embroiled in this conflict on account of defending their allies.  In short, we’re all spiraling into World War III and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

“Unfortunately, that’s about the long and short of it,” Alana says.  “Were you both past your third ascension, I might see to it that you be involved in some sort of strike team to assassinate–”

“No,” Chloe says.  “Though I wield the sword, I am still a healer at heart, not an assassin.  I don’t wish to go back to battles of aggression against parties who have not attacked us first.”

Alana shakes her head.  “I do understand your concerns, Chloe.  However, sometimes the best way to heal someone is to protect them prophylactically.  I thought that was what you told me a couple years ago when we were dealing with the Rivermen Rebellion.”

Chloe just crosses her arms.  “I’ve thought about it more since then, come to terms with what it means to be a [Holy Avenger].  I–”  She pauses.  “I’ve done too much avenging and not enough being holy and using these hands to heal rather than harm.”

“Chloe, I know I don’t have either the authority or the ability to command either of you, and so what I ask is just a request, rather than an order.  I received reports a few days ago about a new dungeon appearing in the skies over the north Atlantic Ocean.  Based on preliminary analysis of the dungeon’s Ether signature, we believe that the dungeon has a recommended level of approximately 92.  As such, I’ve already put forward your names and received writs of passage for the two of you to venture there and conquer it.”

“And if we say no?” Chloe asks.

“Then that’s that, I suppose.”

Alana’s eyes shift to the side, and her tone is forlorn.  I believe she’s true to her word that she won’t try to force us, but I sense it would be quite the hardship on her, and her professional reputation might suffer as a result.

Professionally, I don’t care about military politics.  Personally, though, Chloe and I have a better working relationship with Alana than we did with Nicholas, and probably would with a hypothetical successor.  A dungeon date sounds kinda nice this time of the year.  And most importantly, if war is coming, there’s no harm in being as prepared as possible in advance.

“Let’s do this,” Chloe says.  “If war is going to come to our home and threaten our family, I want to be ready.”

And I do too.  “So, Major Morris,” I say, standing up and offering a handshake.  “When do we leave?”

“Can you depart first thing tomorrow morning?”

Chloe and I turn to one another and share an unspoken agreement between us.  “We’ll be at the airport at dawn.”