Chapter 133: The Countdown 2

Chapter 133: Chapter 133: The Countdown 2

*4:00 P.M.*

Liora lay flat on her stomach across her bed, her bare feet swinging lazily in the air. Her portable console was propped up against her pillow, its screen displaying an open forum filled with user reviews for an upcoming action-adventure game.

"Seventy-two percent rating?" Liora muttered, her lips forming a small pout. "That’s kind of low."

She scrolled down with her thumb.

’Story is too short.’ Scroll.

’Too many unskippable cutscenes.’ Scroll.

’Boss fights are repetitive garbage.’ Scroll.

Then her eyes caught a glowing five-star review at the bottom of the thread: ’The combat system has incredible depth if you actually learn the combo mechanics. Best release this year.’

Liora tapped on the attached gameplay clip. The video showed two characters chaining sword attacks and magic spells together in seamless co-op combos.

Her pink eyes lit up. "Oh, the co-op looks really fun."

She pulled up a digital notepad on her console and carefully jotted down the title.

Then her mind immediately wandered to Felix.

She imagined sitting on the couch in his living room, handing him the second controller, watching him furrow his brow as he tried to figure out the button layouts, and then laughing as she carried him through the boss fights.

She glanced at the small calendar pinned above her desk. Next week, her mandatory one-month review would officially clear her for supervised outdoor leave.

Felix had promised to take her out of the facility for an entire afternoon.

"He’s definitely going to complain about the camera controls," she giggled softly to herself, hugging her knees to her chest. "Just five more days."

*6:00 P.M.*

Inside Vesper’s cell, the air smelled faintly of sweat and chalk.

Vesper didn’t believe in taking days off. While the other prisoners rested, she maintained a strict physical regimen.

Even with her mana temporarily sealed by dampening bands, her baseline physical conditioning was elite.

She dropped to the concrete floor, knocking out her final set of one-armed push-ups with smooth, rhythmic precision. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.

She pushed back onto her feet, grabbed a clean white towel from the shelf, and wiped the sweat from her neck. She sat on the edge of the cot, leaning her head back against the cool wall and closing her eyes.

Her mind instantly replayed the plastic chessboard from Thursday.

Felix’s moves. The bishop sacrifice. The trap she thought she had sprung. The quiet, effortless way he had countered her rook and slipped into a checkmate.

Her eyes snapped open, a sharp frown settling over her face. "He knew exactly what I was thinking."

She stood up and began pacing the small cell, her hands tucked into her pockets.

"He saw me hunting his queen. He intentionally left the lane open because he knew I couldn’t resist a direct kill." She stopped by the table, staring at the empty squares. "Next week, he’ll expect me to play defensively. He’ll expect me to hold the center."

She shook her head. "No. If I play defensively, he’ll just build an outpost and grind me down. He wants me to think about defense."

She rubbed her temples with an irritated groan. "Damn it, Felix."

She let out a short, self-deprecating breath. It was absurd. She had spent a decade hunting politicians, crime lords, and high-ranking officials in the shadows, yet right now, she was obsessing over the movements of wooden knights and pawns.

A faint, private smile touched her lips as she sat back down on her bed.

"Next week," she whispered to the empty room.

*8:00 P.M.*

Night fell over the mountain range, cloaking Acheron Deep in dense, pitch-black shadows.

Inside the central operations hub, the night-shift security team took over their stations.

Commander Alden Rook stood behind the primary control console, methodically reviewing the hourly reports.

Elena Voss had departed at eight that morning for her approved family leave. Warden Gideon Rask had left by military transport at one in the afternoon. With both the higher authority absent, Rook held full operational authority over the entire complex.

A junior guard glanced over from a camera terminal, offering a tired smile. "Quiet shift so far, Commander. Let’s hope it stays boring all night."

Rook didn’t smile. He looked at the guard with a stern, unblinking stare. "Don’t ever say that out loud, son."

The guard blinked nervously. "Sir?"

"Saying the word ’quiet’ is how you invite a disaster," Rook replied flatly. "Keep your eyes on the sensor feeds."

"Yes, sir. Understood."

Rook turned back to his monitors, his fingers resting lightly on the emergency lockdown switch.

10:00 P.M.

A set of bright high-beam headlights pierced the darkness along the winding mountain road leading to Acheron Deep’s outer security perimeter.

Three heavily armored, matte-black transport trucks rolled to a halt in front of the reinforced steel gates. The lead vehicle’s engine cut with a heavy hiss of hydraulics.

CLACK. THUD.

Doors swung open in unison.

Armed figures stepped down onto the tarmac. Five. Ten. Twenty. Fifty.

Over fifty high-ranking strike heroes and private tactical operators fanned out across the checkpoint, fully clad in matte-black combat armor, carrying specialized mana-suppression carbines and heavy breaching gear.

The watchtower searchlights snapped on instantly, flooding the road in blinding white light. Sirens gave two short, sharp warning chirps.

"Hold your positions!" a tower guard barked over the loudspeaker, aiming a heavy barrier cannon down at the convoy. "State your identification and business!"

A squad leader in Association officer gear stepped into the light, holding up a digital authorization badge. "Special Operations Strike Unit. We have high-priority transfer orders directly from the High Directorate."

The guard scanned the digital badge. The credentials flagged green, indicating valid administrative clearance, but the sheer size of the armed force set off every red flag in the manual.

"Hold outside the perimeter," the guard commanded, keeping his rifle raised. "Acheron Deep is currently operating under restricted visitation protocols. I am notifying the acting warden."

The officer scowled. "We have tier-one clearance, soldier. Open the gate immediately."

"You wait outside," the guard said, unmoved.

He tapped his comm line. "Commander Rook. We have a situation at the main gate."

In the command center, Rook pressed his earpiece. "Report."

"An Association convoy just arrived at the outer gate, sir. Three armored transports, over fifty armed operatives. They are presenting High Directorate transfer orders."

Rook’s eyes turned to cold flint. "Fifty armed heroes? At ten at night?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do not cycle the inner locks," Rook ordered, pushing away from the console. "Keep them behind the secondary barrier. I’m coming down myself."

Two minutes later, Rook stepped out into the chilly night air, flanked by four senior guards with heavy shields. He walked up to the reinforced chain-link inner gate, his sharp gray eyes sweeping across the small army waiting on the road.

Every single one of them was an A-rank or higher, geared for urban warfare, carrying gear designed specifically to neutralize awakened humans.

Rook’s veteran instincts screamed at him. This wasn’t an inspection. This was an assault formation.

He stepped forward, keeping his posture rigid and calm. "I am Commander Alden Rook, acting warden of Acheron Deep. What is the meaning of this unannounced deployment?"

Before the squad leader could speak, two figures stepped out from the shadows between the armored transports.

They wore formal Association executive coats over tailored suits.

Director Vance and Director Corvin Draeger.

Rook recognized them immediately. He brought his right hand to his temple in a crisp, formal salute. "Directors."

Vance stopped three paces from the gate, his hands casually tucked into his coat pockets. A cold, polite smile touched his wrinkled face. "At ease, Commander Rook."

Rook lowered his hand, his eyes tracking between the two councilmen. "May I ask what brings two senior directors to a maximum-security prison in the middle of the night? Warden Rask was deployed on an emergency assignment hours ago. If this is an administrative audit, I can patch a secure line to his transport."

Vance let out a dry, quiet chuckle, his eyes gleaming with hidden malice under the security lights.

"There’s no need to disturb Gideon, Commander," Vance said softly, glancing past Rook toward the dark concrete entrance of the facility. "We aren’t here for an audit."

A gust of freezing mountain wind swept across the asphalt.

Corvin Draeger stepped up beside Vance, his expression hard as granite, his cold stare boring into the prison doors where his father’s killer was currently sleeping.

"We are here on official executive business," Corvin said, his voice flat and merciless. "Open the gates, Commander."

Rook looked at Corvin, then at Vance, and finally at the fifty heavily armed strike operatives standing in total, eerie silence behind them.

His gut had never lied to him.

The directors weren’t here to inspect Acheron Deep.

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