The next day. 7:58 p.m.

[You nervous?]

Yekase’s voice trickled through the headset like cool rain.

“Not really. Thanks to you and Miss Shen…”

[The office trap layout and the Zec mass-production unit tuning—weren’t they mostly you? Win this and take days off. It’s almost time. Center yourself. I’m hanging up.]

“…Mm.”

Jiang Bailu hugged the master control tablet—Yekase’s build—like a talisman against winter, eyes pinned to the wall clock like a hawk to prey.

War was breathing down the corridor.

Three days ago she’d drowned under an overwhelming gap. Now she was counting how to rebuild after swallowing the enemy—disaster relief after a true disaster. The feeling lagged like fog at dawn.

That was the Doctor’s miracle.

She always turned the impossible to possible, like frost becoming crystal.

She fought through dissent to buy a collider to study Flash Energy. She pushed deep-transform mechanism tech. The books stayed pale, but in moments like this—

—those choices became the spine of an org, like pine in storm.

[3—]

[2—]

[1—]

[Shangjing Time: eight o’clock sharp—signal fires lit, war begins!]

Jiang woke the tablet. Semi-transparent light screens bloomed like lotus around her, each showing a corridor corner.

“Car lift One and freight lift Four just kicked in! North gate and emergency passage, watch it!”

Fourth floor… eighth… fifteenth… nineteenth.

The elevator doors peeled open like steel eyelids. Two squads in uniform with guns poured out like wolves from mist.

“They’re two combat teams. Let them in.”

[Received.] [Copy!]

Four junior cadres answered from the north gate and the emergency passage. Skilled enough to stand midstream. In mass-produced rigs, fighting combatants was waste. Against the Malefic Gods, they were dust. So they ran gates.

Triple Calamity’s combatants found no guard at the door, like tide slipping past rocks. They frowned, radioed, then chose to storm straight for the dragon’s den.

Empty-fort ploy?

That trick was old and sun-bleached.

They entered Unrecognized Consortium X’s office zone without a single ripple, yet joy didn’t spark. The room felt hollow as a husk.

Free progress.

Was it really?

“…Search.”

The captain’s order cut like a blade. Fighters scattered like a skyful of stars into the workstations. As expected, not a single warm body hid there.

Curiosity tugged at someone’s hands like a red thread.

There might be trade secrets, he thought, and lifted a heavy blue folder like a brick from a river.

“DeWort Twin-Gun Style,” the cover read. He opened it—

“…Cing.”

Huh?

Metal slid, like a bolt being racked in a cold shed.

Under the cover wasn’t a stack of A4, but a square bundle wrapped in wire and tape, a lump like a black heart.

…A grenade.

Boom—!!

“Ahhhhhh!”

“What the hell?!”

The blast and screams clawed the air like talons, yet smoke hugged only that single cubicle, a neat shroud. It didn’t seep. Even teammates nearby saw only gray.

“Captain! Number Four got hit by a bomb!”

“I know! I’m asking why there’s a bomb ri—”

He choked, then the pattern clicked like flint.

Doors unguarded. Office scrubbed like a stage. Sweet surfaces, sharp edges.

This wasn’t an empty fort. The floor under their boots was the battlefield.

“All units—full alert!!”

Boom! Boom! Boom!!

A chain of blasts rippled like a serpent’s scales. Three separate cubicles bucked with heat. Those fighters had dropped their folders after the first blast; the traps caught them anyway, teeth behind sugar.

A cold bead slid down the captain’s cheek like sleet. He clenched his radio, tried to warn the other squad. Only static hissed, a dry wind through reeds.

…Sss.

The noise died.

“This is Venom Squad, calling Calamity Squad, calling Calamity Squad!”

[You’ve dialed the wrong line.]

“Uh, my bad…”

He lowered the radio and stared, a heartbeat caught in throat.

“Kill your radios! Our internal channel’s leaked! Damn it, how—”

His gaze swept the room. The scene barely changed, yet it turned fairy-tale bright like a candy house, with fangs under the icing, ready to swallow men whole.

The wall clock ticked to 8:05.

From the first step inside, including the elevator ride, only five minutes had bled away like sand.

“Ika… that lunatic. Guarding this place even in death…! All units, stay clear of the desks!”

A fighter backing off bumped a swivel chair. The chair spun and clipped a plastic partition. He lost balance and dropped onto the seat like a sack.

“Uh—”

Shunk!

Pain seized his face like a vise; blood pasted his lips.

A steel post from the chair base had speared up through the cushion, pinned him like a butterfly.

“They trapped the chairs! Everything else too! Heads up, keep spread!”

“Weren’t they supposed to be weak?”

“Where are their fighters…”

Five gone without a glimpse of an enemy. Nerves frayed like rope in rain. One closest to the door dropped his weapon and bolted for light.

“Number Nine! What the hell are you—”

“I got parents and kids! I don’t wanna get blown up or crushed by a robot! I quit!”

Nine sprinted for the gate. As his right foot crossed the threshold, the sensor door beeped like an icy pin, then slammed at impossible speed, a steel jaw clipping his waist.

“Uwah! It hurts… pull me—ahhh! Ahhh—”

The door sealed.

When they entered, the gate hid flush inside the wall, a quiet shadow. Only now did they see it wasn’t a glass slider at all—

—it was a vault-grade steel door, a mountain in metal.

Now, no one was getting out.

The captain drew a breath that rattled like winter reeds. Fighters near him heard the tremor in his inhale.

“Venom Squad—sound off!”

“One!” “Three!” “Six!” “Seven!” “Ten!” “Eleven!” “Thirteen!” “Fourteen!” “Fifteen!”

“Shen Shanshan will move at T+10. She’ll have a tool to open this gate. Don’t panic! We won’t waste five brothers’ blood. Win this, and you’ll be publicly commended!”

He paused, then let the blade show.

“As for those who fled… you saw their end.”

Under stick more than carrot, Triple Calamity’s fighters swallowed fear like bitter tea, then pushed forward. If death’s a coin toss, a clean blast beats Nine’s fate. Maybe luck crowns me, they thought. Maybe I’m the chosen.

They crept, eyes glued to their own steps like cats on ice.

“Through that far door is their R&D and production. Even a madman won’t blow his own machines. Get past this, and we’re safe!”

“Cap, maybe you lead? Set the tone,” Number One said, voice half-joke, half anchor. He was senior after the captain, the usual jester who steps up when the cliff shows.

“If I die, who commands? You?”

“Me.”

“Cut it. You lead.”

Number One trudged forward like a man to rain.

A low red beam skimmed from the left workstation like a snake. His boot landed on it.

“…Ah.”

He knew he’d tripped it. He dropped flat, muscles limp as rope.

A steel wire snapped through the air like a whip.

The hiss hadn’t finished reaching ears when two fighters near him screamed and toppled like felled saplings.

“We’ll have to rebuild the unit after this, Cap.”

“You’ll get a major demerit.”

“Nooo—”

He mouthed jokes, but the shock hit bone. He got serious, cracked several traps like nuts, and led the survivors out of the office zone.

The captain leaned on a wall and let breath out like steam. “Phew… we’re in. Five minutes rest, right here. Wonder how Calamity Squad’s doing…”

He fiddled the radio, fishing in a dry well. Triple Calamity’s channel stayed dead.

Not one Consortium X fighter had shown. Not even a cadre. Traps alone cut them past half. Who was Consortium X’s commander, the hand behind the web?

This was a swallow-and-merge war.

It meant much to the bosses, sure, bright banners and tall thrones. But it was still a power game, a storm in a city’s bowl.

Was it worth it? Wreck your base to maul the enemy. Whoever wins, the ground’s scorched. It felt like juicing in a curbside basketball game, injuring foes with dirty plays.

Madness. He couldn’t find another reason.

“…Rest’s over. Venom Squad, sound off.”

“One!” “Six!” “Seven!” “Ten!” “Eleven!” “Thirteen!” “Fourteen!” “Fifteen!”

…

…Huh?

Eight voices.

He replayed the double kill from Number One’s screw-up. The fallen were… Three and… Ten.

Ten?

“Get away from Ten! He’s—”

Ten stood from the floor and lifted an invisible skirt hem like a lady at court.

“Thank you for using the Laina-class Flash Energy maid automaton. Now executing preloaded directive number two.”

“—Self-destruct.”

Boom!!