Boundless Chronicles

Chapter 17: The Impossible Survival, II

…It was a trap.

The Cool air rushing out of the ventilation shaft smelled of ozone and scorched copper.

Noël looked up into the dark mouth of the pipe. A pair of cold, unblinking eyes stared back down at them from the shadows.

"Step back," Gideon Vance said quietly. His hand drifted back to the hilt of his silver rapier, the muscles in his forearm tightening. "That isn't a Syndicate hit Squad."

"Of Course it isn't," Noël said.

He made a dark expression. In the 3rd timeline's ghost-memories, this was the exact position where the auxiliary reconnaissance unit of the Aethelgard Vanguard intercepted surviving transit groups. They didn't negotiate. They Classified anyone coming out of an unauthorized utility shaft as contaminated.

A figure dropped soundlessly from the mouth of the shaft, landing on the metal grating right in front of them.

Kuuong!

The floor plates groaned. The newcomer wore heavy, matte-black plate armor stamped with the soaring eagle insignia of the Vanguard. He didn't carry a rifle. Instead, a massive, double-bladed polearm rested across his shoulders, its edges glowing with a pale, cold blue ether.

Commander Vane of the Vanguard's outer patrol.

"Incarnation Gideon," the commander spoke, his synthesized voice cutting through the hum of the server vault. "You are trespassing in a quarantined Mnemonic sector."

Gideon stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "Commander Vane. I am acting under direct audit clearance from the Capital."

"Your clearance expired ten minutes ago when the Mnemonic Ledger density crossed the red line." Vane shifted the polearm off his shoulders, the blue ether flaring brighter. "Every soul coming out of this zone must be purged to prevent timeline bleeding."

"Purged?" Lyra Thorne grabbed her hydro-spanner, her face draining of color. "We just saved this sector from a Sovereign Core meltdown! You're going to kill us over a bureaucratic rule?"

"Rules are absolute," Vane said flatly.

Noël looked at him and made a slightly complicated expression.

In the first place, Vane wasn't acting on a rule. He was acting on a bribe. The Syndicate had paid the Vanguard outer patrol to clean up the data-vault before the Capital's formal audit team arrived.

He quickly opened his internal interface.

[Current Tribute: 15,400]

[Mnemonic Ledger: 10 / 60 Fractures]

His head throbbed. The pain was sharp, but his physical stats were locked at Lv. 45 Physique and Lv. 50 Agility. The Combat power gap was narrow enough to exploit, but fighting a Vanguard commander head-on at Tier 1 was still suicidal.

He opened his mouth. "Commander Vane."

Vane glanced down at him, his cold visor reflecting his face. "What, vagrant? Do you have last words before the purge?"

"To be exact, your polearm's energy regulator is misaligned."

Vane paused. His grip on the weapon tightened by a fraction of a millimeter. "What did you say?"

"Look at the base of the shaft." Noël pointed his rusted iron pipe toward the dark opening behind Vane. "When you dropped down, your back-mounted generator clipped the maintenance ladder. The pressure seal is venting raw ether. If you ignite that polearm right now, the backfire will vaporize your own torso."

Vane didn't look back. His facial expressions were hidden behind the matte-black helmet, but the slight hesitation in his posture gave him away.

"You're lying to buy time," Vane said.

"Is that so?" Noël smiled. "Try it. Activate your second-stage ether burst. Let's see whose torso melts first."

[The Gallery-being 'The Auditor of Ash' leans forward, holding its breath at your bluff.]

[The Gallery-being 'Seyl the Unblinking' smiles at the psychological warfare.]

[300 Tribute has been sponsored.]

[Current Tribute: 15,700]

Vane's internal tactical display must have been flashing a warning, because his shoulders stiffened. He hadn't noticed the clipping error when he dropped down, but the System's passive diagnostics were likely flagging the micro-fracture right now.

"You're a nuisance," Vane muttered.

He didn't activate the polearm. Instead, he swung the massive haft horizontally in a brutal, sweeping strike meant to shatter Noël's ribs without using ether.

Right side.

Noël quickly moved away from the direction of the attack.

Left thigh.

He dropped his center of gravity, letting the heavy metal haft whistle through the empty air inches above his head.

[Current Fractures: 10]

His vision blurred for a split second, but his ghost-memories filled in the gap. He knew exactly where Vane's blind spot was.

He Concentrated his Strength in his right hand, which held the rusted iron pipe, and swung upward with everything he had.

Peeok!

The iron pipe struck the underside of Vane's shoulder guard, right where the manual release valve was located.

Kwajik!

A hiss of compressed coolant sprayed into the air. Vane stumbled back a step, losing his balance on the slick grating.

"Gideon!" Noël shouted.

Gideon didn't need to be told twice. He closed the distance in a single heartbeat, his silver rapier flashing like a beam of sunlight.

Tiing!

He pressed the point of his blade directly against Vane's neck guard, stopping a millimeter away from the skin.

"The audit is still active, Commander," Gideon said, his voice deadly calm. "Do you want to test my clearance again?"

Vane stood completely still. The hum of his polearm died down entirely. He made a dark expression behind his visor.

"You'll regret this," Vane whispered.

"We already regret being in this sector," Noël said plainly.

He walked past Vane, stepping directly into the upper ventilation tunnel that led to the surface.

[You have cleared the Sub Trial.]

[1,500 Tribute has been acquired.]

[Current Tribute: 17,200]

Elara and Lyra hurried after him, scrambling into the dark metal pipe. Gideon followed closely behind, keeping his eyes locked on Vane until he disappeared into the tunnel.

The metal tube sloped upward, carrying them away from the Zenith District toward the unknown sectors of the upper world.

[Main Scenario #6 progress: 90%]

[Preparing for surface transition.]

Noël closed his eyes and leaned against the cold metal wall of the shaft as they slid upward.