Six in the morning. The last drop of condensation dripped from the P2 level.
Jason stood before the holographic projection on the management sub-panel. His hands trembled.
"Boss," Jason stared at the dense array of red dots on the screen, "these are…"
"Patrol routes." Allen zipped up his backpack. "You only have monitoring and basic parameter tuning privileges. Lina is in charge of perimeter security and collecting BP." Lina leaned against a pillar, tossing the crescent-shaped dagger in her hand.
"Don't touch the red parameter bar." Lina pointed the tip of her dagger at the screen in front of Jason. "The last person who touched it turned the entire third floor into an acid pool." Jason immediately withdrew his finger.
Allen walked towards the exit.
"The death row command has been written into the system." Allen, his back to them, said, "Anyone attempting to approach the Heart of the Dungeon, including the two of you, will have their hunting protocol automatically activated by the Abyss Watchers. No exceptions." Jason swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed.
Entrusting his back to someone else was extremely risky. Physical distance would cut off direct intervention. Jason was afraid of death; Lena needed her brother to live.
That was enough.
The Greyhound bus wheels rolled over speed bumps.
Allen leaned against the second-to-last row window seat. The previous passenger had left chip crumbs on the dark blue velvet seat.
He didn't fly. GWA had deployed high-precision energy scanners at airport security. C-level Awakened individuals passing through would leave an unalterable network record.
The management panel shrank to the lower left corner of his view. Data from the three dungeons scrolled down in green characters.
BP production in the Brooklyn Ruins was skyrocketing. Victor Stone's public platform was active. Applications for small and medium-sized guilds were booked until next month.
BP balance: 67,200.
Three days ago it was 3,700. The leverage effect of the S-level platform had increased production by an order of magnitude.
Beside the data stream, a dark red eye pulsed steadily. It moved south along with the bus's GPS coordinates.
2 PM. Union Station.
The moment Allen stepped out of the station's glass doors, his shadow perception struck an invisible wall.
Washington, D.C. Headquarters of the Federal Awakened Administration. SSS-level Awakened residing beneath the White House. The city's perception network density is three times that of New York.
A C-level shadow perception deployed here is equivalent to lighting a flare in the dark.
He immediately contracted his perception. The energy field pressed tightly against his skin. Not a single trace leaked out.
He pulled his hat down low and blended into the crowd of tourists.
Three kilometers southeast of the Capitol.
The civilian navigation system ended at an abandoned subway maintenance station.
The barbed wire fence was covered in red rust. A yellow warning sign hung on it: "Federal Property, Trespassing Prohibited."
Allen braced himself against the top of the barbed wire with one hand, flipping to his feet. His shoes crushed fallen leaves.
The maintenance station entrance was a half-open concrete blast door. The metal surface of the lock was oxidized and blackened. The cutting marks were at least three months old.
Someone had been here. The Cleaner's accelerator requires physical deployment. This is the optimal entry point.
He squeezed sideways through the blast door.
The underground maintenance station was dark.
Allen stood between two rusty railway tracks. The sleepers reeked of decaying wood.
His fingers traced patterns in the air. The construction interface opened.
[Fourth Dungeon Creation Cost: 200,000 BP.] The number was blinding. The cost increased in increments.
A sudden high-frequency vibration shot through his spine. Not pain. The frequency traveled from the ground beneath his feet all the way to his cerebral cortex.
1200 meters underground. The core of the B-grade natural dungeon "Abyss Congress" detected a signal of the same frequency. It was responding.
A new golden notification popped up on the management panel.
[Natural Dungeon Core #0477—Resonance Request: Received.]
[Core structure assistance detected. Creation cost adjustment: 50,000 BP.] The natural core had borne three-quarters of the structural cost for him. This is the significance of building a city close to the target node—not only for resonance coverage, but also for economic feasibility.
[Establish a stable resonance link? Y/N] Confirm creation. Press Y.
BP balance jumps from 67,200 to 17,200.
Dust falls heavily from the maintenance station ceiling.
Fourth dungeon, "Railway Tomb," F-level. Online.
A diamond-shaped opening forms in the center of the rails, emitting a blinding blue light.
A red warning box suddenly covers half the field of vision.
External monitoring triggered.
In the direction of the maintenance station entrance. Two points of light. Approaching at high speed.
Energy level: B-level.
Allen steps off the rails and ducks into a maintenance recess in the side wall.
The newly built dungeon entrance is in the stabilization phase. The blue light will last for five minutes. Cannot be hidden.
Footsteps bounce in the tunnel. Military boots crunch on gravel.
A man and a woman. Pure black tactical uniforms. Not the standard blue-gray color scheme of GWA.
The metal badge on his chest gleamed. The design was a key broken in half.
The Cleaners. A real, tangible entity.
"The accelerator's charging progress is thirty-seven percent." The man's voice echoed in the tunnel. "The core of the 'Abyss Congress' has begun to exhibit unstable fluctuations, four days earlier than expected."
"Headquarters has new instructions." The woman's boots clicked on the rails. "If the core awakens on its own before charging is complete, detonate it prematurely. Better a dirty explosion than let it awaken. The objective remains the same: kill the consciousness."
"An abnormal signal appeared in the maintenance monitoring." The man stopped. "About twenty minutes ago. The coordinates are inside this maintenance station." Allen's fingers clenched. His nails dug into the concrete cracks in the recessed wall.
They came for the signal.
The woman stopped. Six meters from the recess where Allen was hiding.
She crouched down. Her palm pressed against the steel surface of the rails.
A semi-transparent energy wave radiated from her palm. A scanning skill.
The management panel flickered wildly.
[External scan contacts the dungeon entrance's energy field! Risk of identity exposure: Extremely high!] Once the entrance is discovered, tracing back to the red-hook zone via the nodes is only a matter of time.
Allen's left hand flew across the panel.
Forcefully accelerate the stabilization process.
[Warning: Forced acceleration will consume an additional 10,000 BP. Confirm?] Confirm.
BP balance jumps from 17,200 to 7,200.
The blue light in the center of the rails contracted and disappeared in a second. The surface physics of the diamond-shaped opening restructured, disguising itself as old concrete perfectly matching the surrounding ground.
An energy wave swept across the disguised entrance. Sweeped across the recess where Allen was hiding.
The fully converged Shadow Perception didn't stir up any ripples.
The woman stood up. Brushed the dust off her gloves.
"The signal disappeared," she said. "Probably interference from the oscillation radiation of the 'Abyss Congress' core. There's nothing here. Let's go."
The two turned. The sound of military boots faded into the distance.
Allen didn't emerge from the recess until the light disappeared from the surveillance grid.
His shirt was soaked with sweat. A cold draft rushed into the tunnel, taking away his body heat.
His phone screen lit up.
He typed a message and sent it to Robert.
"The Cleaners aren't invisible. They have uniforms. Black. The badge is a broken key. They have a physical operations team in Washington. The Abyss Congress's accelerator is 37 percent charged."
Thirty seconds later. Robert's reply arrived.
"Broken key. I've seen that symbol before. A decommissioned department of the GWA's Internal Security Division—the 'Blockade Protocol Enforcement Team.' It was disbanded three years ago along with the conclusion of the Manhattan outbreak investigation. They continued operating under a different name."
A second message popped up immediately.
"Allen, if they have an operations team in DC, they must have one in New York too. Your three underground cities—" Robert hadn't finished reading the message when his control panel and phone vibrated simultaneously.
Jason's text message.
"Boss, there's a problem. The surveillance cameras around the Brooklyn Ruins detected three points of light. Not adventurers. They're installing something around the warehouse. Metal devices. I don't recognize them." Allen's gaze shifted to the left.
The management panel's automatic analysis module popped up a bright red warning box.
[Warning: Unknown energy devices ×3 detected around the Brooklyn Ruins. Energy signature compared to accelerator signals inside the 'Abyss Congress'.] The progress bar flashed.
[Similarity: 92%]