In the past few hours, I’ve made a few insignificant ‘adjustments’ to the main coolant loop of the power reactor.
At the base of the main pressure relief valve spring, I had used a tipped scribe to carve several deep, yet nearly invisible, scratches.
Under normal operational loads, these flaws were undetectable, easily passing standard magical resonance scans. But when the festival commenced tomorrow—when that viscous, high-density "Life Stream" surged into the system at full power—the internal pressure would spike instantaneously. The valve, designed to pop open and vent excess heat, would suffer a catastrophic spring failure at the stress point, permanently seizing in the closed position.
Unable to vent, the superheated fluid would backwash. The entire reactor would transform into a high-pressure cooker with no outlet.
Thump-thump.
A heavy knock resonated from the reinforced door.
“Who is it? I said no food! Don't interrupt my calculations!” I roared at the steel slab.
“Oh my, Lord Alex. Such a volatile temper.”
The observation port slid open, revealing a smiling fox face. Jasta.
“The scent of machine oil is truly... pungent.” Jasta pressed a handkerchief to his nose, though his eyes crinkled into amused crescents. “Her Majesty was concerned you might be overworking yourself. She asked me to deliver some... stimulating ‘comfort goods.’”
The guard unlocked the door. Jasta stepped inside carrying an exquisite wicker picnic basket, his pristine white silk suit looking jarringly out of place in a room cluttered with blueprints and scrap metal.
“Here to mock me, fox?” I stared at him coldly, not stopping my work, pretending to still be wrestling with the cooling system.
“Perish the thought.”
Jasta placed the basket on the blueprint-covered table. With elegant motions, he produced a bottle of vintage red wine and two crystal glasses. “Miss Zayla asked me to convey a message,” he whispered rapidly while pouring the wine, his face maintaining the pleasant smile of a man discussing the weather. “The ‘payment’ on the ground has been settled. She is organizing personnel to come and ‘collect the goods.’”
My heart slammed against my ribs. She hadn't given up. She was planning a counter-offensive, even against an altitude of ten thousand meters and an absolute disparity in firepower.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“She...” I gripped the wine glass, my hand trembling slightly. “But how? The Storm Clan’s defenses... she’s walking into a net.”
“That is why she needs you to open the door from the inside.” Jasta’s gaze drifted over my shoulder to the flickering shadows in the corner. “Alone, you are insufficient. You require a sharper, more brutal blade.”
“A sharper blade?”
“Ally with the Wolf King.”
I took a sharp breath, nearly spilling the wine. “Don't joke. He’s a lunatic. He killed Zayla’s father and butchered Silvermoon City. Ally with him? The first thing he’ll do upon freedom is tear my throat out and then finish off the remaining cat-kin.”
“No, you do not understand him, Alex.” Jasta shook his head. The calculating gleam usually present in his eyes was replaced by a profound, dark intensity. Under the guise of handing me the glass, he leaned in, his voice as soft as velvet but heavy with lethal intent.
“That wolf wasn't born mad. He is a blade that has been lied to for twelve years.”
“Let me tell you the story of... Iron-Tooth King. He was born low, suffering oppression under the old Cat-kin dynasty. Twelve years ago, he breached Silvermoon City not just for a blood feud.” Jasta’s voice dropped lower, carrying a chill. “It was because of Selena. She gave him the resources to rise, promising him he would be King of the Surface.”
“And the result? His spine was broken, he was collared, and he became a watchdog.”
“For a personality like Garza—power-worshipping and infinitely arrogant—the shame of being treated as a dog far outweighs his hatred for the cat-kin.” Jasta stared into my eyes. “Wolf logic is simple: obey the strongest. But if you can unlock his collar and restore his dignity... that wolf will turn his fangs on the one holding the chain.”
I fell silent. This was a massive gamble.
“Jasta.” I looked at the old fox. “Why help me? You are Selena’s honored guest. Why risk extermination to bring me intel?”
Jasta smiled. There was no elegance in it, only the naked calculation of a merchant. “Alex, I am a businessman. A merchant fears not war, but a lack of Market.”
He pointed out the window at the glowing beams of Life Stream siphoned from the earth. “The Storm Clan’s ‘Predator Algorithm’ drains not just the land’s blood, but the market’s blood. If the terrestrial races die out, who buys my goods? Who consumes? If the world is left only with high-flying Eagles, there is no need for merchants, only masters and slaves.”
“For profit, I can sell my soul, but if the buyers are gone, I must change my employer.”
Jasta raised his glass, clinking it lightly against mine. “The Foxes have placed their bet. The chip is you. Don't make me lose money, Builder.”
I took a deep breath and drained the wine. “Done.”
I looked to the corner. “Mykra, come out.”
My shadow writhed, and Mykra leaned half his body out of the darkness, startling Jasta. “The vulnerability in the collar... I found it.”
I looked at Mykra. “The power core and logic core are separate. When it overloads from emotional stress and reboots, there is a 2-second Logic Vacuum. For those two seconds, it is inert. Mykra, can you inject your ‘Shadow Virus’ in that window?”
Mykra’s dead-fish eyes lit up, and he licked his dry lips. “Ride the circuit... inside. Two seconds... enough to burn the logic lock to ash.”
“Excellent.” Jasta clapped his hands softly.
"That two-second window is not random," Jasta whispered, revealing the secret behind the anomaly. "It coincides perfectly with the Sky-Isle's routine Grid Calibration."
Outside, a guard banged on the door impatiently. “Time is up! Lord Jasta!”
Jasta straightened his collar and gave me one last look. “At tomorrow’s festival, I will be standing closest to the exit. I wish you... a successful performance.”
With that, he resumed his sycophantic smile, turning to the door and announcing loudly, “Lord Builder, your efforts are appreciated. Enjoy the wine...”
As the heavy door sealed shut, only Mykra and I remained in the lab.
“Let’s get to work, Mykra.”
I looked out at the brilliantly lit floating city, my gaze hardening into absolute resolve.
Next Chapter Intro: Perspective shifts to Zayla. She hasn't been idle. Receiving Jasta’s signal, the former Cat-kin Princess leads her elite "Shadow Blade" squad in a suicidal "Ascent Operation," using cover provided by Brad's ground distraction.
Question of the Day: Does Garza’s motivation—"Power-Worshipping and Rebellious"—make his shift from villain to chaotic ally believable?
(Click to choose)
?? A) Believable.
Result: "Enemy of my enemy." He hates the collar more than he hates the cats.
?? B) Skeptical.
Result: "A wolf is a wolf." He might kill Selena, but he'll likely turn on Alex immediately after.
?? C) Wildcard.
Result: Chaos Agent. He won't ally with anyone. He just wants to watch the Sky-Isle burn.
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