No shouting. No battle cries. Just a synchronized thud as the stone door was blown inward by a shaped alchemical charge.
Smoke billowed. Four figures moved through the haze, shields raised, wands glowing with detection magic.
From the safety of the Core Room, Victor watched the projection screen.
[ARMI - INTRUSION ALERT]
Hostiles Detected: 40
Zone: Floor 1, Sector A (Entrance Hall)
Traps Status: ACTIVE (Stealth Mode)
"They're professional," Kael noted, standing beside Victor. The warrior was fully armored, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. But he wasn't looking at the screen with fear—he was looking at it with the focus of a field commander. "Lead group checks for tripwires. Second group covers the ceiling. Rear guard watches the exit."
"Standard dungeon delving protocols," Victor said. "They expect pressure plates and arrow slits."
He turned to Sniv, who was practically vibrating with nervous energy. The goblin held a crude lever made of bone and iron.
"Sniv," Victor said calmly. "Introduce them to our new overhead ventilation policy."
Sniv yanked the lever. "Acid Rain Protocol! Approved!"
In the entrance corridor, the Black Talon Captain—a scarred veteran named Voros—halted his team.
"Hold," Voros signaled. "Too quiet."
His mage scanned the floor. "No magical signatures on the stones, Captain. It's clean."
"It's never clean," Voros growled. "This is Groll's target. The 'Manager' doesn't leave doors open."
He looked up at the ceiling. Dark stone. Rough hewn.
From the shadows of the ventilation shafts positioned twenty feet above, something dripped.
It wasn't water.
A single drop hit the pauldron of the vanguard soldier. It hissed. Smoke curled up.
"Acid!" the soldier shouted, dropping his shield as the metal began to dissolve into grey sludge.
"Shields up!" Voros roared. "Overhead!"
But shields were designed to block arrows and swords, not liquid. The "Acid Slimes"—force-fed alchemical waste for twelve hours—were not attacking; they were simply existing in the vents, oozing their corrosive biomass through the grates.
It was a downpour of chemical fire.
Men screamed as the sludge ate through leather joint-straps and helmet visors. The impeccable formation broke instantly.
"Forward!" Voros commanded. "Get out of the tunnel! Push to the chamber!"
They ran. They burned precious protective scrolls—barriers of golden light flared and shattered under the acidic onslaught.
Victor watched the carnage on the screen.
"Estimate damage," he asked.
"Armor degradation 40%," Asterion rumbled from the corner. "Morale degradation 60%. They are burning resources just to commute to work."
"Good," Victor said. "Phase Two. Kael, you are up."
Kael grinned. He grabbed his helmet. "Time to show them the new org chart."
The survivors of the Black Talons—about thirty men, smoking and cursing—burst into the first major chamber.
It was a wide, cavernous room usually reserved for "swarm encounters."
Voros wiped slime from his visor. "Form up! Defensive circle! Watch the shadows!"
"No shadows," a voice echoed.
Kael stepped out from behind a stalagmite. He looked like the hero he used to be—shining armor, defiant stance—but behind him stood something that defied all adventurer logic.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Rows of goblins.
But they weren't swarming. They weren't screeching.
They were standing in a shield wall.
Three rows deep. Tower shields (looted from previous failed parties) locked together. Spears projecting from the gaps.
"What in the hells?" Voros muttered. "Goblins don't... they don't form ranks."
"They do when they have a pension plan," Kael shouted. "Company! BRACE!"
The goblins slammed their shields into the ground in unison. THOOM.
"Charge!" Voros ordered. "Break them! They're just fodder!"
The mercenaries charged. They were higher level. They were stronger. They expected the goblins to break on impact.
They didn't expect the floor.
"Release!" Kael signaled.
Zip, hiding in the rafters, cut a rope.
Clay pots shattered on the floor in front of the goblin line. Oil—slippery, viscous, and flammable—coated the stone.
The charging mercenaries hit the slick surface. Momentum turned into comedy. Feet went out from under them. Heavy armor slammed into stone. The charge disintegrated into a pile of sliding, flailing bodies.
The goblin line held. It wasn't just a wall; it was a grinder. Spears darted out from the gaps between the tower shields—jab, retract, jab, retract. Ruthless efficiency drilled into them by Kael.
There was no bloodlust in their eyes, only the terrifying focus of employees fearing a bad performance review.
[ARMI - COMBAT METRICS]
Enemy Casualty Rate: 15% (Incapacitated)
Goblin Casualty Rate: 0%
Formation Integrity: 95%
"Hold the line!" Kael bellowed, catching a mercenary's sword on his shield. The impact rang like a bell, but he didn't budge. He riposted with a clean thrust to the shoulder, disabling the attacker's sword arm. "They are billing by the hour! We are fighting for equity! Do not yield a single inch of corporate property!"
Voros scrambled to his feet, enraged. He kicked a goblin shield, shattering the wood, and backhanded the creature aside.
"Enough games!" Voros roared. He flared his mana. Level 18 Aura. The pressure in the room spiked. "To me! Ignore the fodder! Target the Commander!"
He locked eyes with Kael.
But before they could clash, a shadow fell over Voros.
Huge. Heavy.
Asterion stepped into the light.
He didn't roar. He didn't stomp. He wore a custom-forged breastplate and carried a greataxe that looked like a guillotine blade welded to an iron pillar.
"You are trespassing," Asterion said, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. "On private property."
Voros hesitated. A Minotaur Lord. That was a Dungeon Boss.
"Target the beast!" Voros screamed. "Focus fire!"
Three mages unleashed fireballs.
Asterion didn't dodge. He raised a hand.
Flash.
A barrier of pure, geometric light appeared in front of him. Not magic. Skill.
[SKILL: CORPORATE SHIELD]
Type: Defensive Asset
Effect: Absorbs damage equivalent to Gold Reserves.
Cost: 10 GP per hit.
The fireballs splashed harmlessly against the golden hexagon.
"That's all?" Asterion rumbled.
He charged.
It wasn't a fight. It was an eviction.
Asterion hit the mercenary line like a wrecking ball. Voros tried to parry; his sword shattered. The Captain was thrown across the room, slamming into the cavern wall with enough force to crack the stone.
The remaining mercenaries looked at their leader. Looked at the minotaur. Looked at the disciplined goblin wall.
They broke.
"Retreat!" someone screamed. "Fall back to the tunnel!"
"Let them go," Victor's voice amplified through the room's acoustics. "Let them tell Groll what happens when he attempts a hostile takeover without due diligence."
Kael lowered his sword, breathing hard. The goblins cheered—a high-pitched, victorious shriek.
But Voros wasn't dead.
Slumped against the wall, blood leaking from his armor, the Captain laughed.
It was a wet, gurgling sound.
"You think... you think we came to win?" Voros wheezed.
Victor appeared at the entrance to the Core Room corridor, Mira beside him.
"You came to die," Victor said. "And you succeeded close enough."
"Diversion," Voros spat. He reached into his shattered breastplate and pulled out a crystal. It pulsed with a chaotic, violent purple light. "We just needed... to get close enough."
He crushed the crystal.
HUM.
A shockwave of sound—not physical, but magical—ripped through the dungeon.
In the Core Room, Nova screamed.
It was a sound of pure digital agony. The blue lights of the dungeon walls turned a sickly, strobing violet.
[ARMI - CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE]
External Signal Detected.
Source: Mana Spikes (Planted at Entrance)
Effect: Frequency Jamming / Remote Override Attempt
Core Integrity: 85%... 80%...
"He's hacking us," Victor realized. His face went pale.
"Groll didn't want the dungeon," Voros laughed, coughing blood. "He just wanted the frequency. Protocol... Override..."
The Captain's eyes rolled back. He went limp.
But the hum grew louder. The dungeon walls began to vibrate.
"Boss!" Sniv shrieked, clutching his head. "The voices! The bad voices!"
Asterion dropped his axe, knees buckling as the vibration hit him. "The Core... it's being... rewritten."
Victor looked at the ARMI readout.
[OVERRIDE IN PROGRESS]
Admin Access: COMPROMISED
New User Detected: [ALCHEMIST_GUILD_MAIN]
Time to Total Lockout: 10 Minutes
Victor grabbed Mira.
"Can you block it?"
"It's a carrier wave," Mira shouted over the hum. "I can't block it! It's coming from outside! The spikes!"
"We can't go outside," Kael said, helping a goblin up. "There could be reinforcements."
"We don't need to go outside," Victor said. His eyes narrowed. The panic vanished, replaced by the cold calculation of the boardroom.
"He's trying to override my admin privileges remotely."
Victor walked to the vibrating wall. He placed his hand on the stone.
"He thinks this is a siege," Victor whispered.
"It's not. It's electronic warfare."
He looked at Nova, pulsing with the violet infection.
"If he wants a connection," Victor said, baring his teeth, "let's give him one."
"Open the port, Nova. Wide open."
"Victor?" Mira asked. "What are you doing?"
"He's uploading a virus," Victor said. "I'm going to upload a counter-offer."
He tapped his ARMI interface.
[SKILL: HOSTILE TAKEOVER]
[TARGET: INCOMING SIGNAL]
"Let's see whose operating system is more stable."
END OF CHAPTER 44