The island of Melas was a jagged black fang jutting from a sea of perpetual storms. The Nautilus surfaced in a hidden cove, its advanced stealth systems making it a ghost in the raging tempest. On the main viewscreen, Anya's sensors painted a detailed picture of the Pagoda facility—a sterile white scar on the island's central plateau.
"The intelligence from your archive was perfect," Anya confirmed, her voice a low, intense murmur. "The entire facility is built around the Abyssal Locus. I'm detecting dozens of signatures inside—Apprentices for labor, a handful of Disciples for security." She isolated a single, pulsing crimson light at the facility's core. "And there's the warden. An Aether Master, Rank 36. He hasn't moved from the main laboratory. He's guarding the heart of the project."
"His name is Archon Fen," Ren said, his voice quiet. The Soul-Forge Gauntlet on his hand glowed softly as he interfaced with the Raijin data. "The archive identifies him as the Pagoda's leading mind in bio-Aetheric corruption. He is not just a warrior; he is a scientist of profound genius and depraved morality."
"A twisted mind," Zephyrion growled. "These are the most dangerous foes. He will be arrogant, but not foolish. A direct assault is suicide."
"We agree," Ren said aloud. "We don't fight him. We erase his life's work from existence and vanish before he even knows who attacked him."
The plan was a surgical strike, a ghost's gambit. Anya would be his eyes and ears, orchestrating from the Nautilus, while Ren would be the blade in the dark.
That night, Ren slipped into the storm. He used Integrity Sundering to turn a reinforced storm drain grate to dust and infiltrated the facility's maintenance underbelly. The tunnels were a maze of humming power conduits and dripping pipes. Through his encrypted comm-bead, Anya's voice was a calm, precise guide.
"Two-man patrol approaching your position from the east corridor, seventy meters," she whispered. "Apprentice-level. Duck into the service duct on your left."
Ren moved with silent grace, melting into the shadows. He watched as the two guards passed, completely oblivious. He was a phantom, his new Disciple-level control allowing him to suppress his Aetheric signature to nothing.
His first target was not the lab, but the island's primary communications array. He found it on the facility's roof, a massive dish buffeted by the storm. He didn't destroy it. He placed his hand on its central conduit and used a subtle Thunder's Echo, injecting a feedback loop into the system. The dish would still appear functional, but it would transmit nothing but corrupted static. He had cut the island off from the outside world.
His next target was the central data archives.
"The archives are on sub-level three, two corridors from the main lab," Anya's voice guided him. "Heavy guard presence. Two Disciples at the door."
"I see them," Ren whispered, peering around a corner.
"How do you want to handle this?" Anya asked. "I can trigger a power surge in the west wing as a diversion."
"No," Ren replied. "Too loud. It will alert the Master."
He watched the two Disciple guards, their stances disciplined, their senses sharp. He couldn't sneak past them. He would have to be faster than their senses.
He took a deep breath, and used Raijin's Flash.
Fzzt.
He vanished. For a single, imperceptible moment, he appeared between the two guards, his hands striking the pressure points on their necks with perfect, Aether-infused precision.
Fzzt.
He reappeared back in the shadows of the corridor.
The two Disciple guards crumpled to the floor, unconscious, their bodies slumping silently. They never knew what hit them. The entire sequence had been completely silent and had taken less than half a second.
Inside the Nautilus, Anya stared at her sensor display, her heart pounding. His bio-sign had vanished and reappeared twice in an instant. The guards' life signs had simply… stopped. It was the most terrifyingly efficient takedown she had ever witnessed.
"Archives are clear," Ren's voice buzzed in her ear, calm and steady. "Patch me in."
He placed his Soul-Forge Gauntlet on the archive's main console. A torrent of data began to flow directly to the Nautilus.
"It's all here," Anya breathed. "Years of forbidden research, genetic sequences, Abyssal energy readings… everything."
"Wipe it," Ren commanded.
"Done."
With the data stolen and the local copy erased, there was only one target left. He moved to a ventilation shaft overlooking the main laboratory. Peering through the grate, he saw it: the grotesque "Chimera" beast in its flickering containment field, and the formidable figure of Archon Fen, who was now beginning to sense that something was deeply wrong.
Ren smiled. He had no intention of fighting the monster or the Master.
He placed his hand on the ventilation shaft's metal casing. He focused his will, not into a powerful blast, but into a single, complex, resonant command. He injected a cascading failure code—a refined version of the Thunder's Echo—into the Aetheric power grid that was feeding the Chimera's containment field.
He commanded it to do one thing: overload.
Down in the lab, Archon Fen spun around as his containment field console exploded in a shower of sparks, its lights turning from a stable green to a screaming, catastrophic red. The field around the roaring Chimera began to pulse violently, on the verge of total collapse.
The Master was now trapped in his own laboratory with his own unbound, enraged creation.
Ren didn't wait to watch the fun. He flashed back through the tunnels, out the storm drain, and into the raging night. The mission was complete. He had inflicted a catastrophic blow against the Pagoda without them ever seeing his face. He was a ghost who wielded the thunder, and his war had truly begun.