The Crimson Ward still burned faintly in the skies above Sanctuary Isle, its red veil visible even in the daylight. The purification towers thrummed in harmony, their crystal cores glowing brighter each hour as they continued to draw in the radioactive storm left behind by the nuclear strike.
For two days, the entire island remained under strict lockdown. No one went beyond the barrier. Farmers tended to crops inside the greenhouses, children were kept indoors, and soldiers rotated shifts across bunkers and turrets. The hum of the Rad-Purification Towers was the heartbeat of their world.
Kane stood in the central command hall, eyes on the projected feed of the towers' output. Streams of data scrolled in pale blue light: roentgen levels, particle absorption rates, containment stability.
Then the drones delivered their report—each tower's purified residue was crystallizing into containment objects. Circular blackened glass-like orbs, pulsing faintly with radiation. The readout displayed a staggering figure.
2000 roentgens. Per orb.
And there were many.
"Tower One complete: 100 orbs generated.""Tower Two complete: 100 orbs generated.""Tower Three complete: 100 orbs generated.""Tower Four complete: 100 orbs generated."
A total of 400 orbs floated in reinforced canisters before him, faintly humming with caged power. The energy could kill a man in moments if mishandled. Kane's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Infinite Storage," he commanded.
The orbs vanished one after another into the void of his dimensional vault. The system confirmed the tally—
[Radioactive Storage Orbs: 400]
A dangerous resource… but a resource nonetheless.
Yet as Kane monitored the feed, one of the underwater purification conduits caught his attention. The camera blinked and shifted, showing the drain that connected directly to the sea. Something moved in the darkness.
A scaled silhouette.
A lizard. No—larger than any natural lizard should be. It slithered partially into view, scarred and burnt, yet alive. A survivor of the nuclear blast.
Kane leaned closer to the feed, narrowing his eyes.
The creature sniffed the glowing canisters at the end of the conduit. Then, almost desperately, it lunged at one of the orbs, seizing it in its jaws.
The screen flickered as the lizard convulsed violently, its body writhing with pain as the radiation surged through it. Its scales cracked and glowed faintly, and with a guttural shriek, the beast turned and bolted back into the abyss, vanishing through the hole into the sea.
Alarms blared in Kane's mind. He immediately checked his Infinite Storage tally.
[Radioactive Storage Orbs: 399]
One was missing.
Kane's fist clenched. "So it didn't just survive the blast… it adapted. And it took one of my orbs."
The implications were troubling. A mutated beast feeding on radiation was not something he could ignore. If it survived once, it could return again—stronger.
But Kane pushed the thought aside. He had a more immediate enemy to deal with.
The Patron.
For the past two days, Kane had ordered long-range reconnaissance flights, deep-sea drone scans, and encrypted surveillance sweeps. Each report stacked neatly on the holotable before him, forming a layered image of the mountain fortress twenty kilometers east.
The location matched the pilot's confession: a mountain hollowed from within, reinforced with concrete, steel, and mana barriers. Multiple gun emplacements ringed the shoreline, and faint heat signatures hinted at underground hangars large enough to house aircraft and armored vehicles.
The Patron wasn't just hiding. He was preparing for war.
Kane's scouts had only managed to map the outer layers. The deeper levels remained cloaked, shielded against probes. Still, he knew enough: frontal assault would be costly. He needed precision.
He turned towards Greywatch's delegation, who had remained under "polite captivity" within Sanctuary Isle. Their leader met Kane's gaze with weary resolve.
"You asked for cooperation," Kane said coldly. "Now is the time to prove it. I want your best scouts and appraisers deployed east. Quietly. They'll map every inch of that mountain—terrain, defenses, resource veins, civilian settlements nearby, if any. I need the full picture before I decide how to bring it down."
The Greywatch leader hesitated. "And if they are caught?"
Kane leaned forward. "Then they will die. But if they succeed, Greywatch earns my trust… and my protection."
The leader nodded reluctantly. Orders were dispatched. Within hours, cloaked figures were already making their way to the eastern island, tasked with peeling back the veil of secrecy around the Patron's fortress.
Meanwhile, Kane continued building.
The Stormbreaker and Vanguard warships remained at dock, fully armed and waiting. Drone production lines worked overtime, with aerial scouts and missile carriers prepped for deployment. His Ironbound Legion drilled day and night, their skeletal ranks swelling with new additions, while the fused mutant—the abomination of ogre, serpent, and crustacean—loomed like a titan among them.
In the corner of his vision, Kane's system pinged softly, reminding him of the missing orb. A small anomaly. But his instincts whispered otherwise.
Something in the deep had tasted power.
And it would not forget.
By the dawn of the third day, the skies over Sanctuary Isle had finally begun to clear. The oppressive veil of radiation lifted, drawn completely into the humming purification towers. The last orbs of concentrated roentgens sealed themselves into canisters before being transferred into Kane's Infinite Storage. The counter stabilized at 399.
The barrier held, but for the first time in days the people dared to step outside their homes. Fresh air seeped through the purified layers, carrying the salty tang of the sea again instead of the choking metallic sting of fallout. Cheers spread cautiously through the settlement, though Kane's expression remained unreadable.
His eyes were fixed not on the clear skies, but on the ocean feed.
The lizard was still there.
Dormant now, half-buried within the ruins of a collapsed underwater cavern, its form pulsed faintly with crimson veins as if molten energy ran through its blood. It hadn't surfaced, hadn't fed again—but Kane could feel the truth in his bones.
The beast was changing.
His system's overlay painted faint readings across the feed: unstable mana surges, cellular reformation, spikes of vitality that bordered on the unnatural. And every time the pulse rose, the stolen orb embedded in its gut glowed brighter.
Kane exhaled slowly, muttering to himself, "You're becoming something more… and when you wake, you'll either be my doom or my weapon."
As if in answer, his system shimmered—A scroll manifested in his hand, glowing with golden edges, humming with otherworldly energy.
[Mythic Beast Contract Scroll]Rank: MythicEffect: Allows binding of one beast of sufficient intelligence and willpower into a Soul Contract.Limit: Only usable once. Beast must have awakened instinctual intelligence.Note: Bound beast will evolve with the user, growing stronger over time.
Kane's fingers tightened around the parchment. "So… fate offers me the chain before the monster even rises."
His musings were interrupted as a transmission pinged on his command table. The Greywatch scouts had returned earlier than expected.
They were good at their craft—better than Kane had given them credit for. Their reconnaissance files unfolded across the holo-map, painting the clearest picture yet of the Patron's fortress.
The island twenty kilometers east was more fortress than mountain. The outer ridges were carved into angular cliffs lined with turrets, missile silos, and mana-barrier pylons. The sea surrounding it was mined, and deep-sea drones patrolled constantly.
But it was the interior that was most troubling.
"Underground hangars detected," one of the scouts reported, voice strained from fatigue. "Large enough for multiple squadrons of aircraft. Energy readings suggest missile stores, perhaps even warhead silos. We counted at least three mana-reactor cores powering the facility."
Another scout stepped forward with additional files. "There are residential levels too. Civilians—workers, slaves, or volunteers—we couldn't be certain. But the Patron has turned them into his logistical backbone. He's not hoarding alone; he's running a war machine with thousands of hands."
The holo-map zoomed deeper, flickering red as it displayed hazy outlines beneath the mountain's heart.
"And this…" the scout swallowed, "…this is where we couldn't go further. Our appraisers said the wards were too strong. But they sensed something… alive. Something restrained in the deepest vault. The Patron is hiding more than weapons. He's hiding something monstrous."
The command hall fell silent at the report.
Kane studied the projection without speaking, only the faintest narrowing of his eyes betraying his thoughts. The Patron wasn't just a wealthy man playing warlord. He was preparing for something cataclysmic.
His gaze drifted back toward the dormant lizard on his feed, glowing faintly beneath the ocean floor. Two monsters stirred now—one hidden within the mountain, one gestating in the deep.
And between them stood Kane.
He brushed his thumb across the Mythic Beast Contract Scroll. The parchment pulsed warmly, as if it too was waiting, urging him toward a decision.
"Soon," he murmured, voice low but resolute. "I'll tame you. Or end you. And then I'll deal with him."