Chapter 17: The Calm Before the Storm
The twilight of Day 5 bled into Day 6 without Klaus closing his eyes once. What had begun as forced vigilance born of paranoia had evolved into operational hyper-awareness. The Shadow monitored his vital signs, suggesting micro-rests that he ignored. The Canyon was quiet — a silence that wasn't peace, but the held breath of predators lurking before the final strike. The Exclusion Zone, now a tightened circle around the heart of the ruined city, was a steel vice slowly closing.
His new tool, the Ocular Interface: 'Predatory Search', rested in his inventory, its cooldown ticking down on his HUD: 14:32:17. He wouldn't use it impulsively. It was his trump card for decisive moments.
The plan for Day 6 was mobility and final collection. The Shadow mapped a crescent-shaped route skirting the edge of the safe zone, avoiding the center, where the concentration of players would be highest—and deadliest.
>> Priority Target: Remaining Cryptoliths. Spawn pattern analysis suggests the last 4 are located in central high-value structures. Acquisition risk: High. <<
>> Secondary Target: Resource Consolidation. Common chests remain valuable for post-match trade and resale. <<
His first move that morning was a perimeter check. From the hotel rooftop, M24 in hand, he scanned the streets below. The city looked like a graveyard. No movement. No gunfire. The most terrifying silence he had ever encountered.
>> Heat signature detected. Single source. 400 meters southeast. Slow, erratic movement. Inside structure marked 'City Museum'. <<
A lone recruit. Possibly wounded, lost, or… bait. Cold logic dictated avoiding it. But The Shadow made a crucial observation:
>> The City Museum is a central landmark. Probability of containing a Cryptolith or High-Value Chest: 82%. Hostile unit may be there for the same reason. <<
It was a calculated risk. Klaus decided to investigate—but not engage. He would be a shadow, an observer. If the recruit found something, he would assess the situation. If not, he'd move on.
Approaching the museum was an exercise in absolute patience. He used utility tunnels, moving beneath the streets, emerging in an alley behind the neoclassical building, its façade cratered by artillery fire. The service entrance—a steel door—was slightly ajar.
Inside, the air smelled of ancient dust, shattered marble, and the faint metallic tang of blood. The Shadow amplified his hearing. He caught the sound—shuffling steps, followed by a muffled groan of pain. The recruit was definitely wounded.
Klaus crept through the dark galleries, passing destroyed modern art exhibits and natural history dioramas reduced to rubble. The heat signature on The Shadow's vision was a trembling orange dot, now stationary in a large chamber ahead—the Main Hall.
He took position behind a thick column at the hall's entrance. The recruit sat slumped on the floor, leaning against a decapitated statue. A woman—her corporate uniform torn and soaked with blood along her left side. A sawed-off shotgun lay on the ground beside her, just out of reach. Her hands pressed against the wound, her face pale and twisted in agony.
Then Klaus saw it. Hanging from the statue's neck, glowing with a soft blue light, was a Cryptolith. 7/10.
She had found it—but couldn't take it. The situation was clear. He could simply wait for her to die. Or he could… intervene.
>> Tactical Analysis: Hostile unit incapacitated. Threat level: Near zero. Resources required for stabilization: One medkit. Cost/Benefit: Negative. Most efficient approach: silent neutralization or waiting for disintegration. <<
The Shadow was right. It was a waste of resources. But Klaus looked at the woman. She wasn't a Bot. She was a person—with a face, with pain. The coldness he had cultivated cracked for an instant. The memory of his own wound, the searing pain, resurfaced.
He didn't think in terms of morality. He thought in terms of… debt. The System had once given him healing. He had surplus. A standard medkit, one of many—cheap, replaceable.
Before logic could override impulse, he acted. He stepped out of the darkness, M16 lowered but ready.
The woman gasped, her eyes wide with panic. She struggled to reach the shotgun.
"Stop," Klaus's voice echoed low across the vast hall. "I'm not here to hurt you."
He stopped a few meters away, keeping distance. He could see the wound now—a deep gash, likely from shrapnel, not a bullet. She was bleeding out fast.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice weak and wary.
Klaus didn't answer. He slung the M16 over his shoulder and, with a thought, materialized a [COMMON] First Aid Kit in his hands. He tossed it to her, the box sliding to a stop just inches from her.
"Use it. Then get out. The zone's closing."
He turned, ignoring the shock on her face, and walked up to the statue. He tore the Cryptolith from its neck and stored it in his ring. 8/10.
When he turned back, she was staring at him, trembling hands clutching the kit, disbelief and fear mingling in her eyes.
"You're… different," she said, voice a bit stronger now.
Klaus didn't answer. He just nodded once and melted back into the shadows of the gallery, leaving her behind. It had been an unnecessary risk. A foolish expense of resources. Yet, some small, long-dormant part of him felt… less hollow.
>> Action recorded. Logistical inefficiency noted. However, insufficient data to calculate impact on future behavioral variables. << The Shadow's voice was flat.
Klaus ignored it. He had a goal.
The rest of the day was a marathon of scavenging. The Shadow guided him to two more common chests—one with .308 rounds for the M24, another with high-quality rations. He looted them without incident; his threat radar remained eerily quiet. The other recruits were hiding, preparing—or already dead.
By late afternoon, he had circled most of the safe zone. His inventory was solid, his arsenal lethal. But two Cryptoliths still remained.
Then, as he was preparing to find a hideout for the night, The Shadow emitted a sharp alert—unlike any before.
>> MAXIMUM ALERT. MASSIVE ENERGY EMISSION DETECTED. <<
>> LOCATION: CIVIC CENTER. DOES NOT MATCH CRYPTOLITH OR SYSTEM CHEST SIGNATURES. <<
>> SIGNATURE: ... [ANALYZING...] ... MATCH FOUND: HIGH-RISK/HIGH-REWARD FIELD EVENT. <<
A Field Event. Like the "Spectral Hunt" in Necropolis-7, but different. The System was introducing a new variable—an opportunity.
>> Event activated. System broadcast incoming. <<
A robotic voice—the same as the initial host—echoed not only in his HUD, but through the very air.
>> SYSTEM: FIELD EVENT 'CONVOY ASSAULT' ACTIVATED. <<
>> DETAILS: A SYSTEM ARMORED CONVOY CARRYING HIGH-VALUE CARGO WILL ENTER THE SAFE ZONE. <<
>> DURATION: UNTIL CONVOY IS DESTROYED OR EXTRACTED. <<
>> OBJECTIVE: RAID THE CONVOY AND RETRIEVE THE 'SYSTEM STRONGBOX'. <<
>> REWARD: CONTENTS OF STRONGBOX (GUARANTEED [LEGENDARY] ITEMS) + 5,000 CREDITS. <<
>> WARNING: CONVOY HEAVILY GUARDED BY HIGH-LEVEL AUTONOMOUS COMBAT UNITS. <<
On the map, a new icon appeared—a symbol of an armored truck—moving slowly along the main road toward the city center.
The calm was over. The final storm had arrived. And at its core would not just be the slaughter between recruits, but a greater prey—defended by mechanical guardians.
Klaus stared at the moving icon. Fear and ambition wrestled in his chest for a moment. Ambition won.
He wouldn't use the Predatory Search to find the last Cryptoliths. He would use it for this.
>> Shadow. Plot most efficient interception route. Maximum stealth. <<
>> Then activate Raider Vision. <<
The cooldown had ended twelve minutes ago. It was time.
>> Confirmed. Plotting route. <<
>> Activating [Raider Vision]. <<
Klaus blinked—and the world changed. A new layer unfolded before his eyes. The golden, shimmering trail didn't snake toward a chest or Cryptolith. It stretched forward, a radiant arrow slicing through air and concrete alike, pointing straight at the moving convoy icon.
The highest-value target wasn't a hidden treasure. It was a mobile fortress—armored, lethal, and ripe for the taking.
A cold, predatory smile crossed Klaus's face. The Collector had found his final hunt. The Raider was ready for the assault.
Day 6 would end not with a whisper, but with the distant roar of engines and the golden glow of a trail leading toward fortune—or death.
The match in the Canyon of Perdition was about to reach its bloody climax.