Chapter 102: Invasion

Sero sat down there in a way that made it clear he had no intention of leaving.

Since Yuxing planned to act alone, Sero had to make sure he was in at least fighting condition; otherwise he would have to tell Yuxing to hold off.

Yuxing reluctantly went on: “I had a dream. In it, I woke up… woke up in a different place.”

Sero said nothing.

“But I was still exhausted and sleepy, so I lay down again and closed my eyes. When I opened them once more, I was on that other bed.” Yuxing gestured to the bedroom beside it with the half-open door.

“So I’m not sure if I’m awake, or if this place is actually the dream.”

Perhaps the real me was still in that other world, tired from playing, still lying among the toys, waiting for dinner.

Sero suddenly didn’t know how to answer. Of course he could have said Yuxing had dozed off and that this was reality, not a dream.

But this state of things—

“Could this be Grimde’s influence?”

He asked.

At first Sero had no idea what was in the satchel Yuxing carried, but when Yuxing pulled things out and tied them to himself, he could guess. It looked a lot like the outfit Yuxing had worn in Torecia.

That was the apparatus used to seal Grimde.

Yuxing nodded, then shook his head uncertainly. “Possible, but not certain.”

In short, he couldn’t tell dream and reality apart?

Sero wanted to say this was clearly reality, but if he said that, Yuxing likely wouldn’t believe him. In Yuxing’s view, he might be part of the dream himself, and Yuxing’s own words would lack force.

“Isn’t it easy to judge whether this is a dream?” Sero changed tack. “We came back from Star Harbor Tower. We left the main road, took the north-south lane, entered Brown Street, ran into a group looting in the chaos, we drove them off, and then…”

Sero methodically recounted their route, then concluded, “Dream scenes are usually discontinuous, while what we experienced here had clear transitions and a coherent chain. I don’t think this is a dream… though we should still stay alert.”

Sero seemed to have mistaken Yuxing’s meaning; he thought Yuxing meant they might have fallen into a dream prepared by the enemy.

So Yuxing had no choice but to nod. He no longer knew how else to explain his confusion.

At that moment his expression changed. The bewilderment vanished as if swept away, and he looked up. “Someone’s coming— a car, four people. One got out. He’s at the doorway.”

Sero stood. “I’ll go check.”

Yuxing slipped his weapon into his sleeve and followed. He stopped at the entryway and watched from a distance as Sero spoke with a man in military uniform.

Soon the four of them drove away.

“What happened?”

Sero handed Yuxing a white sheet. Yuxing glanced at it. It was an invitation for Sero, Baleru, and Garlum, inviting them to a banquet on the third floor of Star Harbor Tower that evening—a birthday celebration for an officer of the Armory.

“...The Feigned Banquet?”

“Hm?” Sero did not catch it.

“It’s a term,” Yuxing explained, “for a banquet that looks friendly but has hostile intent.”

“Hostile intent, is it? Indeed.” Baleru said, coming out from the inner room and taking the card from Yuxing.

“I’ll contact them.” Baleru folded the invitation and slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll tell them we just finished a battle and need rest, so we won’t attend.”

If they knew it was a feigned banquet, there was no reason to go.

Besides, this was not the best chance to break into Star Harbor Tower. Being invited meant they would be watched. What they wanted was a covert infiltration, not an open, visible assault.

A peaceful night passed with no incident, and everyone eventually got a full rest. By then it was evening of the second day.

Baleru redrafted the operation plan. Yuxing would take point and infiltrate the tower roof, clearing the way for the next stage. At the top he would deal with as much console equipment as possible—things like the building-wide access gates and surveillance cameras.

Then he would withdraw and regroup with the others.

And if Yuxing accidentally tripped the alarm, that alone would become the signal. The team would immediately begin the full invasion plan, racing against a hundred Sunderias for time.

“Usually, no,” Yuxing said, with no trace of tension in his face, as if this sort of thing were routine.

“One hour. Start the timer—I’m leaving.”

Yuxing had already chosen a route: a path from the camera directly facing the front entrance up to the roof. The people watching the cottage had kept guard there, which gave Yuxing a convenient opening.

A red rune circle bloomed behind Yuxing. Darkness surged within it, swallowing his body.

Then he reached through it and clamped a hand around the monitor operator’s throat.

“!!”

It was probably a cry, but it died in his throat before it could fully rise.

With one hand Yuxing sent him crashing to the floor, pinned him with his foot, and opened the Taiga light-key panel to switch skills. The sequence was already second nature.

After switching to Infiltration, Yuxing finally had a moment to take in the room: it was a chaotic mess, stacked with debris—snack bags, bottles of mineral water—nothing more than a junk room.

“Ugh…”

The moan came from below. Yuxing looked down and saw what lay beneath his boot: a pink cartoon rabbit head.

“……”

It was clearly a humanoid creature, wearing a pink cartoon rabbit hood. His slender body was oddly at odds with the round rabbit mask.

The creature didn’t want to give up the mask, but he couldn’t pull it free from under Yuxing’s foot. After struggling for a while, he gave up and wriggled his way, pulling his head out of the hood.

He knelt on the floor, and as he lifted his head, a metallic tube pressed hard against his forehead.

It was the barrel of a cluster gun.

A chill of goosebumps rose all over him.

“Shh.”

A voice came from above, taunting and sharp with intent. “Don’t think about calling out. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw your face.”

“You—what are you? What do you want?”

The Makendo alien lifted his mantis-like insect head, the two compound eyes anxiously scanning the doorway. At that moment he no longer cared if his identity was revealed, but there was no movement at the doorway at all—perhaps the soundproofing in that room was excellent, and the guards outside noticed nothing unusual.

Before he could finish that frantic thought, his spine was pinned under a foot.

At the same moment, something pulled at his neck from above, then jerked it forward hard. A rending pain cleaved the back of his neck.

“Ugh—”

He forced down his cry and raised a hand to the back of his neck. He felt only wetness.

He realized he had been robbed, because his hand met only the tissue fluid seeping from the wound, not the thin cord that should have been there.

The necklace hanging at his throat had been torn away.