Cassia's breath hitched. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face. The heavy tension in the room instantly shifted into a sharp, lethal excitement. She leaned into his hand for just a moment before pulling away, her arrogant confidence fully restored.
"Good," Cassia whispered. "Because I want my cut."
Arthur stood up from the sofa. He walked over to his chair and picked up his tailored suit jacket. He shrugged it on, adjusting the lapels so they sat perfectly. He strapped the heavy, pitch-black Ebonheart Sword to his back. The blade felt cold and dense against his spine.
He looked at Cassia, who was slinging her sniper rifle over her shoulder, and then at Vane, who was crushing an empty water bottle in his massive fist.
"Cassia. Vane," Arthur commanded. The CEO was back. "We're going to the top floor."
Dawn in the Deficit Zone was a miserable affair.
There was no bright, cheerful sunrise. The artificial sun simply shifted the thick, toxic smog from a bruised black to a sickly, rotting shade of yellow. The air was heavy and damp, tasting strongly of ozone and cheap machine exhaust.
Arthur Sterling, Cassia, and Vane walked through the bustling morning streets. They had taken a transit skiff out of the Margin and crossed the border into Sector 5. The transition was immediate and jarring.
Sector 5 was the beating, corrupt heart of the Iron Consortium. The rusted scrap-metal shacks of the Margin were replaced by towering, sleek skyscrapers made of polished glass and gold. Flying cars zipped overhead, leaving trails of bright neon light in the smog. The streets were immaculately clean, swept by automated drones every hour.
But it was a sterile, oppressive kind of clean. The mortals walking the streets kept their heads down and their eyes glued to the pavement. Heavily armed Consortium guards stood on every corner, their plasma rifles humming with a quiet, lethal threat.
The trio stuck out like a sore thumb.
Vane looked like a furious bouncer stuffed into a navy-blue tuxedo that was two sizes too small. He glared at every guard they passed, his hand twitching toward the spatial ring holding his broadsword. Cassia looked like a lethal, high-society assassin in her crimson backless gown, her sniper rifle hidden securely in a long, black violin case she carried over her shoulder.
And Arthur just looked like he owned the place. He walked with the slow, measured, and entirely arrogant stride of a billionaire inspecting a new property. His tailored charcoal suit was flawless. His pitch-black eyes analyzed every camera, every guard patrol, and every security checkpoint.
They turned a corner, and there it was.
The Iron Tower.
It was a brutalist, black-metal monolith that violently pierced the yellow smog. It was a massive, sprawling complex shaped like a closed lotus flower, entirely covered in obnoxious purple and gold neon lights. It dwarfed every other building in the sector. It was a monument to Silas Vance's ego and greed.
They stopped half a block away, standing in the shadow of a glowing holographic advertisement.
"There is the front door," Cassia muttered. She nodded toward the main entrance of the tower.
The entrance was a massive archway of reinforced starlight glass. And it was heavily guarded. A dozen heavily augmented mechs stood in a perfect, rigid line blocking the doors. They were not the clumsy cyber-trolls from the casino. These were military-grade security drones.
They stood eight feet tall, their bodies forged from thick, grey titanium plating. Their arms ended in heavy, rotary plasma cannons. A single, glowing red optic sensor swept back and forth across the plaza, scanning the crowd for threats.
"Twelve automated heavy mechs," Vane grunted. "They have localized energy shields and linked targeting systems. If one sees us, they all fire."
Vane looked at Arthur. "So, what is the stealth plan? Do we hit the loading docks in the back? Or do we find a maintenance shaft?"
"There is no stealth plan," Arthur stated smoothly. He adjusted his tie.
Cassia let out a soft laugh. "I told you, farm boy. The boss doesn't sneak."
"Are you insane?" Vane hissed, keeping his voice low so the passing civilians wouldn't hear. "They will vaporize us before we take five steps! You don't have your God powers right now! You are just a guy in a suit!"
"I am the CEO," Arthur corrected. "And CEOs do not use the back door. We use the main entrance."
Arthur closed his eyes. He focused on the deep, dormant spark of power resting within his core. The million-fold multiplier was locked away by the cosmic audit, but the system itself was still online. He just had to use the baseline tools available to him.
"System," Arthur commanded in his mind. "Activate passive 10x multiplier. Feed off the ambient energy of Sector 5."
[Ding!]
[Acknowledged. Linking to local environmental leylines.]
[10x Passive Multiplier Activated.]
Arthur gasped softly as the energy hit him. It wasn't the apocalyptic, universe-shattering power of the Grand Sovereign tier. It was a raw, grounded surge of physical enhancement. The ambient, chaotic energy of the bustling city rushed into his meridians, multiplied by ten, and flooded his muscles.
His bones groaned and densified. His heart rate slowed to a calm, steady rhythm. His sensory perception sharpened drastically. He could hear the hum of the mechs' plasma cannons from half a block away. He could see the individual raindrops falling through the smog.
He felt strong. He felt fast. He felt lethal.
Arthur opened his eyes. They were pitch-black and utterly devoid of mercy.
"Let's go," Arthur ordered.
He didn't sneak. He didn't hug the walls. He walked straight out into the open plaza, heading directly for the front doors of the Iron Tower. Cassia fell into step right beside him, a wild grin on her face. Vane cursed violently under his breath, but the scarred hero didn't hesitate. He marched right behind them.
The moment they crossed the perimeter of the plaza, the mechs reacted.
"BZZZT."
Twelve glowing red optic sensors snapped toward them. The heavy rotary cannons whirred to life, the barrels spinning up with a terrifying, high-pitched whine.
"Halt," a synthesized, robotic voice blared from the lead mech. "You are approaching a restricted corporate zone. Present your Consortium identification tags or lethal force will be authorized."
Arthur didn't slow down. He didn't reach into his pockets for a fake ID. He just kept walking, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the pristine pavement.
"Target acquired," the mech droned. "Lethal force authorized. Firing in three, two..."
Arthur didn't give them time to reach one.
"WHOOSH!"
Arthur blurred forward. Driven by his 10x multiplied physical stats and his flawless martial muscle memory, he crossed the fifty feet of open ground in a fraction of a second. He completely bypassed the mechs' targeting algorithms. He didn't even draw his sword.
He launched himself into the air, twisting his hips to generate maximum kinetic torque. He aimed directly for the massive, reinforced starlight glass doors behind the mechs.
"BOOM!"
Arthur delivered a devastating, two-footed dropkick directly into the center of the double doors. The impact sounded like a bomb going off. The incredibly expensive, magically reinforced glass didn't just shatter. It exploded inward.
The heavy metal hinges violently tore out of the stone walls. The massive doors flew off their frames and crashed wildly into the opulent lobby beyond.
Arthur landed perfectly on his feet amidst the showering glass. He dusted a stray shard off his shoulder. He looked into the panicked, chaotic lobby filled with screaming Consortium employees and shocked guards.
"Omniversal Holdings!" Arthur roared, his baritone voice echoing through the entire ground floor. "We're here for a hostile takeover!"
[Ding!]
[Combat engagement initiated.]
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