Chapter 446: Chapter-446
The System’s screen flashed a soft, humbled green. ’[...Damn, Host. When you put it that way, it actually makes perfect sense. I guess my logic modules need an upgrade.]’
"You think?" Heena muttered, finally standing up from the bench. Thanks to the high-grade pain relief patches, a pleasant, icy numbness had taken over her lower back and waist, allowing her to move without looking like a crumbling ancient ruin.
Before she could strategize her next move, the heavy iron door creaked open again. The battalion commander walked back into the hall, his dark armor clanking softly against the stone floor. His face was grim, a tight, cold fury pulling at the corners of his mouth. Behind him, two hulking soldiers dragged a man by his arms.
The man was dressed in the standard whites of the outpost’s kitchen staff, but his face was entirely drained of blood, raw panic blown wide in his eyes.
"My Lady," the commander spoke, dropping to one knee before Heena. "Your deduction was flawless. We placed an immediate lockdown on the commissary and checked the logs. This man is a temporary kitchen hand hired three weeks ago to help wash the heavy iron cauldrons. We found this concealed in the lining of his boot."
The commander raised his gloved hand, holding a small, sealed vial made of dark, opaque glass.
Heena stepped forward, her boots clicking sharply on the stone. She leaned down, squinting at the vial, and then gestured for the System to scan it in her mind.
’[Ding! Analysing substance...]’ the System chimed instantly. ’[Host, it’s Viper’s Sigh. A highly concentrated, tasteless, odorless paralytic toxin derived from the shadow snakes of the southern marshes. Once ingested, it takes exactly one hour to circulate. Then, it causes instantaneous respiratory failure. For 300 grown men, this single vial in the evening stew would have turned this entire fortress into a silent graveyard within ninety minutes.]’
A cold shiver ran down Heena’s spine. The novel hadn’t exaggerated; the Regressor truly was an efficient, ruthless monster. He didn’t want a glorious battle; he wanted a clean, uncontested slaughter.
She turned her sharp, piercing gaze down toward the trembling kitchen hand. The man was shaking so violently his teeth were clicking together.
"Who gave you the vial?" Heena asked, her voice dangerously calm, devoid of any warmth.
"I-I don’t know!" the man shrieked, tears instantly streaming down his face. "A masked man met me at the tavern in the lower village! He gave me fifty gold coins! He said it was just a powerful laxative—a prank to embarrass the battalion so a rival mercenary group could secure a contract! He swore no one would die! Please, My Lady, I have a mother and—"
"Shut up," Heena cut him off smoothly. She didn’t have time for the classic sob stories of desperate extras. She looked up at the commander. "He’s telling the truth about not knowing the identity. The Enemy wouldn’t show his face to a disposable pawn. Take the vial, and take him away. Keep him locked in the dungeons for now."
"Understood," the commander growled, gesturing to his men. The soldiers brutally dragged the screaming kitchen hand out of the hall.
Once the doors slammed shut again, the commander faced Heena, his fist resting over his heart. "My Lady, the poison has been intercepted. The men are fully armed, fed from the emergency dried rations, and standing by. We have exactly one hour and twenty minutes before the enemy arrives. What are your orders?"
Heena walked over to the grand tactical map pinned to the central stone pillar. Her eyes traced the winding subterranean tunnels, the choke points, and the massive gates leading out to the surface where the Iron Convoy was currently moving.
A slow, wicked smile stretched across her face. The Regressor was arriving in a little over an hour, fully expecting to walk into a fortress of 300 paralyzed, dying corpses. He thought he was the one writing the script because he had lived it before.
"Commander," Heena said, her fingers tracing a specific narrow corridor on the map—the exact entry point from the capital’s hidden tunnel. "We are going to give our guest exactly what he expects to see. I want 250 of your men to scatter across the main hall. Lie down. Drop your weapons. Act like you are convulsing and choking to death on your own spit."
The commander blinked, entirely caught off guard. "A feigned defeat, My Lady?"
"An ambush," Heena corrected, her eyes gleaming with absolute malice. "The remaining 50 men will hide in the upper rafters with heavy crossbows, fully coated in whatever non-lethal, heavy-duty tracking poison we have in our own armory. When that monster steps through that door, expecting to gloat over your corpses... we are going to turn this fortress into his personal hell."
She turned back to the System in her mind, her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and anticipation. ’’System, open the Shop. Let’s see what kind of nasty traps we can buy with my remaining points to welcome our dear Regressor.’’
The System’s interface flickered to life, a glowing digital catalog expanding before Heena’s eyes.
’[Ding! Opening the System Shop. Current Available Points: 2,450. Displaying tactical traps, debuff fields, and anti-Regressor specialized gear...]’
Heena scrolled through the translucent blue screens with a practiced flick of her fingers, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the descriptions. The Regressor was a monstrously powerful combatant who possessed decades of refined battle experience from his previous loops. Regular steel or simple traps wouldn’t even graze his skin. She needed things that defied the natural laws of this world—things he couldn’t possibly predict with his "future knowledge."
"System, filter for high-density containment and sensory disruption," Heena ordered internally.
’[Filtering... Items found:]’
1. ’’[Gravity Anchor Mine]’’ – ’Cost: 800 Points.’ Creates a localized 10x gravity field upon detonation. Lasts for 30 seconds. Perfect for pinning high-speed targets.
2. ’’[Mana-Bleed Smoke Screen]’’ – ’Cost: 600 Points.’ Releases a dense, iridescent fog that aggressively destabilizes and drains the mana/aura of anyone within its radius.
3. ’’[Chrono-Stutter Flashbang]’’ – ’Cost: 500 Points.’ A one-time use explosive that disrupts the target’s perception of time, causing a 2-second delay between their brain’s command and their body’s physical reaction.
"Turn it off," Heena snapped internally, cutting the digital voice right down the middle. "What the hell is this junk? Fifty gold coins for a ’Gravity Anchor Mine’? A ’Chrono-Stutter Flashbang’? Are you actually serious right now?"
The System’s lights blinked a stunned, defensive yellow. [But Host! These are high-tier, reality-bending items specifically designed to counter a Regressor’s future knowledge! They have a 98% success rate in—]
"They are overpriced garbage that rely entirely on the enemy being a brainless idiot," Heena sneered, rubbing her temples as her irritation spiked. "A Regressor is someone who has lived through decades of combat. The second a magical, glowing, logic-defying gravity field pops out of thin air, his instinct isn’t going to be to stand there and get pinned—he’s going to use whatever overpowered aura or spatial movement skill he has to blink out of the zone. Then I’m out 800 points, out of options, and looking like a clown."
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