Chương 141: Chapter : 141

He didn't care that his head hurt. He had successfully stopped Naomi from sinking into a dark, depressing memory, and he had done it without breaking his cover or using a single drop of magic. It was the perfect, low-effort solution. As the mixed squad crept deeper into the heavily fortified, terrifying concrete bunker, the mood was no longer heavy with past regrets. They were focused, slightly annoyed with each other, and totally ready to face whatever twisted monsters Augusto had waiting for them in the dark.

The heavy metal security door slid completely shut behind them with a quiet hiss. The mixed infiltration squad was now officially deep inside the highly classified, incredibly dangerous underground laboratory. The air in this part of the bunker felt completely different from the entrance. It was hot, it felt heavy in their lungs, and it smelled like strong cleaning chemicals mixed with rusted iron.

Ken Eliot was walking at the absolute back of the group, and he was currently doing everything in his power to ruin the serious, stealthy mood.

"Okay, this is officially a tragedy," Ken complained out loud, holding up the sleeve of his brand-new, expensive navy blue suit jacket. He squinted at the fabric in the dim, flickering light of the corridor.

"Naomi, look at this. There is an actual oil stain on my lapel. Do you know how hard it is to get oil out of nice clothes? I literally just bought this yesterday. I look like a mechanic who tried to dress up for a wedding." Naomi, who was walking just a few steps ahead of him, did not turn around to yell. She just shook her head and let out a soft, highly amused sigh. Ever since the incident in the dungeon, she didn't view Ken as a piece of garbage anymore.

She just viewed him as an incredibly annoying, highly chaotic friend who needed constant babysitting.

"Keep your voice down, Ken," Naomi scolded him, though her tone was gentle. She reached back without looking and lightly smacked his shoulder.

"And stop complaining about your suit. You can take it to the dry cleaners after we save the city. Just focus on where you are stepping. We do not want to trigger any hidden alarms." Elma, the fiercely arrogant blonde servant from the 16th Unit, shot a furious glare over her shoulder. She was holding her twin silver short-swords tightly, her spotless white and gold uniform practically glowing in the dark hallway.

"How can you two possibly be joking around right now?" Elma hissed angrily.

"We are in the middle of a highly toxic, totally hostile enemy bunker. There could be mutated guards waiting behind every single corner, and you are worried about a laundry bill? You are an absolute idiot, Ken." Ken didn't even blink. He just gave her a goofy, completely relaxed smile and popped his collar.

"Hey, looking good is a full-time job. You should understand that, Elma. You are wearing an entirely white outfit in a dirty underground basement. That is a massive fashion risk. If you lean against the wrong wall, your whole aesthetic is ruined." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Elma's face turned bright pink with frustration. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but Raja, the quiet, nervous engineer from the 9th Unit, suddenly held up his hand.

"Please, both of you, stop talking," Raja whispered urgently. He was staring down at the small, glowing scanner device he held in his hands. He tapped a few buttons on his heavy leather toolbelt.

"I am picking up a massive spike in magical radiation just ahead. The shielding in these walls is incredibly thick, but the energy is still leaking through. We are getting very close to the central core room." Ken leaned over Raja's shoulder, looking at the blinking lights on the scanner device with zero actual interest.

"Hey, Raja," Ken asked lazily, completely ignoring the warning about deadly radiation.

"Since you are carrying that giant, heavy toolbelt around, do you happen to have a spare sandwich in there? Or maybe a bag of peanuts? Because my stomach is currently doing backflips. We have been walking for hours, and I am running on empty." Raja looked up at Ken, blinking his tired eyes in pure confusion.

"Uh... no? I have wire cutters, a laser torch, and a few thermal detonators. I don't carry snacks into a combat zone." Ken slumped his shoulders forward, letting out a loud, dramatic groan.

"A detonator? You can't eat a detonator. This alliance is a complete failure. I am going to write a very strongly worded letter to Prince Hephaestus about his lack of catering services." Naomi finally reached back, grabbed Ken by the back of his jacket, and physically pulled him forward so he was walking right next to her.

"Zip it, Ken. Stay close to me and keep your eyes open."

"My lips are officially zipped," Ken promised, doing a fake locking motion over his mouth and throwing the invisible key over his shoulder. He immediately started doing an exaggerated, highly ridiculous tip-toe walk, picking his knees up way too high and sneaking forward like a cartoon burglar. Naomi had to bite the inside of her cheek very hard to stop herself from laughing at him, while Elma just rubbed her temples, feeling a massive headache coming on.

While the infiltration squad was slowly creeping their way down the metallic corridors, a completely different scene was playing out at the very bottom of the facility. Deep inside the heavily fortified core of the research bunker, the atmosphere was dark, frantic, and dripping with tragic irony. This room did not look like a normal science laboratory. It was a massive, cavernous chamber filled with thick, hissing pipes and blinking control panels.

In the very center of the room sat a large, empty glass containment unit resting on top of a steel pedestal. The air inside the room was terribly hot, and the hum of massive, unstable generators shook the floorboards. Standing proudly right next to the empty glass case was Augusto. He did not look like a neat, professional government official anymore. He was an older man, but his white hair was wild and thinning, sticking out in crazy directions. His lab coat was stained and wrinkled.

He had dark, heavy bags under his eyes, and a manic, totally desperate glint shined in his gaze. He paced back and forth in front of the pedestal, muttering quietly to himself, his hands shaking with anticipation. Standing right beside him was his chief assistant, a younger man named O'Brian. O'Brian wore a clean, dark suit, but he looked incredibly stressed. He kept checking his digital watch, wiping sweat from his forehead.

O'Brian had not been part of the Black Viper mercenary team that stole the artifact from the dungeon. His job was strictly inside the lab, managing the day-to-day operations of the dying facility. But O'Brian and Augusto were not the only people in the massive core room. Gathered around the edges of the chamber, sitting on metal benches or leaning heavily against the walls, were several dozen of Augusto's loyal, low-level researchers.