Chương 121: Chapter 120: A Signal From Floor Fifty — and an Unwanted Promotion

The Tartarus Station control room sat bathed in a soft blue glow, thrown off by dozens of Evelyn's magitech circuit boards. KRZZT... KRZZT... KRZZT... The micro-compressed mana-wave receiver on the table burst into a rapid string of mechanical static. Every fluorescent light bolted along the stone walls flickered in the same precise, encoded rhythm.

From the metal speaker mounted on the wall, a mechanical voice cut through the room — flat, crisp, New York-accented English, like an automated switchboard: Emergency Broadcast... High-Altitude Maintenance Station 50 is responding. Legacy credential detected. Welcome, Provisional Administrator Vance. Lucian planted both hands on his hips and glared at the glowing speaker.

"Administrator my ass! I'm a retired finance guy who used to punch a clock for a paycheck. Stop shoving me into these exhausting cosmic-maintenance job titles!" Beside him, Evelyn doubled over laughing, wrench in hand, slapping her thigh.

"Congrats, boss Vance! The world server just promoted you straight from 'Cultural Disaster' to 'Space Station Administrator'! No arguing your way out of this one!" Lucian scowled at the words Administrator Vance blinking on the crystal display. The Vance name... The surname his father, Sword Emperor Regulus, had built his career under had not been random. It was one legacy maintenance credential among several, tied to a founding-engineer line involved in the World Tower's old network. A hand closed over his.

A slender hand in a white silk glove — Eleanor, standing close beside him, gold hair loose over her shoulder, blue eyes fixed on the glowing diagram. She tightened her grip and spoke, steady: The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Wherever that gate on Floor Fifty leads... I'm going with you to the end of the world." Lucian turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a helpless smile.

"You can come. Space elevator ticket's ten gold a head, though — we split it evenly, Princess." Eleanor laughed and tipped her head to rest lightly against his shoulder.

"Put it on your tab." Ting! Ting! Ting!

A triumphant chime rang through Lucian's mind, gold text flooding his vision: [CURRENT MILESTONE SUMMARY — DEMON REALM OPERATIONS:] [Verified outcomes:] Restructured Tartarus's legacy debt and stabilized the pilot trade corridors Opened the Cross-Realm Railway and the Tartarus Free Trade Zone Reached LEVEL 50 through the one-time Rank SS progression credit Signed the Tripartite normalization framework; permanent-charter ratification pending Authenticated the maintenance route to WORLD TOWER FLOOR 50 [ACCESS SCOPE: FLOOR 50 TECHNICAL INFRASTRUCTURE ONLY] [SYSTEM ASSESSMENT:] The Host has enough assets to worry about infrastructure budgets and still insists on splitting elevator fare with the princess holding his hand.

[NEXT AVAILABLE OPERATION: INVESTIGATE STATION 50.] KTCHHH! The titanium-alloy elevator doors at the end of the platform slid open, revealing a silver, shuttle-shaped pod glowing with soft fluorescent light. The five of them stepped through together: Lucian in an ash-gray travel cloak, a snow-rose pin on his chest. Eleanor with the royal Holy Sword in hand. Sylvia cradling a solid-gold scroll of the Founding Trade Agreement.

Astra working through a strawberry ice cream cone while leading a miniaturized Black Demon Dragon on a leash. Evelyn with a magitech machine gun slung over one shoulder. Outside, Demon citizens, Solaris delegates, railway crews, merchants, and the mutually approved security contingent crowded the platform barriers. Some waved books or bowls of noodles; one section dropped to its knees and started a chant:"LONG LIVE THE NAMELESS CREATOR!"

"THE GOLDEN AGE OF ALL PEOPLES HAS BEGUN!" Click. The titanium pod door sealed shut. A brilliant silver light wrapped around the pod. The elevator let out a smooth mechanical growl and shot straight up the World Tower's central shaft, ripping through cloud layer after cloud layer. From Station 50's control panel, an encoded data packet fired automatically — a long-range signal flare punching past the atmosphere, aimed at a mysterious coordinate buried somewhere deep in the multiverse.

Lucian stood at the crystal-glass window, watching rock strata blur past at a dizzying speed, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold, confident smirk.

"Floor fifty..." He tucked both hands into his coat pockets, eyes lighting up.

"Let's see how much proprietary tech this space station's been sitting on. I've got patents to file."