Chương 108: 107. A Civilization at War

The car moved. Kelly turned. Through the window, distant scenes of chaos unfolded. Vehicles raced in every direction. Some toward the dome. Some away from it. Some in patterns suggesting no one had decided which direction counted as safe. The cube had not exploded this iteration. That changed everything. She watched. Interesting. The powers that be reacted to their joint mission failing. Their most powerful assets obliterated. One of their most powerful enemies standing at the scene.

A talking skeleton present, interesting and powerful enough that the AI overlords who had once fought Gideon himself simply observed and behaved. Kelly made a mental note. Find out what that skeleton was about. Later. When things were less on fire. The reaction unfolded. Rumbling ground. Gunfire. Flashes of smoke. Explosions rippling in the distance. Panicked responses. Countermeasures activating. She would not be surprised if they dismantled the dome entirely.

If they retargeted whatever orbital strikes had been aimed at the area above the shuttle-hub. If they turned their own weapons on their own position just to feel like they were doing something. Standard operating procedure for people who just lost a fight and needed to feel like they were still in one. What surprised her was the soldiers. The blockades. They erected barriers around the fractured, broken dome. Rows of them. Layers of them. None of them entered. They maintained the perimeter. They waited.

She watched them. They watched the dome. No one moved in.

"Huh," she said.

"They're just going to stand there." Ren glanced at the dome. At the soldiers. At the vehicles streaming past.

"They will enter," he said.

"Eventually. When they have convinced themselves it is safe." Kelly considered that. Considered the perimeter. Considered the fact that no one had breached it yet. Considered that she and Ren were heading exactly where everyone else was heading, and everyone else seemed content to stand outside and wait for permission.

"Good," she said.

"Let them test the water. We'll swim after." The car kept moving. The chaos kept happening. Soon, the sound of booms rumbled as sections of the dome turned molten, flashed, or visibly rippled as more vehicles and soldiers headed to the east grid, some driving past them at speed in the same direction, towards whatever chaos they'd soon be attempting to break into.

"You should not be worried," Ren said, eyes fixed on the projection flickering across the glass.

"Every major power in the United States is tied to that mission. You were fortunate. You arrived after the real monsters had moved on and before worse ones returned. If you had remained any longer, you would never have left that dome, not even with your current abilities." Kelly leaned back.

"Worried? No. Annoyed. That cube has been sitting there too long, begging to be stolen. Even I have not figured a reasonable way to survive taking it." Her voice carried its usual calm detachment.

"They could open the dome and burn the place from orbit. The cube would hold. Verrisimir and the powerful individuals inside would not. Problem solved. Probably." Ren's voice stayed even.

"You turn annihilation into project management."

"Someone has to," Kelly said.

"It keeps the paperwork shorter." The vehicle moved across fractured streets in absolute silence, sensors sweeping ahead in faint blue lines across the display.

"I hid in one of the east‑grid shelters once," she said.

"When the Leviathan came through the coast. Those tunnels run absurdly deep—steel frames, filtration, fake farms. They could keep a suburb alive for years while the world erased itself upstairs." Ren replied without glancing away from the display.

"They were built for survival."

"They were built for containment. Survival was the side effect." Ren's gaze held steady.

"I pity the soldiers surrounding that dome. They should have sent only those able to survive the fallout. Sending ordinary troops was waste." Kelly's tone lifted just enough to sound amused.

"Waste looks heroic on broadcasts. Makes good recruitment ads." Ren said, "You believe that was intentional."

"When profit meets policy, nothing is accidental." The dome's reflection pulsed across the windshield, red and then white.

"Everything burns," Kelly said.

"And someone gets paid for calling it reconstruction. Public projects become reports, reports become bonuses. It is an art form." Ren's answer was deliberate.

"There is magic still manifesting above the skyline. That cube breaks natural law. They consider any cost acceptable." Kelly answered almost lazily.

"Cost means nothing to those who keep resetting the budget. They call it advancement, then draft new safety slogans. Same rot, cleaner font."

"Those shelters are saving lives," Ren said.

"They are keeping the census from dropping too fast," Kelly replied.

"Anyone rich enough to complain already left orbit. The rest remain underground so someone can claim humanitarian success. Let us agree to disagree." This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. The hum of the vehicle filled the pause that followed.

"I was never sentimental," Kelly said.

"I grew up where staying alive was an argument you had to win every day. If I had not met Jennie, I would not be here speaking to you now." Ren asked, "You found her, or she found you?"

"Both," Kelly said.

"Two broken kids pretending they weren't fractured messes. She made survival look manageable. We both became less broken, I think." Her tone slowed.

"There was one death before that. Not planned. I moved the wrong pieces, the wrong man was in the room, he had a gun, he used it, he dropped, and I kept running. The memory did not." The memory had haunted her. Right up until her internship, she hadn't hurt a fly since, at least, not like that. Ren's voice dropped a note.

"And now?" She had become far more than a mere intern—an explorer who waded through ruins for answers, a warrior who refused to yield to the world's collapse.

"Now I have learned to use what I have without apology," Kelly said.

"I am not an intern anymore. I am a scientist who stopped waiting for permission to exist." She flexed her hand; metal shimmered and vanished beneath the skin.

"Still no raise." The dome's distant flare washed the cabin white and left them both in silence as the vehicle carried on through the ruins. Most of New York was burning. Whole skyscrapers split open like overripe fruit, smoke rolling through the streets while the car weaved past blacked‑out tunnels. The escort drones didn't even glance at her lane—they were too busy flying toward the city's platinum heart, escorting convoys stacked with corporate tags.

Every ounce of protection in the city had been rerouted to the wealth districts. Automated guns, private guards with titanium smiles, National Guard leftovers, and a few self‑styled "heroes" who treated open fire as overtime—all of them were crammed into the same grid, keeping the rich alive long enough to file claims. Kelly leaned her head against the window, voice flat but bright around the edges.

"We're watching triage for bank accounts." Ren said nothing. The console reflected flashes of heat signatures from the upper towers.

"Insurance probably covers alien invasions," she went on.

"They'll still argue that a magical invasion doesn't count. The lawyers will call it an act of God, and God'll lose the lawsuit." Ren's tone stayed even.

"You sound certain."

"I've seen premium policies," Kelly said.

"You'd be amazed how creative deniability gets when there's profit on the line." They rolled past a downed gunship. One drone was still sparking against the front of a twisted building, corporate logos half burned away. The United States government, Vaughn, Genecorp, Han Cybernetics, and Crystal Nanotech had gone to war over the cube's machine and come out bleeding. Now their directors sat in orbit, staring through real‑time streams of destruction.

If any of them had won, they'd still be watching—different chair, same appetite.

"Research," they would call it, waiting for the next creature with wings and opinions to fly out of a hole. Ren checked the route readout.

"The pattern looks deliberate."

"It always does," Kelly said.

"They think if they record enough horror, the paperwork cancels out the guilt." Flashes of movement passed them—civilians stuck topside, carrying carts and boxes, moving between the shells of buildings. Some limped. Some just sat.

"See that?" Kelly nodded at them.

"Too old to fight, too broke to buy a ticket underground. The shelters charge subscription rates now. Credit or you choke on the surface." Ren's hands tightened once on the wheel.

"They will not outlast the night."

"No one does," Kelly said.

"Still, they try. Credit where credit's due." They cut across the next junction, the skyline building back up into molten silhouettes.

"In a few months," she said, "the counties will rebuild, the networks will spin it, and those people out there will become cautionary tales. All wrapped up in corporate sympathy and tax relief."

"The government already stated there were no life signs in the blocks ahead," Ren said.

"Sure," Kelly replied.

"It's easier than admitting they killed them. No bodies, no proof, no guilt. Neat loop." A paused headline flickered across the dash: rebuilding timelines, projected financial recovery, expected voting population ratios. Kelly watched it, unimpressed.

"When they crawl out, they'll find a whole new city ready to sell them an apology. Reconstruction made by the same industries that built the guns. And the elites? They'll log this as an inconvenience. Five centuries on the clock, not a hiccup in the schedule." Ren said nothing.

"It's beautiful in a disgusting way," Kelly muttered.

"Tragedy's their most renewable resource." Her irritation lit warm in her chest, not hopeless, but wired with intent. She resolved that she would one day start siezing stupid magic cube and the giant power crystal inside it in every single loop.

if there was no loot, there would be no pirates She owed Rowena, her eccentric, half‑mad tutor who lived knee‑deep in mutated seedlings in the old botanical lab, and Caleb—the intern she'd dragged through skeletal‑knight tunnels under the city when Genecorp's goons decided science meant war. Even that greasy, self‑important shopkeep Luigi in the Mist Market, a man who charged extra for breathing near his counter, got a place on the list. Kelly owed them all at least this much. She looked at Ren.

"It's time." Ren let out a slow breath, long enough to sound like he was weighing every piece of the plan again, then pulled the truck over. They climbed out, and he opened the back compartment. Two helmets waited beside a sealed silver case. He handed her one.

"This will jam every signal and x‑ray known to man—and a few they have not publicly named," he said.

"But it leaves a person‑shaped gap in some of the newer detection systems. If anyone sees that hole, they will not know who we are, but they will know someone's there. Keep out of sight." Kelly ran a thumb along the edge of the helmet.

"So we're invisible until we're not. That's comforting." She thought about what the scanners of this era still couldn't do. Unless someone had mana scanners or dark‑energy readers active, nobody could see her at all. It was still early, too early for the units posted in battlefield zones to need those. Most considered seeing a fifteen‑foot extradimensional horror physically eating your coworker sufficient warning.

Only the fringe researchers—the kind she used to work with in Project Portal—thought to bring detectors. That overgrown pigeon Verrisimir and his god Illvyr might glimpse her through mana vision, or some other combination of active—or god forbid, passive—skills, but they were busy tearing through human armies. She'd be gone before they blinked. Ren climbed back into his suit without another word. In the closed air of the truck, Kelly's voice stayed calm.

"Relax. I've slipped through worse with less." The helmet locked into place with a faint hiss. She popped the door, the heat and smell of shattered asphalt greeting her. Ren swung his door open, steady as ever.

"Let's move." And while extradimensional, human, and artificial gods fought each other for treasure, Kelly and her mentor went to steal it.