Chương 28: The Vault

"Where did you get these clothes?" Lance's voice came through the earpiece almost instantly. Maliard was refining his calculations in the dark of his room.

"Spare sets. They should have a double layer of Lambdite fibre, dense enough to deflect a bullet." He answered quickly, already returning his attention to the data pulled from Lance's map." Wonderful. As though bullets were the real problem..." The memory of his past encounters immediately swallowed the thin comfort the armour offered.

"The topography you sent me is extraordinary, Lance. It looks like there's an entire tunnel complex carved directly beneath the Ruther Institute." Maliard traced long red circles across the monitor with a stylus.

"How did we miss this? The whole structure is perfectly isolated from the original blueprints."

"I have been trying for a while, but connecting the dots here is almost impossible!" His voice had a hint of curiosity, quite unlike him.

"The real question is how all of you missed it." Lance braced for a long rant, slowly putting his hand to his ear.

"It was probably the cave you fought in. The amount of radiation in there must have interfered with the long-range scanners. The deposit is so large that even now I'm struggling to run a clean analysis." Maliard expanded the full hologram of the underground complex, mapping it against Lance's cave. By the computer's reckoning, the two structures sat almost three hundred metres apart.

"My little secret stays safe a while longer, then." While Maliard kept talking, Lance found himself thinking about the second complex he'd spotted at the bottom of the chasm." I really don't know, but that space... Was so strange."

"Either way, we have clearance to explore if we find the entrance to the complex. Don't forget our priority is Dirac, so get him on our side as soon as you can." The location's map was sent straight to Lance's watch, expanded by Maliard. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the violet contour lines.

"I might have an idea..." He grabbed one of the brochures from the metal racks in the corridor, looking for the University's floor plan. Once he found it, he laid it over his watch face, trying to line up at least one outline. His eyes lit up the moment something matched.

"Found the entrance... Maybe." He muttered it just loud enough for his partner to hear, who responded with a sound of total bewilderment.

"How?" Maliard asked, thrown by Lance's claim.

"The plans don't line up anywhere except the Library. From there, the rest of the structure spreads underground, all the way to the room I found." He traced the lit-up outline with his finger, double-checking himself. Maliard immediately compared every version of the maps and found the same match Lance had described. A faint smile crossed both their faces.

"You really have some unusual talents..." Maliard was nodding, tinkering with the command console more quickly than usual"Lance, you have until this afternoon to find the door into the complex. Understood?" Maliard's tone snapped back to all business, and he closed the line.

"Perfect!" He straightened his coat and broke into a run toward the Library, startling the handful of researchers on duty that morning. He slipped twice on the stairs without hurting himself. He stopped in front of the Library's heavy wooden doors, took a breath, and pushed them slowly open. The interior was massive, far larger than the pendulum hall. Brown dominated everything, broken only by the vast spread of colour along the shelves. The weak morning light filtered through the great windows in the ceiling.

Lance's enthusiasm crumbled the moment he spotted the crowd of people studying.

"If I start poking around now, I'll definitely raise some eyebrows..." Disappointed and annoyed, he went to sit on one of the upper floors while he looked for something to read.

"I was already planning to study anyway. With Verghen, this'll be easy." He smiled, grabbing a towering stack of books of every shape and size, tall enough to rival the door of a locomotive. With as much care as he could manage, he set it down on the desk, pulled the top one off, and started flipping through it at insane speed. A couple of hours passed, and the stack had nearly halved.

The contents were even more varied than the shapes: physics books, research on Lambdite, applied mathematics, even old alchemy and world history. One title read ' Culture of the World of Distillates'.

"Why is this book here?!" His brain had already received the information contained. For some reason, he remembered a whistle from one of NOIR's older agents. He let out a long breath, sinking back into his chair, the air around him carrying a faint woody scent. The stack had nearly disappeared, set aside to rest beside him. It was almost lunchtime, and he was just waiting for the bell.

Even with equations and long strings of scientific concepts still flitting through his mind, alongside the names of various spirits, he managed to give his attention to the one slim text he had left to read.

"History of the Ruther Institute? I expected something a bit more... Important." He picked up the text and started reading slowly. Using Verghen on something this small would have been a waste.

"Well... It's nothing out of the ordinary, not to say it is outright boring." He arrived at the last page with an unusual frown on his forehead.

"Despite efforts to reconstruct the Ruther family's lineage, we have only been able to trace an ancestor who lived around one hundred and fifty years ago, by the name of Hector. Judging by the few surviving records, Hector was likely the second-born of the original line that gave rise to the principal families making up the Institute. Christopher Ruther is currently the last known member of the family. He disappeared under mysterious circumstances after the Institute's founding.

Following the Council of Saint-Lumiere, presided over by the leaders of every nation involved in the war, the Institute changed its mandate, choosing to operate exclusively at a national level, to help the population of the archipel recover."

"Christopher Ruther... Both the Institute and NOIR were founded at the end of the Great War." Lance started to turn over what he'd read, caught off guard by the strange coincidence. He opened the last page to find a long list of names, mostly the identifiers of researchers and faculty members who had died during the Great War. Lance recognized a few names thanks to what he'd just studied, but three in particular left him shaken.

"Christopher Noir, missing. Lucas... Hoppenheimer was killed during the bombings. Nyx Monoghan, missing." He found it hard to believe Lucas could be on that list, but what unsettled him most was the name Nyx. He'd never read anything about him, never even heard him mentioned, yet his skin slowly began to go cold. The bell announcing lunch chased away those thoughts, along with everyone occupying the Library. Lance perked up, ready to begin his search.

He explored every corner of the balcony and the entrance, even getting lost in the maze of shelves more than once. Time slipped by quickly, and there was still no sign of an entrance. Lance retreated into the dark of a corner, scanning his map. He'd been searching for well past lunchtime now, stumbling around in the darkness and silence offered by the books.

"If I keep going like this, I'll never find it!" He exclaimed, slamming his fist against the wood behind him hard enough to shake it with a sharp crack. He was starting to lose hope, turning in place like a madman, until he thought he heard voices.

"Voices?! But I see no one here? Am I going crazy from all the studying?!" He gazed around, watching every angle and column.

"Last try. If this doesn't work, I'm done." Frustrated, he decided to use his eyes to track the Frequency. The whole room looked normal, except for a strange shimmer in front of him, well past the wall. The small flickering shape kept sinking, lower and lower, into the depths of the floor. Lance checked his map again, making sure the marked point matched. He felt along the wall with curiosity, searching for some kind of opening." No sign of a hatch or a lever anywhere...

It'd be too cliché to look behind the books." He muttered, disappointed and exhausted, still pressing himself against the wall. He tapped along its surface in quick bursts, hoping for a hollow spot. In his eagerness, he slipped, grabbing onto the bookshelf to steady himself. The entire shelf rotated, revealing the gears underneath. In the middle of the tangle of iron sat a silver keypad, dust caked along its edges." I know that reality imitates art... But aren't we going a bit too far?!"

"Maliard, I found the entrance, but it's sealed with a combination." He pressed his earpiece, waiting for his partner's response.

"Strange, I figured you'd already smashed the door down." He answered, adding his cup to the other four piled up near him.

"I'm not an idiot... Not to that extent!" He exclaimed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him." Shush myself! We mustn't be heard!" Lance slapped his own lips with a force so fiery that he had to recoil.

"I'm just used to standards that are a lot more... Irrational." Maliard answered, fiddling with his keyboard to sync up with Lance's position.

"Hold your watch up to the keypad. I'll try overloading the system from here."

"Can you really do it?"

"Of course! Do you really think that Frequency is used only to bash things?" Lance did as he was told, pressing his wrist as close to the mechanism as he could. The watch's light bathed the silver lock in violet. After a moment, the gears began to turn, and Lance's hand escaped being shredded by pure luck. He didn't even have time to check his arm before the wall behind him began to swing open, revealing the entrance to a long staircase, lit by violet lanterns. Stolen novel; please report.

"Lance... Once you're down there, I won't be able to reach you. Be careful, and come back for the main objective. Over and out." The voice cut off as Lance descended the steps of the gloomy corridor. The air was less damp and suffocating than the post-war tunnels, but it carried the same unsettling weight.

"One last thing... Just..." Maliard's voice buzzed, as if he were now stuck in a storm.

"Monica's... Promise... Don't..." Everything went silent, and the voice of his comrade was replaced by a yet familiar sensation: the stench of mould.

"After this mission, I'm never going underground again." His voice echoed, accompanied by his footsteps against the smooth rock. He found himself in a square room, lit by the faint glow of a triangular crystal set into the ceiling. The checkered floor was scattered with cartridges, hard plastic casings, and even a few burnt-out fuses.

"What the hell happened here..." As he murmured to himself, he heard a sound coming from the darkness ahead, followed by quick footsteps marching closer. Lance ducked behind the entrance, peering out using the reflection off his watch. A faint red light started to emerge. A group of figures in long red cloaks and black jackets of varying lengths stepped into the room, crunching glass underfoot again and again.

They looked almost exactly like soldiers: rifles in hand, holsters at their sides, loose black trousers, even tags strapped to their arms, but the strangest detail was the masks. A thick layer of gears and black metal made it impossible to make out any of their faces.

"Are they Changeant? No, they're not giving off any particular Frequency." Lance studied them carefully, making sure he stayed unseen. Fortunately, the whole group was busy loading a heavy battery onto a piece of machinery.

"How long until it's ready?" One of the four asked, addressing two others busy removing the casing from what looked, in every sense, like a giant drill.

"A few minutes and the door will blow. Lady Worhol gave us the green light." Answered the soldier holding the heavy spherical battery. He slotted it into its compartment, sending sparks flying in every direction. The drill began spinning rapidly, with an irritating screech that forced Lance to cover his ears. The soldier with the longest jacket fiddled with the keypad strapped to his forearm. The machine's motor cut out, returning silence to the room.

"This new tech is truly amazing! Way better than losing a hand inside the machine!" The man boasted with a heavy laugh.

"These are only prototypes from a single vein. Don't be so eager to break them!" The three of them began pushing it forward, finally illuminating the darkness that had been hiding their target. The drill struck a massive door of golden metal, sealed by an equally large valve connected to an intricate system of pipes.

"And what in the Mai--" Lance didn't get to finish whispering before he accidentally stepped on one of the cases on the floor, drawing every eye in the room. He found himself with guns pointed at his face yet again. He raised his hands on instinct, freezing in place.

"IDENTIFY YOURSELF!" One of the soldiers shouted, hefting a long, elongated rifle. A long belt of golden, red-tipped cartridges hung beneath the barrel. The soldier's hand yanked the bolt back hard, chambering a round.

"I'm... Huh..." Lance's mind went completely blank in that moment, like a clean slate, unable to come up with a single convincing answer. He tried to step closer, but the moment he moved, the soldier opened fire. A burst of golden pellets swarmed toward him, accompanied by a cloud of white vapour. Everything behind Lance was riddled with holes, except for him, who had vanished into thin air.

"Sorry..." Suddenly, the soldier felt his weapon get torn from his hands, only to find it pressed against his own face an instant later. Lance's strength shattered both the mask and the gun's stock, leaving the soldier helpless on the ground.

"Another Meta? Wasn't yesterday's woman enough?!" He swore, opening fire in turn. Lance slid across the floor until he was right in front of him. He grabbed the man's bulletproof jacket and slammed him into the ground. The floor cracked under the weight of the heavy gear. The remaining two looked at him, almost terrified, without lowering their pistols. The boy turned toward them, palms open in their direction.

"Let's all just calm down! I'm just doing my jo-" He didn't get the chance to approach them peacefully before a handful of shells embedded themselves in his clothes. The impact of the rounds shot through his entire body, making him grit his teeth. He appeared in front of the two of them, grabbed their pistols, crushed them in his grip, and dropped them at their feet.

"Listen! I just want-" For the third time in a row, Lance was cut off, this time by a baton sending electricity arcing across his skin. Trembling, he grabbed the man's mask and slammed his forehead straight into it. The soldier stumbled backward, immediately caught by him. He was lifted into the air and thrown into his companion. After the impact, both of them lay still on the ground, fortunately still alive.

"How rude!" Lance wiped his hands clean, carefully picking the shell casings out of his coat and trying, without success, to wash out the burned patch on his shirt. He inspected the unconscious bodies, gathering up the fragments of the mask from the floor. He examined his reflection in the gear-covered metal several times. The underside was lined with a thin violet film and strange reddish veins.

"I'll have Maliard and Monica explain who these clowns were." He tucked the fragment into his coat's inner pocket and headed for the door. The drill was still primed and ready.

"How does this thing even work!" He forced the compartment open and looked at the spherical battery, wrapped in thin silver tubing. Inside it, a bluish spark flickered, occasionally tinged with red." A Taumite engine? This must be worth a fortune." Unlike Lambdite, Taumite was a far more commercialized mineral, capable of producing electricity and even ionized gas." A lot of things the rich use are powered by this little thing? Is it really that hard to make life easy for everyone?"

He turned his attention to the giant golden door, nearly twice his height. He placed his hands on the heavy valve, trying to force it to move." This door's got to be almost a meter thick. I can't count on Maliard for this one..." Lance rolled up his sleeves, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. He grabbed the wheel again, throwing all his strength into it. His eyes flickered gold once more, and the scars resurfaced on his skin, all the way down to his forearm.

He felt something shift, followed by a sudden burst of scalding gas escaping the pipes. The metal began heating up fast, slowly searing his hands.

"Really now?! Who built this thing?" Biting down on his lip, he kept turning the door with even more force, ignoring the burning jets of steam against his skin. Finally, the valve gave way, snapping sideways and forcing the door open.

"This place was really hidden under the Institute?" His wounds healed in the blink of an eye, while his gaze was fixed on scanning the magnificent place he ended up in. A circular room, with a massive pillar of white stone at its center. The dark wooden walls, devoid of rot, perfectly framed the figure standing at its top. The statue depicted a man sitting in a rocking chair, playing with a short-haired boy.

He looked to be in his thirties, but the strangest detail was the numbers etched into his arms, exposed by his robes.

"Never seen that design... Maybe he isn't from the archipelago?"

"Where did I end up? Is this room the end of the complex?" He glanced at his watch, making sure he'd reached his destination. Once he confirmed he was in the right place, he started examining the small grooves running along the walls. A red and violet liquid flowed through them, similar to sap, feeding directly into the massive golden panel on the ceiling. The base of the statue opened, revealing a terminal inside. He approached it, confused and curious, slowly pressing the green button in the bottom corner.

The screen lit up, revealing a wide array of files scattered across the computer." Historical Report... Study on the Evolution of the Plague? List of Possible Manifestations? What on earth does that mean?" Lance leaned in closer to the screen, trying to make sense of what was written. The list of notes and research included a series of titles he couldn't begin to understand, but one in particular caught his attention.

"Isn't this a... Computer?! Why is it here?" He kept on caressing the panel, moving his eyebrows up and down at every noise." Nikola Ruther... Is this some kind of journal?" Lance tapped his finger directly on the screen, trying to open the icon shaped like a piece of paper, only to notice, a few seconds later, the sliding trackpad built into the keyboard. He started running his fingers over it, watching with surprise as the cursor moved.

The folder opened, revealing a series of words written in blurred, angular characters.

"Report from July 17th, 126. The singularity seems to have stayed dormant for a while now, a great chance to focus on my research. Those two foreigners, Dyer Craft and Evans Aurelius, have proven to be quite useful to the cause, and even Maire the harpy greets them with a smile on her face. I wish it could last a little longer." The text cut off, switching to another page, but before Lance could actually read it, a message popped up on the screen.

"Create an external save copy? What does it mean?! Should I accept it or not... Ah, damn it!" He hit the green button, starting a download on the monitor, which went dark except for a white bar slowly filling up.

"Do I have to look at it or..." Behind him, a loud metallic clang rang out, followed by gusts of steam and the creak of metal. Lance turned, just barely dodging a shot fired straight at him. An iron dart, like an oversized nail, was left smoking on the floor at his feet. In front of him, he caught sight of the culprit. A robotic figure, much taller than him, thick and heavy, had risen from the ground.

In place of arms, it had a large, sharpened pincer, while the other limb was an enormous cannon loaded with spikes, gathered around its shoulder and fed by a series of gears. Every piece of machinery inside it was clearly visible through the joints. Soon after, another one began assembling itself, emerging from the sealed crates left behind by the soldiers. Gladiolus and Supplicium appeared in Lance's hands, gleaming under the golden light of the vault.

He aimed the revolver at the machines, getting ready to charge.

"I don't know why you're so interested in this, but I now want that journal. Nothing personal." He lunged at one of the Automatons, driving his blade straight into one of its sensors.