Athanasia: My Hacker System

"So in other words, we need to focus more on aerial weapons!"

John and his friends returned toward the depths of their zone, totally ignoring the threats of the Demon they had left behind.

They were dead tired, the kind of exhaustion that seeped into the marrow, yet the gears in John’s mind were spinning too fast to allow for rest. There were too many variables, too many threats, and far too many things he needed to discuss with Goven.

As for his friends, the adrenaline was still surging. They were far beyond the point of sleep; they were in that manic state of post-battle euphoria, recounting tales of fighting Demons and falling silver ships to anyone who would listen.

The presence of a live Demon race member in their group was the ultimate proof of their adventure. As they marched through the central area of the zone, the humans, the Bulltors, and the Krogers approached with a mixture of awe and curiosity to examine the captive.

The Demon himself looked like he was trapped in a waking nightmare. He still couldn’t fathom how he had gone from a member of an elite Demon fleet to a servant of a fallen human.

He followed John’s orders with a fear-driven obedience, but he had no such obligation to the others. He glared at the curious onlookers with such fierce malice that a safe perimeter naturally formed around him.

Goven listened with rapt attention as John detailed the engagement. He stood in silence for a long moment after the story ended, processing the implications before finally speaking the words that summarised their new reality.

John nodded slowly, his expression grim. "It seems focusing solely on ground defences isn’t wise. Even if the Demons fought on the ground as well, and even if the Dragons preferred to engage in close quarters, both races can rain death from altitudes we currently can’t reach effectively. Not to mention, I didn’t even get to see those ships operating at their full combat capacity. I had to focus on the retreat and missed the crux of that battle."

Goven nodded, his gaze shifting to the dark-red giant standing nearby. "A natural dweller of the new world? That’s entirely new to me," he admitted, exhaling a long, slow breath. Then, a wide smile played across his face.

"And yet, it’s a great and plausible surprise. If there are flying ships, there must be a way to bring them down. I’ll wrack my brain and come up with designs for far advanced aerial weaponry. Leave this task to me."

He slammed a fist against his chest with such a force that John winced, half-expecting to hear a rib crack. "Don’t forget what I told you about the aerial traps and the sensory grids," John reminded him. "They were the only reason we weren’t crushed in the initial clash. And the purple grenades, we need a way to launch those in mass."

"I know, I know," Goven excitedly said. "Let me go and start the drafting. Something tells me you will be leaving sooner than expected."

"Well..." John surveyed the bustling activity of the zone. "I believe my work here is done. I need to return to my world. I have to send more humans into the pocket trials and provide them with the strategy to conquer them.

The rules of this world are simple: the more trials my people clear, the more territory we claim. The bigger our zone grows, the longer our protection period lasts."

John had originally intended to spend more time exploring the surrounding areas, mapping the geography and identifying potential mines and other resources he might find. But after the encounter with the Demons, he knew he couldn’t step outside again without a much larger force.

He had gained immense amounts of valuable information, but his one nagging regret was the lack of gemstone mines. He was certain that a world this expansive must have far more resources scattered outside the protective bubbles, and he had hoped to spot a few.

Once Goven scurried off, John turned his full attention toward the captive Demon. The creature was arrogant and defiant toward everyone else, but the moment John approached, the fierce mask crumbled. Fear, sparked by the golden scroll and John’s unnatural combat abilities, dominated his expression.

"Gather around," John commanded.

He didn’t want to begin the interrogation until everyone was present. Even Goven, who had wandered off to a nearby table covered in scrolls and technical blueprints, dragged his workspace closer to hear what the Demon was going to say. No one needed to be told how vital this information was. They were about to peel back the curtain on the new world’s unknown inhabitants.

The Demon stood tall, his dark-red skin glowing faintly in the light of the orange sun, but his head remained bowed in John’s presence.

"Let’s start at the beginning," John said, his voice cold and echoing in the quiet of the area.

"Tell me everything about where you came from. I want the entire story: the origins of your race, the location of your strongholds, the ins and outs of those flying ships, your social habits, your war tactics, and your ultimate goals. Leave nothing out. If I sense even a hint of a lie, you’ll find that my patience is far shorter than your lifespan."

John wanted to hear every detail, from the secrets of the flying ships to the most insignificant social habits of their daily lives.

Yet, when the Demon, who introduced himself as Zingy, began to speak, a heavy silence fell over the gathered crowd. The information he dropped was a series of bombs that shattered their limited understanding of the world.

"We originally came from the Mid Grand Sector of the Source Code World," Zingy began, his voice raspy but clear.

"My race is one of warmongers. We do not create; we snatch. We live by seizing resources from newly developed sectors like this one. Any new sector is inherently weak; its inhabitants are fledglings who cannot stand against our advanced technology, our weapons, and our flying ships."

The interrogation lasted for three gruelling hours. John was frequently interrupting to dig deeper into casual mentions or to pivot the conversation towards more important points. He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Zingy’s face, absorbing the layout of a reality far more complex than any pocket trial.

According to Zingy, the Source Code World was structured into four concentric, massive tiers: the Central Sector, the Middle Sector, the Outer Sector, and the New Sectors. Each tier was home to tens of thousands of races, many of whom had once been vanguards or saviours in their own right, having survived their own apocalyptic trials in cycles past.

"The Demons who came here had to be young and relatively weak," Zingy explained.

"The laws of the New Sector are strict; if a high-tier powerhouse from the other three sectors tried to cross the boundary to the new one, the world’s fundamental laws would backfire, erasing them. We are the seeds sent by our race to sprout in the fertile soil of this new land. We have built our strongholds over many years, starting from the moment the first fog began to recede."

Because these pioneering Demons lacked the world-shaking power of their ancestors, they relied heavily on the flying ships, the specialised gear and advanced weapons they brought from the Middle Sector.

John asked Zingy to draw a map of the current sector. When the Demon finished scratching the lines into the dirt, the result was a sobering reality check. The map was gargantuan. Their massive zone, the one John had been so proud of, was nothing more than a speck of dust in a grand, endless ocean of sand.

"Our ships allow us to project power across distances that would take a ground-based army long months to cross," Zingy said. "The nearest Demon stronghold is at least five months away on foot, yet we can reach it in a matter of days if we operate the engines on full power."