Chapter 176: The Underworld Scavengers
The rain was still falling when Holden climbed down from the wall and walked back toward the crater.
The mud sucked at his boots with every step, while the ash from the Siege Turtle was already turning into a grey paste, mixing with the rain and dirt until the crater looked like a giant had dumped a bowl of wet cement on the ground. Steam still rose from the edges where the heat had baked the mud solid.
Holden dropped into the crater.
The center was pure ash. He could feel the residual heat through his soles.
The glow appeared before he reached the center.
A Platinum Chest.
It hovered three inches above the ash, spinning slowly.
Holden’s fingers closed around the metal surface, and the chest dissolved into his System Inventory instantly.
[Platinum Chest Acquired!]
[Stored in System Inventory.]
He stood in the crater, rain running down his face, and took a breath. The battle rush was fading, and the adrenaline from the drop was settling into a dull, pleasant hum in his muscles. His System balance glowed softly in his vision.
[Current KP: 582,290]
Good, but not enough. He needed to get back to the wall, regroup with his team, and figure out the next move before the portal spat out something worse than a giant turtle.
Then he heard it.
His 10,000x processor picked up on something his conscious mind hadn’t registered yet, a pattern in the ambient noise that didn’t fit. Multiple footsteps, trying to be quiet. Coming from behind the supply tents, thirty meters to his left.
He turned his head.
The supply tents were a row of canvas structures near the inner wall of the compound. They held the Outpost’s reserves: Aether Crystals, medical supplies, spare weapons, ammunition, and the critical resources that kept the fortress running.
In the chaos of the Siege Turtle attack, the guard detail on the supply tents had been pulled to reinforce the walls. Nobody was watching the stores.
Somebody had noticed.
Holden moved fast and silent. The Void Mantle wasn’t active, but his Rank 3 body didn’t need it. He crossed the thirty meters of open ground in three seconds and pressed himself against the side of the nearest tent.
He listened.
grnt. hnnf.
Grunting. The sound of heavy lifting. Something being dragged through mud.
Holden edged along the tent wall and peered around the corner.
Five men.
They were built like brick walls, with thick arms, thick necks, and thick armor. The kind of armor that wasn’t issued by any academy or military force. Patchwork plate, mismatched gauntlets, blades strapped to every available surface. Professional fighters. Mercenaries.
Three of them were loading wooden crates onto a cart. The crates had the Vanguard military seal stamped on the side. Aether Crystal containers. Each one was worth a small fortune on the black market. The other two were standing watch, hands on their sword hilts, eyes on the compound.
And on the back of the nearest man’s neck, visible above his collar, was a tattoo.
A red serpent coiled around a broken crown.
Holden knew that mark.
The Blood Colosseum.
The Capital Underworld’s premier fighting pit. The same place where Holden had fought as "Asura" to farm KP in the early days. The same thugs who ran the illegal gambling dens, the black market weapon trade, and the enforcement rings that terrorized the Capital’s lower districts.
They weren’t here to fight monsters. They were here to loot.
The Siege Turtle attack had punched a hole in the compound’s security, and these vultures had slipped in through the breach to pick the bones clean while the soldiers were dying on the walls.
Holden watched them work. Efficient. Practiced. They had done this before. One man pried the crate open with a dagger, checked the contents, then nodded to the loader. The crystals inside glowed faintly blue, casting light across his face.
"Three more crates," one of the watchers said. He was a big man with a shaved head and a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. "Load them and we move before anyone notices."
The captain, a shorter man with a trimmed beard, didn’t look up from the crate he was inspecting. "The wall crew won’t notice anything for another hour. That turtle had them pissing themselves. We’ve got time."
"You sure about that? I heard someone dropped a building on it."
"Doesn’t matter. Dead is dead. Focus on the crates."
The big man with the scar grunted and reached for another container.
Holden didn’t call for the guards.
He reached into his System Inventory and pulled out the Asura mask.
The one that had terrorized the Blood Colosseum and every underworld figure in the Capital.
He put the gold mask on and stepped around the corner.
No sound. No announcement. He just appeared in the gap between two tents, standing in the rain, wearing a black cloak and a gold mask that seemed to absorb the dim light around it.
The watcher with the scar saw him first.
His hand went to his sword, and his mouth opened to shout a warning.
Then his eyes focused on the mask.
The hand stopped and his mouth stayed open. The words never came, and the color drained from his face so fast it looked like someone had pulled a plug.
"Cap," he whispered. His voice had gone from confident to a croak in half a second. "Captain. Look."
The captain looked up from his crate.
He saw the gold mask. The stillness of the figure wearing it.
The dagger in his hand clattered against the crate.
"Holy hell," one of the loaders breathed. He stepped backward, tripped over a crate, and sat down hard in the mud.
squelch.
"Shut up," the captain hissed, but his voice was shaking. He knew the mask. Every man in the Blood Colosseum knew the mask. They knew what it meant when that gold face appeared in the dark.
Asura.
The captain’s hands went up slowly, the way a man raises his hands when he’s staring at something that could kill him before he finished blinking.
"Look. We didn’t know you were here. We had no idea this was your territory. We’ll walk away. Right now. No trouble. You can have whatever’s on the cart."
Holden didn’t move.
The captain swallowed hard. His throat clicked.
"The crates. Take them. All of them. The crystals, the supplies, everything. It’s yours. We’ll disappear. You’ll never see us again. I swear on the Pit itself."
Holden tilted his head slowly, a small movement that meant nothing and everything.
Then he spoke.
His voice came out wrong. Not like Holden’s voice. Deeper. Flatter. Empty of everything except the promise of consequences.
"Leave the bags."
The captain nodded frantically. "Yes. Yes. The bags. Gone."
"Empty your pockets."
The captain’s hands trembled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a pouch. Heavy. Full of coin. He dropped it in the mud.
"You heard him!" he snapped at his men. "Empty your pockets! NOW! Everything!"
The mercenaries complied fast. Pouches, belts, hidden pockets. They dropped their personal cash, their side weapons, and their spare energy vials into a growing pile in the mud. The big man with the scar pulled a ring off his finger and threw it onto the pile, while a loader dumped a satchel of uncut gemstones.
The pile grew. Crystal pouches, gold coin, gemstones, weapon components. The combined wealth of five professional underworld mercenaries, piled in the mud at the feet of a gold mask.
Holden looked at the pile, then at the cart, and finally at the captain.
"Walk away."
The captain didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and walked, fast. Not running, because running might trigger something, but walking with the desperate urgency of a man who had just been given his life back and didn’t want to do anything to lose it again.
The others followed. The big man with the scar was the last to move. He looked at the gold mask one more time, his jaw working like he wanted to say something. Then his nerve broke, and he followed the others into the rain, disappearing around the far side of the tents.
squelch. squelch. squelch.
Their footsteps faded.
Holden stood in the rain, surrounded by crates of stolen Aether Crystals and a pile of underworld wealth.
He reached down and touched the nearest crate. The System registered it instantly, pulling the entire contents into his Inventory.
[Aether Crystal Cache (Military Grade) Acquired! x12 Crates]
[Underworld Currency Acquired!]
[Uncut Gemstones Acquired!]
[Weapon Components Acquired!]
He moved through the pile methodically, crate by crate, pouch by pouch, until everything went into the System.
The mud where the pile had been was empty. Just rain and footprints.
Holden pulled the gold mask off and slipped it back into his Inventory.
He looked up at the sky. The smoke was still there. The portal was still pulsing on the horizon. The war wasn’t over.
He started walking back toward the barracks. Halfway there, Maeve’s voice came through the earpiece.
"Holden? Where are you? Venus is asking for a status report on the eastern trench."
"Tell him it’s fine. I was doing a supply check."
"A supply check? In the middle of a siege?"
"Someone has to count the crystals."
A pause. Maeve knew him too well. She could hear the thing he wasn’t saying, but she also knew when to push and when to let it go.
"Fine. Get back to the barracks. You need sleep."
"Copy that."
He reached the barracks door, paused, and glanced back at the supply tents. The rain had already washed away the footprints. The cart and crates were gone. The mercenaries were gone.
Everything was clean.
Holden stepped inside, closed the door, and leaned against it. His System interface glowed in the dark room.
[Current KP: 582,290]
[Multiplier: 10,000x]
[KP Booster: 2x Active]
[Fighter Rank: Rank 3 (1-Star)]
[Inventory: 11 Silver Chests, 7 Gold Chests, 3 Platinum Chests (Unopened), Aether Crystal Cache x12, Underworld Currency, Uncut Gemstones, Weapon Components]
He stared at the list for a long moment.
Then he stepped back, took a breath, and opened his Inventory.
"Dump," he said quietly.
Everything came out at once.
Time to see what he had won.