Project Seraphina [LitRPG, Magitech, GL]

No one says a word as we step into the waiting transport, and frankly, I can’t blame them. Chloe is still shaken, knowing she’s been spied on for… at least a couple of days. I don’t think we were tracked on the way to the dungeon, but maybe Monday or Tuesday? In either case, it’s a violation, and one which I won’t suffer, should I ever be fortunate enough to track down the individual or group responsible for this breach of my girlfriend’s privacy.

Clara sits in the passenger seat, while Chloe and I take our seats in the back. As the car rumbles and the driver makes his way to the main road, and from there to the airport, I’m again surprised as I realize that the automobile is also conventional technology. Internal combustion engine, powered by gasoline— one of the increasingly few vehicles operating off the increasingly rare and paradoxically valuable fuel of the pre-System days. Some people just really like the acrid smell and the feel of horsepower under their feet, I guess.

As for why we’re traveling this way? I can only speculate, but I imagine there’s something affixed to the car that would disrupt the operation of Ethertech. My inability to access my [Artificer’s Glasses] in my [Inventory] is certainly evidence that there’s something else going on.

I take Chloe’s hand in my own and gently caress it, causing her to lean her head on my shoulder. [Angelic Bond] doesn’t appear to be stifled here, so I take the brief lull to communicate with her in the vehicle otherwise devoid of conversation.

“I’m here for you, Chloe.”

“I know, Sera.”

“I apologize for not seeing that device earlier. I should have paid more attention, but I didn’t.”

“I want to say that it’s fine, Sera. But it’s not. And I’m not mad at you, but– My patients all have a right to privacy. The right to discuss things with me that might be embarrassing, maybe even illegal— drugs, STD’s, the list goes on. They deserve to know that I will hold whatever they tell me in absolute confidence, hell or high water. And because of these… assholes! Now, that information is out there.

“And yeah, I know, they just want to track the two of us and they ‘don’t care’ about what gets said in those offices, but they were listening in; I just know they were, at all times. And–”

My arm slides around Chloe’s waist. There’s not much I can say or do to fix her problem, so I simply offer her emotional support. Let her know that her feelings are real, that I accept them, and that I’ll do everything I can to support her, to the best of my ability and knowledge of how to do so.

We sit in silence for a moment until Chloe breaks it once more.

“We’re going to get Mom back.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to see her home safe and sound. Anyone who tries to stop me? They shan’t live to regret it.”

Tension remains in the car all the way until we arrive at the airport. Not the main passenger terminal for commercial flights, but a separate hangar off to the side, one I never would have realized was there had I not been actively looking for it.

The car stops and the three of us get out, again without saying a word. No luggage to speak of; each of our [Inventory] holds more than enough effects for what shouldn’t take more than a day or two. All the while, Clara still hasn’t deactivated her Skill, only the door opening and closing serving as any indication that she was ever there at all.

And then, once we’re all out, the car drives off. To what end, I don’t know, and it’s not my responsibility. I can’t hope to unwind all of the antidetection and secrecy protocols, charms, equipment, and Ethertech all of them carry on their person and their effects. I would call such extremes paranoia, except they just paid off in a big way.

We board the waiting aircraft. It’s a small one, with two propeller engines, although I don’t know about aviation to know the make or model. The main cabin has seating for fifteen, but it’s in an arrangement that looks more like a conference room than the sardine-rows associated with economy class airlines. A man standing silently standing by the door closes and locks it, and only once he has does Clara finally drop her veil, looking slightly winded for the effort. [Ether Strain] I assume, but why hasn’t she taken a Skill to negate it? Six General Slot syndrome? Or has she simply not done enough to be offered it in the first place?

Maybe only a reckless fool of a [Mechanical Angel] who rushes in where her organic brethren fear to dread gets rewarded for her brashness with [[Ether] Strain Immunity]. Chloe has a weaker variant of it, as far as I’m aware, one that grants only partial protection, dulling the pain without blocking it out entirely. In either case, it doesn’t matter too much, and I allow my curiosity to migrate to the back of my mind where it belongs.

“Miss Jacobs, Miss Mortensen,” Clara says. “I apologize for my inability to properly inform you of the present situation until now, but as you are already well aware, all of our movements are being tracked.”

“So,” Chloe interjects, “What can we do? Without the element of surprise, how can we hope to overpower so many operatives?”

“Operational security, Miss Jacobs. I assure you, even if they have some knowledge of our tactics and resources, they are unaware as to the full scope of our operation.”

Clara sits down in the seat in front of us and fastens her seatbelt before nodding to the attendant from earlier. Said attendant flashes a hand signal into the cockpit, at which point, the engines begin to rumble underneath. Once again, it’s conventional technology, which only furthers my suspicion that these agents have some sort of Etheric disruptor that they don’t feel confident keeping onboard one of the new Ethertech planes showing up over the skies these days.

“What can you tell us?” I ask. “I understand the idea of operational security, but now that we’re on our way and there are no ears–”

“Never assume that there are no ears. Even here, on the Onyx Eagle.”

“Still, we need to be able to coordinate.”

“And we will, Miss Mortensen. Once we are at altitude and away from local airspace, we will be able to properly jam all radio communication. Only then will I feel safe enough to speak openly. I know it is not in your nature to trust me–”

“I can hardly be blamed, given I’m working with federal spies.”

“Detectives. Regardless, you can trust me to work in our best interest until Alicia Jacobs is returned safe and sound.”

And I do trust her that much, and not one minute longer. The idea that I’d be forced to expend every ounce of effort to secure Mom’s return, and then be arrested or even extrajudicially executed on the spot. I have my enemies, and I’ve snubbed more than enough powerful people who might decide to take advantage. Again, it might just be paranoia, but Clara just demonstrated that just because I’m a little paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t also watching.

The plane bounces along the runway before taking off. I don’t remember the last time flying not under my own power. My family was never exactly well-off enough for elaborate family vacations, and I often wasn’t invited with Chloe and her— now our— family either. Maybe three years ago, I think. It’s… well, I guess it’s not scary when I don’t have to be afraid of a crash landing. Chloe and I could carve our way out and be little worse for it.

Clara? I’m sure she’d find a way out of such a mess on her own.

The hum of the engine continues on in the background as we rise over the clouds. I must admit that the travel is much quicker by these machines than even our current personal strength can allow, and with far more comfort to boot. The chairs are nothing short of luxurious, plush and hearty, with generous arm wrests and even a little leg cushion. A reminder that just because the world is unfair now doesn’t mean it wasn’t also so before.

I guess now I get to enjoy the fruits of my efforts, if only for a couple of hours. Though I dare not let myself get too comfortable. Not so long as Alicia remains unsafe.

“Alright,” Clara says. She reaches underneath her chair and pulls out two identical envelopes, handing one to each of us. “It’s not much, but here’s all the information my agents have.”

Not much, Clara says. Approximate numbers of enemy combatants, predicted levels, Skills both known and hypothesized, class information… There’s also a detailed dossier of their technology, the lay of the land. Nothing about the internal layout of the dungeon in which they’re stationed or the effects the dungeon might have upon us once we enter, but I can’t expect as much. It would be far too risky to send agents that far within, and I don’t blame Clara or her subordinates for not taking that risk.

What bothers me is that everyone listed here is too low leveled. Levels from 50 to 55, some in the upper fifties? If they have as much reach and knowledge as they demonstrated, they’d know they were completely outclassed by Chloe and I. The battle with Fornieth was broadcast across the globe a million times by now; if a level 85 demon couldn’t stop us, they must know all of these people together add up to fodder.

So what’s the angle? Higher level individuals? Or maybe some machines or other devices that augment their power? I’ve heard about some alchemists who can brew potions that can give effects rivaling the bonuses granted by my [Rebellious Surge] or Chloe’s [Saintess’s Blessing]. Then again, maybe the leaders really are so callous as to throw away thousands of lives just like that. I could never hope to understand that mentality, but that doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge that it exists among a darker, more selfish side of humanity.

As we start to descend, I decide to try something a bit underhanded and maybe even nefarious, in the hopes that I can squeeze a little more information out of Clara before we touch down.

“Clara, would it disrupt whatever device you’re using to jam Etheric interference if I cast a spell right now?”

“You shouldn’t be able to, Miss Mortensen. There’s a damping array plastered all over the outer hull.”

“Doesn’t affect me. Special Skill. Anyway, I want to cast an enhancement spell on you. It’s pretty intensive in terms of the [Ether] cost, so I wanted to see about doing so now so I can start regenerating before we arrive.”

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt the navigation or damage the plane, I have no objections.”

I cast [Rebellious Surge] on Clara, filling her with anarchic energy and feeling the shackles on her current strength loosen. What I’m not sure about and plan to test is if that anarchic energy also affects the mind the way that one’s classes do.

“That is… quite the Skill you have, Miss Mortensen.” Clara looks away toward the window, watching as we pass harmlessly through a cloud. If only she knew that it was twice as effective when I use it on Chloe.

“I need to know, Clara. Are we flying right into a trap?”

“A trap? Yes. I have no doubt in my mind that this is a trap.” She says it so nonchalantly, almost relishing the fact that there’s more pieces on the board than Chloe and I can see.

“But even now that you know that this is a trap, you’re not going to change your mind about this operation. You would’ve gone barging in anyway, headfirst with weapons drawn. It’s written all over your faces, both of you. At least this way, we have a chance of success.”

I know there’s something she won’t tell us about, or can’t, even despite the anarchic presence now surrounding her. But she’s right; Chloe is completely undeterred by her words and I already swore to support her however I could. I don’t like it, but we’re already airborne and all-in. All we can do is everything we can to maximize the chances of success… And if that fails, at least we can fight for our survival.