CHAPTER 290: CHAPTER 290 THE TRIGGER CRATE

Liam and Dickson finally reached the far end of the warehouse, weaving between stacks of identical crates. The silence had grown heavier. The place didn’t feel right. Too quiet. Too... staged.

Dickson spotted something on the ground and bent to pick it up — a rusty metal rod. "Might as well make myself useful," he muttered as he walked toward the nearest crate. With a grunt, he jammed the rod into the side and pried it open.

Wool. Again.

Thick, white bundles of processed wool, stacked to the top just like all the others.

Dickson made a face. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Liam’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. "This can’t be it..."

It didn’t make sense. All this setup. For fabric?

Liam stepped away from Dickson and pulled out the comm from his jacket pocket. He clipped it to his ear and tapped it twice.

Five seconds later, Vanessa’s voice rang in.

"What’s wrong?"

Liam’s voice was low and steady. "We’re in. But it’s not what we expected. All the crates here... they’re filled with clothes. Wool. Every single one."

There was a short pause on the line.

"...What?" Vanessa sounded puzzled. "No, that’s not right."

She tapped her keyboard aggressively, re-checking her surveillance feeds. Her eyes scanned the screen as she brought up the security footage she had recorded earlier that morning.

Big trucks. Four of them. Unloading several containers into the building.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I’m watching the feed now," she said. "There were trucks offloading crates here hours ago. Big ones. But... I don’t know, Liam. I recognize some of the men in this footage. They’re Crimson Hand. No way they’re hauling around cotton balls."

Liam grunted softly. "Something’s off. This whole place stinks of it."

He kept his voice down as he circled slowly, scanning every corner of the warehouse. His gut told him the answer wasn’t in what was obvious — but in what was hiding among the obvious.

Dickson suddenly waved him over.

"Yo," he whispered, pointing ahead. "That one’s different."

Liam followed his finger.

Tucked near the edge of the back wall was a crate that didn’t match the rest. It was darker, slightly bigger, and the wood looked thicker—reinforced, maybe. There were no signs, no markings, nothing to identify it. Just silent weight in the corner of the hall.

Vanessa’s voice came through the comm again, growing tense. "What is it? What’s going on?"

"One of the crates is off," Liam replied, walking toward it slowly. "Different build. Darker wood. Feels out of place."

He could already hear the anxiety in Vanessa’s voice spike. "Liam... is approaching it a good idea?"

Liam didn’t answer.

His eyes stayed locked on the crate as he made a wide circle around it, observing it from every side. His senses were on edge now. Something about it screamed wrong, but he didn’t know what.

He finally stepped in front of it.

"Dickson," Liam called out quietly, "back off."

Dickson didn’t argue for once. He jogged backward several meters and ducked behind another stack of crates, watching nervously from behind.

Liam crouched in front of the crate and placed his fingers along the edge of the lid.

He took one deep breath... and ripped it open.

BOOOOM!!!

The world exploded.

A fiery blast erupted from the crate with a violent, deafening roar. The force tore through the air like a shockwave. Bright orange flames burst outward, engulfing everything in a burning radius.

Dickson, even though he had stepped back, was lifted off the ground like a ragdoll. His body slammed into a row of crates behind him, crashing through them. Wood splintered, dust flew up, and then he hit the floor hard—motionless.

Liam didn’t even have time to react.

The explosion threw him backward across the warehouse, his body hitting the back wall with a bone-rattling crash. His vision blurred instantly, the pain in his spine sharp and hot. His ears rang. His mouth tasted like ash.

Everything around him was fire, smoke, and chaos.

The heat was overwhelming.

The crate was now gone—reduced to a burning shell. Several others nearby were already catching fire. The stacks of wool had ignited instantly, and now the warehouse was turning into a furnace.

Liam groaned, trying to push himself off the floor. His limbs felt heavy. His head pounded.

Through the haze of smoke, he saw Dickson’s motionless body. His jacket was singed. Pieces of broken wood lay across his chest.

"Dickson..." Liam muttered, his voice hoarse.

No response.

His heart clenched as he forced himself to stand, staggering under the pressure of the blast still vibrating in his skull.

Vanessa’s voice screamed through the comm.

"Liam?! Liam, are you there? What happened? Talk to me!!"

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t yet.

Everything around him had just gone to hell.

Liam blinked hard as the edges of his vision swam. The world was spinning, distorted by heat, smoke, and pain. He took a step forward—and staggered.

His knees buckled slightly.

His body screamed in protest.

---

DING!

[Critical Damage Detected]

[System Recovery Protocol Initiated]

[Regeneration ×2 Activated]

---

Almost immediately, a warm pulse surged through his limbs, like fire being extinguished from the inside out. His vision cleared little by little, his lungs pulled in oxygen again, and the sharp edge of pain across his back began to dull.

Still, the heat pressed against him. The smoke stung his eyes.

Ahead of him, a loud crash echoed.

A stack of crates collapsed, slamming into the concrete floor. Wool burst across the ground like clouds, instantly catching fire. The flames spread fast, licking up the side of the neighboring piles and filling the entire warehouse with choking black smoke.

"Dickson!" Liam shouted.

No response.

"Dickson!" he called again, louder, but still nothing.

The idiot was down. Still unconscious. Still vulnerable.

Liam clenched his jaw. "Goddamn it."

Without hesitating, he ran forward—straight through the fire.

The flames lashed at him as he burst through, the heat nearly unbearable. His skin blistered on contact, his jacket began to curl and burn, and the smoke forced itself into his lungs. But he didn’t stop.

DING!

[Environmental Damage: Intense Heat]

[Pain Resistance Buff Activated]

He emerged on the other side, smoke rolling off him, the sleeves of his shirt glowing faintly with ember. He dropped to the ground and patted the flames out quickly, coughing as he sucked in fresher air.

"Liam!!" Vanessa’s voice screamed through the comm in his ear. Her panic was raw. "Talk to me, please! Liam?!"

He coughed again, forcing the smoke out of his lungs, then tapped the comm. "I’m... fine."

But his voice told a different story.

It was weak. Rough. Labored.

Vanessa didn’t buy it. "You’re not okay. I’m coming to get you."

"No," Liam said quickly. "Don’t. I’ve got this. Stay put."

He didn’t wait for her response. He was already on the move.

He found Dickson’s limp body crumpled beneath a broken crate, smoke curling around him, his chest barely rising. Liam fell to his knees beside him and hauled his friend over his shoulder.

"Come on, man... wake the fuck up," he muttered.

The building behind them roared louder. Fire now danced across the walls. Explosions crackled from inside other crates. The whole place was turning into a fireball.

Gritting his teeth, Liam pushed through the growing smoke, one step at a time. His legs trembled under the weight of Dickson and the exhaustion clawing at him, but he didn’t stop.

Every foot forward felt like a mile.

DING!

[Burn Damage Mitigated – Healing in Progress]

[External Temperature Critical]

Liam’s skin was raw, red with burn marks, and torn along his forearms, but as he walked, Vanessa’s voice buzzed in again.

"Liam, please—"

"I said I’ve got it," he grunted, voice rough.

Finally, he reached the edge of the building.

With one last surge of strength, he kicked the emergency exit door open and staggered out into open air. The cool breeze hit his face like a slap. Smoke rolled out behind him in heavy waves.

He dropped to one knee and lowered Dickson carefully to the ground.

Dickson groaned.

Liam exhaled, finally.

The bastard was alive.

Dickson blinked up at him, disoriented. His hearing buzzed, and his head throbbed, but as his vision sharpened, he saw Liam crouched beside him.

Liam’s chest rose and fell with labored breath. His jacket was torn open. His arms were scorched, but... healing?

Dickson’s eyes widened as he stared.

"You were... in the fire..." he muttered hoarsely.

Liam didn’t reply. He just sat there, breathing hard, staring at the now burning warehouse they had just escaped.

Dickson finally coughed, voice low. "Dude... you look like hell."

Liam didn’t even glance at him. "You should see the other guy."

The fire roared louder behind them as the building continued to burn.

H