CHAPTER 210: RED ZONE

Chapter 206: Red Zone

The sun was high over the Collapsed Quarter, casting sharp, jagged shadows across the ruined cityscape.

Floor 7’s artificial heat was stifling, pressing down on us like a physical weight.

My team moved through the rusted sewer main in silence.

The air was thick with the smell of stagnant water and old rot, but it was better than the open kill-zone above.

Gideon’s decay magic had opened the grate silently, and now we waded through ankle-deep sludge, our movements muffled by the muck.

"This feels... undignified," Seraphina whispered, holding her bow above her head to keep it dry.

"It’s tactical," I replied, my voice a low murmur.

"Magnus is expecting a glorious charge. He’s expecting us to be stupid. We’re going to disappoint him."

The sewer tunnel ended directly beneath the Water Treatment Plant’s main processing facility. Above us, a heavy iron manhole cover blocked the way.

"Alex," I signaled. "Quietly."

Alex nodded. He didn’t use a skill.

He just braced his shoulders against the iron and pushed. With a slow, grinding creeeeak, the cover lifted. He peered out, then gave a thumbs-up.

We climbed out into the heart of the enemy’s camp.

We were in a large, industrial courtyard, surrounded by rusted tanks and pipes. And we were behind them.

Through the gaps in the machinery, I could see them. Team Ironclad.

Magnus Daven stood near the main gate, his C-Rank aura flaring impatiently.

He was pacing, his heavy mace resting on his shoulder.

His team was deployed exactly as I’d predicted: a tank blocking the entrance, two rogues hidden in the debris, and—most importantly—two archers perched on the high water towers overlooking the approach.

They were staring intently down the main road, waiting for a target that would never come.

"They’re exposed," Seraphina breathed, her eyes gleaming.

From our position, the snipers on the towers were completely open.

Their backs were to us.

"Targets acquired," I whispered. "Seraphina, you take the left tower. Sila"—I addressed the mental projection of my guild’s archer, wishing she were here, then corrected myself—"Twins. You take the right tower. You have to climb. Can you do it silently?"

Finn and Freya looked at the rusted ladder leading up the right tower.

They nodded. Shadows wrapped around them, and they began to ascend, silent as smoke.

"Gideon," I said. "The main group. They’re clustered. Can you hit them from here?"

Gideon peeked through a gap in the pipes. He grinned.

"With [Corpse-bloom]? No corpses yet. But I can use [Miasma] to sow chaos."

"Do it. Wait for my signal."

I turned to Alex and Kaelen.

"We’re the hammer. When the snipers fall, we charge. Alex, your target is Magnus. Don’t fight him to win. Fight him to hold. I’ll handle the rest."

"Got it, Chief."

We waited.

The seconds ticked by like hours.

I watched the twins reach the top of the right tower. I saw Seraphina draw her bow, aiming at the left.

Now.

I dropped my hand.

TWANG!

Seraphina’s arrow flew true. It struck the left sniper in the back of the knee.

He screamed, his leg buckling, and he tumbled from the tower, crashing onto the concrete below.

Simultaneously, on the right tower, the twins materialized behind the second sniper. A dagger flashed.

The sniper dissolved into data particles before he could even shout.

"AMBUSH!" Magnus roared, spinning around.

"BEHIND US!"

But it was too late.

"Gideon! Now!"

Gideon thrust his hands forward.

A cloud of sickly green [Miasma] erupted from the ground beneath Magnus and his core team.

"Cough! What is this?!" Magnus shouted, swinging his mace blindly to disperse the fog.

His team faltered, their vision obscured, their lungs burning.

"CHARGE!" I yelled.

We burst from cover.

Alex led the way, a juggernaut of steel.

He slammed into Magnus’s tank, sending the larger boy stumbling back.

"Vonstel?!" the tank gasped. "You—!"

"Move!" Alex roared, bashing him again.

I activated [Swift Step]. I bypassed the tank, bypassed the coughing rogues, and went straight for the commander.

Magnus Daven.

He saw me coming.

His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in fury. He raised his mace, mana flaring.

"WILSON!" he bellowed. "YOU COWARD!"

He swung. It was a C-Rank strike, heavy enough to crush a boulder.

I didn’t block. I didn’t dodge.

I slid.

Using the slick, mossy concrete, I dropped to my knees and slid under his swing.

The mace whistled over my head, the wind of its passage ruffling my hair.

As I passed him, I lashed out with Draken. [Frost Edge].

My blade cut across the back of his knees.

"ARGH!" Magnus buckled, dropping to one knee.

I popped up behind him, spinning, and kicked him square in the back. He sprawled face-first into the dirt.

"Coward?" I asked, standing over him, Draken’s tip hovering inches from his neck. "I call it flanking."

The battle was over in seconds. His snipers were gone. His tank was engaged.

His rogues were choking on miasma and their leader was on the ground.

Magnus looked up at me, his face a mask of dirt and rage. "You... you didn’t come from the road."

"No," I said. "I came from the sewer."

I looked around at his defeated team. "This is what happens when you assume you know your enemy, Daven. You built a fortress to stop a charge. You forgot to guard the back door."

[ Team Ironclad Defeated ]

[ Bonus: Tactical Ambush ]

Magnus’s form began to flicker as his HP hit zero. He glared at me, hate burning in his eyes.

"This isn’t over, Wilson," he spat. "The next floor... is survival."

"I know," I said cold. "And I’ll be waiting."

He dissolved.

My team stood in the quiet courtyard. Seraphina lowered her bow, a look of disbelief on her face.

"We... we wiped them," she whispered. "A C-Rank team. In under a minute."

"We fought smart," I said, sheathing Draken.

"Now, let’s loot the cache. We have a schedule to keep."

I walked toward the hidden chest Magnus had been guarding, leaving my team staring at my back.

They weren’t just following orders anymore. They were believers.

The iron manhole cover groaned a complaint centuries old as Alex braced his shield against the rusted lip, slowly pushing it aside.

The sound was muffled by the thick, flowing water of the sewer main, but in the oppressive silence of the Tower, every scrape felt like a thunderclap.

"Exit," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the faint plink of dripping rust.

We climbed out one by one, emerging into the heart of the Water Treatment Plant’s industrial courtyard.

The air hit us—stale, thick with the smell of chlorine and old metal, a stark contrast to the stagnant sewer gas.

We were concealed by a wall of rusted, interconnected pipes, perfectly hidden from the main approach.

My [Quantum Analysis Mind] was active, filtering the visual data.

The layout was textbook: a concrete courtyard, ideal for a killing field, flanked by high structures. And the occupants were deployed with predictable, textbook precision.

Target: Team Ironclad (Magnus Daven).

Deployment: Classic Hammer-and-Anvil PvP Ambush.

Anvil (Front): One Heavy Tank (Daven’s main shield), hidden behind the main gate, designed to absorb the inevitable first charge and pin us down.

Hammer (Flanks): Two Rogues hidden in the central debris, ready to hit the DPS/Support line once the Tank engages.

Control (Overwatch): Two Archers perched high on the water towers, providing lethal, unexpected fire support and covering potential retreat routes.

Commander: Magnus Daven (C-Rank),

positioned centrally behind the shield, ready to deliver a crushing spell or mace attack once our formation broke.

They were staring down the main road, anticipating a glorious, heroic charge.

They saw themselves as the superior tactical force, relying on their C-Rank strength and our expected commoner arrogance.

"Pathetic," I muttered, but the contempt was for the predictability, not the power.

They were strong. But their strategy was obvious.

Seraphina, who had been breathing silently behind me, looked at the deployment and her earlier fear was gone, replaced by a cold, hunter’s focus.

"The towers are exposed," she whispered, already nocking an arrow.

"Their snipers are visible from here. We hit them first."

"No," I countered. "Not yet. That’s what they expect. We need chaos. We need debuff."

I scanned the deployment again. Magnus and his core team were tightly clustered, relying on the tank’s defense to withstand any initial barrage.

This was their weakness—a reliance on physical defense.

I turned to Gideon, my eyes meeting his pale, unsettling gaze. "Gideon. This is critical. Look at their position."

Gideon, ever the silent observer, peered through the gap in the pipes.

"The ground they’re standing on," I explained, lowering my voice to an almost imperceptible whisper.

"The Tower’s environment retains the trace essence of all virtual life that has died here. This plant has been used for hundreds of training simulations. Look at the coordinates. This specific section of concrete has traces of residual F-Rank Slimes and Decay Wraiths that died in the last simulation cycle."

This was the core of the lie, the "precognition" that would seal their trust.

My [Quantum Analysis Mind] had provided the information based on the environment’s internal ID:WaterPlant_Courtyard_Sector_Beta.

I knew from the game’s developer commentary that this exact sector had been used to test persistent decay debuffs in training scenarios.

The lingering residue was a fact I couldn’t explain.

"Those residues," I continued, pressing the lie,

"are inert now. But your affinity, Gideon... [Corpse-bloom]... it doesn’t need fresh corpses. It feeds on entropy, on decay. You can awaken that residual essence. You can turn that dead patch of concrete into a live miasma field."

(To be Continued)