Author Romeru
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[LSB] Chapter 115: Pissed Off
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 12:55:20 +0000 UTC"Why are you here again!?"
"Julian said there are daemons on the ship, doctor!"
"What do you mean there are daemons on the ship!?"
"I—I’m not sure of the details... he just told me to tell you!"
The frantic buzz of the control room came to a grinding halt. Every single staff member, who had been scrambling to manage the crisis on Mars, froze at the sudden, and extremely loud conversation.
The weight in the room thickened as dozens of eyes turned toward Craig and Dr. Heinz.
"What the hell are you all staring at!? Check for any signs of a portal in the ship!"
Their eyes did not last very long on the conversation, however, as Dr. Heinz snapped them back to work.
His frustration was already at its peak, and Craig—who had never even spoken to the head of the DCC before today—was now being screamed at by him, on his face, twice.
Judging by the way Heinz was glaring at him, he probably wouldn’t have a job after this.
Heinz grabbed Craig by the arm and pulled him to the side, his voice dropping to a sharp whisper.
"Say that again." His hand cut through the air, his fingers twitching in barely restrained irritation. He slapped the back of his hand on his palm several times in a single second,
"What do you mean there are daemons on the ship? How is that even possible?"
Craig opened his mouth to answer—
"Stop."
Heinz didn’t even let him speak. His face was reddening, veins twitching on his forehead as if he were physically holding himself back from exploding. Craig could almost swear there was smoke coming out of his ears.
But really, who could blame him?
Today was already filled with impossible events, but this? This was the final straw. Heinz’s mind was racing faster than it ever had in his entire career. He already had to deal with the daemon wave on Mars, and now someone was telling him they had infiltrated the ship too?
It should have been impossible.
Before today, daemons had only ever appeared on Earth, attacking unpredictably, vanishing without a trace. But now? If they could somehow invade a mothership hovering in orbit, that changed everything.
A week ago, Heinz would have dismissed such a claim as sheer insanity.
But today? Today had rewritten every rule they thought they knew.
The portals had changed the game.
Maybe it wasn’t arrogance that had led the daemons to finally reveal how they infiltrated Earth.
Maybe the portals were the very reason they could now launch bold, direct attacks—on Mars, on their ships, anywhere they wanted.
If that were true, then this was a crisis far worse than they had initially feared.
Heinz rubbed his temples, his mind calculating every possibility. While it was true that the portals emitted energy signals detectable by DCC sensors, they weren’t precise enough to pinpoint their exact location.
Why?
Because the portals weren’t a form of technology.
They were magic.
And of course, Dr. Heinz believed in magic—he simply called it unexplained science.
Which, in this case, meant it was almost impossible to analyze.
Humanity had reached a level of technological advancement where they could explain nearly everything—they had mapped the stars, engineered new life, even bent the laws of physics itself…
And yet, magic remained an enigma.
There were only two things Heinz had ever considered true magic:
One was the daemon portals that have recently shown themselves.
And the other... was Artemia.
When Artemia was first discovered decades ago, Heinz had refused to believe it was real.
He had assumed the entire "Otherworld" was nothing more than an elaborate hoax by Humanity Engineering—some kind of hyper-realistic simulation, where people controlled clones inside a massive dome filled with lifelike holographic projections.
After all, that would still technically count as "virtual reality," right?
But no.
It wasn’t a trick.
It wasn’t a simulation.
It was real.
And if his niece, May—who had joined Humanity Engineering herself—hadn’t proven it to him beyond a shadow of a doubt, he still might not have believed it.
Humanity Engineering had achieved the impossible.
They had discovered a planet outside the Known Universe—a world that defied reason and logic. And somehow, they had managed to do something even crazier with it.
And now, the only person that company has sponsored in their entire existence, was telling them there were daemons onboard their ship.
Dr. Heinz had no choice but to believe him.
“How long does it take to get a goddamn report!?”
His voice thundered through the control room, sending a jolt through the staff. The sudden outburst made them flinch—Dr. Heinz never yelled at them. That was usually Dr. Ling’s job, and so they were never used to him being so ungentle.
The tension in the room escalated as everyone turned toward the technician responsible for scanning anomalies on the ship. All eyes were on her as she worked furiously at her station, her fingers racing across the console.
And then—finally—she pulled back, swiping the holographic display from her terminal and throwing it into the center of the room.
A collective sigh of relief swept through the room.
Until they saw what was on the screen.
An alert that there was a portal in the ship.
It wasn’t a mistake.
It wasn’t interference from Mars.
A portal had manifested somewhere within their ship.
The relief vanished in an instant, replaced by cold, suffocating dread.
“Why didn’t any of you alert me about this earlier!?” Heinz shoved his way back to his station, his fingers flying over the console to zoom in on the display.
The problem was—it didn’t matter how much they zoomed in.
The readings were useless.
The portal wasn’t emitting heat. It wasn’t registering as mass. It was undetectable by any of their instruments—at least, not in a way they could pinpoint its exact location.
“W-We actually picked up the signal earlier,” the technician stammered. “But we thought it was just residual data from Mars! We assumed—”
“We’re not paying you to assume—that’s my job!” Heinz snapped.
He spun around, his furious gaze landing on Craig, who looked like he was one breath away from bursting into tears.
“You!” Heinz jabbed a finger at him. “Get back to Julian and ask him where exactly these daemons are coming from—now!”
Craig didn’t need to be told twice.
He turned and ran—bolting down the corridors as fast as his legs could carry him, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the disaster unfolding in the control room.
But the second he stepped back into the training hall, his breath gasped.
The air was boiling.
It was hot.
Suffocatingly so.
Craig instinctively covered his mouth, trying to breathe through the stifling heat that seemed to burn the inside of his lungs.
[Are you there!? What did he say!?] Heinz’s voice crackled over his comms.
“I… I can’t approach him, sir!” Craig coughed, his voice hoarse. “It’s—it’s too hot inside the training hall!”
[What the hell are you talking about!? There’s nothing showing up on the sensors—wait. Where’s the training hall feed?]
There was a pause as Dr. Heinz talked to the staff in the control room.
Then—
[What do you mean something’s interfering with it!?]
Craig’s comm crackled again, this time angrier than before. [Your name’s Craig, right!?]
“Yes, sir!” Craig barely managed to wheeze out, sweat beading down his temples.
[Then get in there and ask him where the portal is! How hard is that!?]
Craig gulped.
“I… can’t.”
[What do you mean you can’t!? What’s he even doing!?]
Craig forced himself to look past the thick, shimmering heat that distorted the air in front of him.
And there—standing at the heart of the inferno—was Julian Winters.
Forging.
Sweat drenched his face, but his movements were steady—controlled. His hammer rose and fell in a perfect rhythm, sending sharp clangs echoing through the burning room. His body pulsed with heat—so much so that Craig almost swore he saw the metal around him starting to warp.
But what unsettled Craig the most—what made his knees tremble—was Julian’s expression.
He looked angry.
[Angry!?] Heinz practically roared through the comms. [Why the hell is he angry!? Just talk to him! Do you want me to send in drones!?]
Craig was fortunate that their comms weren’t one of those sophisticated nanomachine-based systems—where callers on both ends could physically interact through the machine replicating their movements.
Because if it was, he was certain a million nanobots would be strangling him right now.
Either way, he didn’t have a choice. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and stepped into the training hall.
The heat hit him like a wave. Even with his adaptive clothing, it did little to repel the intensity radiating from within. It wasn’t normal heat—it felt alive, pressing against his skin like it had weight.
Still, Craig pushed forward. His job was more important than his life. And as he got closer to Julian, he quickly relayed what he was seeing to Dr. Heinz.
“I… don’t exactly know what he’s doing,” Craig muttered.
[What do you mean!? You just said he was forging!]
“Well, yes… but he’s using xylarion?” Craig narrowed his eyes, trying to process what he was witnessing.
[Xylarion!? I thought we were out of xylarion!?]
“He’s… I truly don’t have an explanation for what I’m seeing right now, sir.”
Threads. Wisps of white light, delicate yet impossibly vivid, danced around Julian like they had a mind of their own. They flickered, almost intangible—so faint he thought he was imagining them. But the moment he focused on them, they disappeared.
And then—
“Ah! Julian just tore off a piece of the anvil!”
[What!? He’s destroying property now!? Is he really that angry!? Why!?]
“I—I’m retreating! It’s getting too hot!”
Craig didn’t wait for a response. He turned on his heel and rushed out of the training hall, nearly stumbling over himself in his hurry. His lungs ached as he gasped for air, his entire body drenched in sweat. He slammed the door shut behind him, pressing his back against it as he tried to regain his breath.
His wheezing was louder than Dr. Heinz’s frantic voice still buzzing in his ear.
But something felt… off.
The moment he stepped outside, the temperature was normal. Not cooler—not anything. Just normal, as if nothing had changed.
It wasn’t that the hall had been unbearably hot.
No.
Now that he was thinking clearly, he realized something unsettling.
The training hall wasn’t actually hot at all.
Was it just his imagination? Or… did magic exist outside Artemia?
Before Craig’s thoughts could spiral any further, the door behind him suddenly slid open. Instinctively, he flinched, half-expecting a rush of searing heat or a cloud of steam to billow out from the training hall.
But there was nothing.
No smoke. No heat. Just Julian. Was the heat truly just his imagination?
“There are four of them now,” Julian muttered as he stepped out. He didn’t slow his pace, didn’t even glance at Craig—just started walking, his movements purposeful, as if he knew the entire layout of the ship better than the crew itself.
“Mr. Winters!” Craig stumbled forward, rushing to catch up. “Dr. Heinz wants to know where the daemons are coming from so we can send a team to deal with them!”
“It’s fine,” Julian’s voice came low, almost a growl. “I’ll deal with them.”
“What do you—?”
Craig’s words cut short as something caught his eye—glinting metal in Julian’s gloved hands. More specifically, his index fingers and thumbs were now armored with white thin plates.
Xylarion?
Craig slightly frowned. Gauntlets, he could understand. But armor for his fingers? What was—
And then Julian moved.
He lifted his hands to his chest, and Craig finally saw it.
A thin metal ring, floating just beneath Julian’s fingers. No, not floating—hanging. Suspended by something so thin that Craig had to squint just to make it out.
Julian grabbed the ring, and as he pulled, Craig heard it—a faint hiss, like metal singing. The ring stretched outward as Julian’s arms moved apart, and suddenly, Craig understood.
It wasn’t a thread.
It was wire.
A wire so impossibly thin, it was nearly invisible.
“Wait a minute…” Craig’s eyes widened as he quickened his pace, walking beside Julian. “You turned xylarion into a thread? How is that even—? That… wait, is that a weapon?”
“Yes,” Julian answered without hesitation.
“It’s called a garrote,” he continued. “An ancient weapon, mainly used for assassinations.”
He twirled the wire between his fingers, his grip careful, precise.
“But today… I’m going to use it wrong.”
[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]
AUTHOR NOTES
OOH, someone's pissed.
Comments
Rommel Sabido
The assassin becomes the berserker type moment. lol
Peter Smith
Somebody should tell walter, the blacksmiths stealing his trick.
Toby the couch surfer
if it works it aint used wrongly
