Chapter 70: Armament: Pulse Container

The group had relied on a single cleared route to reach the northern, eastern, and western boundaries of the barrier.

That path had been deliberately chosen, as it curved around known danger zones and allowed them to avoid every incursion along the way.

Because of that, they’d moved efficiently, without unnecessary delays or confrontations.

The southern boundary was different.

There was no way around it.

To reach it, they had to pass through an incursion.

Fortunately, or so it seemed, it wasn’t on the same level as Siren Swamp.

This one was classified as an unranked level 2 incursion: Golems Tundra. Dangerous, yes, but manageable under normal circumstances.

Adam and Abigail stood side by side, staring at the wired fence that surrounded the incursion.

Through the gaps in the metal mesh, they could already see the tundra beyond snow-dusted ground, jagged stone formations, and a pale, frost-heavy mist clinging low to the surface.

It felt wrong.

Outside the fence, the land was dry and temperate. Inside, it was an entirely different world. The contrast was so sharp it felt like reality itself had been cut cleanly in two.

But the strange environment wasn’t what occupied Adam’s thoughts.

Up until now, they hadn’t been able to approach the other incursions they passed earlier.

None of them lay directly on their route, and diverting would have cost time they couldn’t afford.

Because of that, Adam and Abigail hadn’t been able to confirm their suspicions about Henry’s actions, so they’d waited.

Now, finally, they had their chance.

This incursion would tell them whether Henry’s explosion had truly affected more than just Siren Swamp.

Adam’s gaze swept across the fence, and he frowned.

There were no Acolytes stationed here.

That immediately felt off.

A wired fence alone was never meant to be a true containment measure.

It was a cost-saving solution, useful for marking boundaries, discouraging civilians and easy expansion whenever the incursion increased in size, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop monsters if something went wrong.

Adam knew that. Everyone in the mission hall knew that. Which meant there had to be something else.

Before Adam could think further, the acolyte leader stepped away from the group and moved toward a small, half-buried post near the fence.

He stood in place, reached into his coat, and pulled out a device that looked like a compact remote and pressed a button.

A sharp, mechanical sound echoed through the air—beep-beep—it was uncannily similar to the noise a car made when unlocked from a distance.

Adam’s eyes narrowed.

And in the next moment, the world seemed to fall unnaturally silent.

It wasn’t as though there had been a loud sound before, but the sudden stillness felt heavy, like pressure settling over the air. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

Adam frowned.

“What was that?” the words slipped out unconsciously.

Abigail, standing beside him, turned her head slowly. Even behind her sunglasses, her confusion was obvious.

“You don’t know what a pulse container is?”

Adam looked at her, his expression serious, eerily so, especially when contrasted with his battered, bloodstained state.

“I was too focused on training to care about anything else,” he said flatly.

“…”

The way he phrased it made it sound less like a confession and more like an accusation, as if anyone who did know about such things had clearly been wasting their time.

Abigail stared at him.

Even with her eyes hidden, it was painfully clear she was giving him a you cannot be serious look.

She took a slow breath, clearly preparing to disengage, if only to maintain her blood pressure, but before she could step away, Adam shamelessly added,

“Since you know about it, why don’t you tell me about it?”

“…”

“…”

They locked eyes in silence for several long seconds.

Finally, Abigail spoke.

“I see why you don’t have friends.”

Adam bristled instantly.

“Hey—”

But before he could complain properly, Abigail cut him off, clearly deciding that explaining things would be faster than arguing.

Abigail explained it to him in a calm, measured way, stripping away the technical jargon and leaving only what actually mattered.

Despite his earlier bluntness, Adam listened.

Every word was filed away, connected to things he had already seen and experienced.

By the time she was done, the vague picture he had of how the mission hall “handled” incursions had finally become clear.

A pulse container wasn’t something that could be used just anywhere. For it to function, the environment itself had to be compatible.

That compatibility only existed after an incursion formed.

When an incursion appeared, it didn’t just introduce monsters, it warped the environment at a fundamental level. Terrain, atmosphere, even the way essence flowed through the area was altered.

This warped state was the only condition under which a pulse container could operate properly.

The altered environment allowed the pulse to travel farther, propagate more evenly, and amplify its effects without rapidly losing power.

Without that environmental distortion, the device would be useless.

The second requirement was the device itself.

Contrary to what Adam had expected, a pulse container wasn’t just a machine, it was an armament.

It was always buried directly in front of an incursion, driven into the ground at a precise ninety-degree angle.

When activated, it released a continuous high-frequency essence pulse.

That pulse interfered with the coordination of living beings by subtly disrupting neural signaling, nothing lethal or immediately obvious, but enough to scramble instinctive movement.

To monsters, the effect was overwhelming.

Their neurons misfired, their sense of direction distorted, and their aggression reflexes pushed them away from the wired fence rather than toward it.

The fence itself wasn’t meant to restrain them physically; it acted as a conductor, spreading the pulse evenly around the incursion’s perimeter.

The frequency was so constant, so pervasive, that over time the senses adapted to it.

That was why, when the device was shut off, the sudden absence of interference made the world feel unnaturally quiet, like pressure being lifted from the air.

However, the design was deliberate.

Outside the fence, the pulse weakened rapidly, ensuring civilians and personnel wouldn’t suffer any disorienting side effects.

Inside, though, it was absolute control.

That also explained why the device had to be turned off before entry.

If left active, the same neural distortion that confused monsters would interfere with martial artists’ perception, reaction time, and decision-making, turning a controlled operation into a death sentence.

Even with all that, the pulse container wasn’t perfect.

Monsters could adapt. Environments could destabilize. External interference could weaken the pulse.That was why incursions still required routine inspections.

By the time Abigail finished, Adam understood it completely.

He gave her a brief nod.

“Thanks.”

She didn’t reply, just stepped back as the final seconds of the waiting period ticked by.

Once enough time had passed for the residual frequency to dissipate, the acolyte leader gave the signal.

And one by one, they stepped through the fence and into the incursion.

****

A/N: Hey guy, just wanted to let you know if we reach top 60 of the golden ticket ranking or get up to 800 power stones there will be a mass release.

Thank you for the support so far it is really encouraging.

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