Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Three Threads of Fate and the Escape Map

The concrete floor of the secret bunker beneath Master Dalgor’s workshop felt ice-cold, yet it was nothing compared to the chill of dread creeping up Dayat’s neck. The room was stifling, illuminated only by a single, flickering mana lamp and the sharp, pungent scent of machine oil. Dayat paced restlessly among piles of scrap metal, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Dol, don’t die on me… don’t get caught…” Dayat muttered repeatedly, like a desperate mantra.

Suddenly, the screech of secret hinges echoed from behind the tool cabinet. Dayat lunged for his Crossbow, aiming blindly into the darkness.

“Do not fire, Master. It is I.”

Dayat nearly dropped his weapon when he saw Dola step into the light. She no longer looked like the elegant blue bride from Alaric’s gala. Her gown was in tatters, scorched in multiple places, and her face was masked by dust and thick, crimson stains.

“Dola!” Dayat surged forward, catching her body just before she collapsed.

Dalgor, who had been leaning against a pillar puffing on his tobacco pipe, rushed over. “Hell’s bells! What happened up there? The entire city guard has been mobilized!”

Dayat didn’t hear him. His eyes were locked on Dola’s left shoulder, exposed by the torn fabric. Behind the skin blistered by Valmir’s fireball lay a sight that made Dayat’s heart skip a beat.

It wasn’t just circuits and wires. Dayat saw fresh, red muscle fibers, pulsing veins, and white bone. But woven through that biological tapestry were gleaming silver metal fibers and microscopic carbon armor plates fused directly into her spine.

“You’re… you’re bleeding, Dol?” Dayat whispered, his finger trembling as he reached toward the wound.

“Self-repair protocols are currently active, Master,” Dola’s voice sounded slightly deeper, with a faint static glitch in her tone. “Eighty-five percent of my tissues are biological to maintain the efficiency of your Mana conduction. The remaining fifteen percent is reinforcement structure. I… I am functional.”

A surge of pure rage burned in Dayat’s chest. He didn’t care if Dola was human, robot, or something in between. He only knew his wife was in pain. “Valmir will pay for this. I swear it.”

Dalgor let out a long breath, a thick cloud of smoke billowing from his pipe. “Listen, Young Engineer. You’re now Count Alaric’s number one enemy. He’s locked down every city gate. The guards are equipped with Level 5 Mana Detection Crystals. You’re trapped here like rats in a bottle.”

Dola stood tall, gently releasing Dayat’s grip. Her dimming eyes suddenly flared with sharp blue light. The neon ring at her temple spun at high speed.

“We are not trapped, Master Dalgor,” Dola said firmly. “We are simply waiting for the optimal path to open.”

Dola walked toward the large table in the center of the bunker. She pressed her palm onto the wooden surface, and instantly, a blue holographic projection erupted, mapping the entire city of Bakasa in three dimensions.

Dalgor’s eyes widened. “How did you… you hacked the city’s security grid?”

“While I was running, I injected code into every street-side mana lamp I passed,” Dola replied flatly. “Those lamps are connected to the central network. Currently, I hold control over 40% of the city’s surveillance sensors.”

Dola pointed to three glowing routes on the hologram.

“Master Dayat, we cannot run without a plan. Based on an analysis of Alaric’s forces and Valmir’s betrayal, I have formulated three escape scenarios: Plans A, B, and C.”

Dayat stepped closer, studying the map with grim intensity. “Give me the details.”

“Plan A: The Shadow Path.” Dola highlighted a route through sewers even deeper than those known by Kancil. “Success probability: 75%. We use the alchemical waste tunnels to exit toward the Delta Sector forest. Advantage: Zero physical contact with guards. Disadvantage: We must discard all metal equipment as the waste acid is highly corrosive. We would emerge unarmed and without clothing.”

Dayat shook his head. “In the Delta forest? Without weapons? That’s suicide. Next. Plan B?”

“Plan B: The People’s Shield.” Dola shifted the route color to yellow. “We incite a riot in the Slum District using your reputation as the ’Savior Engineer.’ The citizens will blockade the streets, providing us a window to slip through the logistics gate. Success probability: 60%. Disadvantage: High civilian casualties. Alaric will slaughter them to get to us.”

Dayat’s expression hardened. “No. I’m not sacrificing the people who gave me free apples. Continue. Plan C.”

Dola paused. The light in her eyes flickered erratically, as if she were hesitant to speak.

“Plan C: The Brute Breakthrough.” Dola’s voice dropped low. “Success probability: 30%… however, it rises to 90% if we possess a Railgun.”

Dalgor choked on his pipe smoke. “A Rail-what? That ancient fortress-level weapon?”

“Affirmative,” Dola continued. “We do not run and hide. Instead, we demolish Bakasa’s Main Gate from the inside. The resulting chaos will paralyze the city’s defense systems for exactly 15 minutes—long enough for us to escape using the fastest carriage available. The problem is…”

Dola looked deep into Dayat’s eyes. “A Railgun requires a barrel conductor made of Pure Mithril to ensure your Mana energy doesn’t explode in your hands like the RPG-7 incident. Without it, Plan C is a suicide mission.”

Dayat looked at his hand, still bandaged from the previous burns. He remembered how powerless he felt when that RPG blew up. He remembered Valmir mocking him as a “lucky sewer rat.”

“We’re going with Plan C,” Dayat said, his voice low and laced with iron resolve.

“Master, pure Mithril is exceedingly rare,” Dola warned. “My data shows Alaric keeps a reserve of Mithril in his private vault within the Military Sector. To take it, we must infiltrate the heart of the enemy’s power before we flee.”

“Didn’t you say you hacked the city grid?” Dayat smirked. “Use that to guide me. We need that component, Dol. Not just to escape, but to show Alaric he picked the wrong opponent.”

Dalgor slammed his fist on the table. “You’re mad, lad! But it’s the kind of madness I like. If you can build that Railgun, I’ll provide the carriage and supplies. But remember, if you fail, I never knew you!”

“Deal,” Dayat replied curtly.

Dola stared at Dayat. A strange flash of emotion crossed her eyes—a mix of pride and concern. “Protocol: The Brute Breakthrough initiated. Commencing task distribution. Master Dayat, prepare your body and mind for high-level energy manifestation. Master Dalgor, I require access to your steam lathe to process the base materials.”

Dola leaned in toward Dayat, whispering something only he could hear.

“Master… on the route to the Mithril vault, we may encounter Valmir again. He now knows part of my identity. If he speaks to the Church…”

“He won’t get the chance to speak,” Dayat interrupted, gripping Dola’s shoulder. “I promise.”

Night deepened over Bakasa, but for the three of them, the sun was about to rise in the middle of a storm. The holographic map on the table continued to spin, marking the red targets in the military warehouse they were about to storm.

Dayat knew that from tomorrow on, he was no longer just a scavenger or an adventurer. He was a rebel, bringing doomsday technology to a world that had rejected progress.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep