Chapter 167

An impromptu barricade, cobbled together from overturned desks and random office debris, choked the wide corridor. Four soldiers stood guard behind it, eyes peeled and rifles leveled. Every one of them was stuffed into a clunky, outdated Armed Suit.

"Good grief... At this rate, I wouldn't be blamed for a few casualties, but the President’s going to have my head if I go overboard."

Phantom grumbled to himself, back pressed against the wall at the corner facing the barricade. He’d already shoved Olivia into a nearby room he’d cleared for safety; finally, he was free to engage in a little solo tactical violence.

"Your reaction time is slipping, Mr. Antonio. Keep this up and you won't have any subordinates left."

Phantom flipped open his gun’s cylinder, plucked out two of the non-lethal Rubber Bullets, and replaced them with the heavy-duty metal of Full Metal Jackets.

"Well then. Shall we?"

With a soft mutter, Phantom lunged into the hallway. The four soldiers reacted instantly, their muzzles swiveling toward him.

[MICRO BISHOP: INSTANT ACTIVATION]

A spark of electricity surged through his mind. The BISHOP Control Device implanted in Phantom’s brain fired up, instantly harvesting every Probability Particle in the vicinity. The BISHOP’s Future Prediction data flooded his consciousness, layering a distorted vision of what was and what would be over his sight.

First, that thing’s in the way.

The world slowed to a crawl. Using his forward momentum, Phantom sprinted toward the wall, kicked off the surface to gain altitude, and leveled his gun mid-air.

[BALLISTIC CALCULATION: ACCELERATE... OPTIMIZATION]

As casually as one might pick up a book from a desk—without a shred of doubt or hesitation—he squeezed the trigger. The bullet spiraled from the muzzle with surgical precision, screaming toward the Sentry Gun mounted on the barricade.

Next, the heavy hitter.

He picked his next target: the man clutching a machine gun. Just as he began to drift his sights toward the soldier, his first bullet slammed into the Sentry Gun’s drive mechanism. Metal shrieked against metal, sparks geysered, and crumpled gears flew in every direction.

[THREAT MANIFESTATION: 2 LOCATIONS]

[THREAT JUDGMENT: 0]

Muzzle flashes erupted from the enemy line as a hail of bullets tore toward Phantom. He didn't blink. Between the position of their barrels and the BISHOP’s telemetry, he knew exactly where the lead was headed. He pulled the trigger again without a care in the world.

The rest of these guys... I’d hate to waste the ammo.

He could have disarmed them and stolen their gear, but he preferred his own kit. Since he hadn't packed many Rubber Bullets, he figured he should start being frugal. Phantom twisted his body mid-landing to adjust his trajectory, watching with grim satisfaction as the enemy’s machine gun was reduced to scrap metal.

[THREAT JUDGMENT: 2]

Rounds from the enemies' assault rifles zipped past his ears, one after another. Phantom coolly read the trajectories of the two bullets flagged as genuine threats. He dodged the first with a simple tilt of his head; the second he swatted out of the air with his hand—specifically, with a glove made of a specialized material that hardened instantly upon impact.

[THREAT CONVERGENCE: STABLE]

As he performed a second leap, the BISHOP confirmed that the enemies were no longer a threat. Given their current muzzle positions and the inherent limits of human reaction speed, the system calculated that it was mathematically impossible for them to get Phantom in their sights again.

"Don't take it personally."

Phantom touched down on the far side of the barricade. He muttered the phrase just before shoving one soldier aside. The man went spinning down the hallway like a human top, shedding gear and equipment everywhere before collapsing into a motionless heap. Phantom turned his gaze toward the remaining three, who looked like the physical embodiment of despair, and flashed them a smile.

"You’ve got Flashbangs, right? Those are handy, so leave them here. I don't need the rest of your junk, so please, beat it."

The men obeyed, trembling as they fumbled with their gear. Phantom watched them scramble away, tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape, and let out a long sigh. Having people who usually fought the WIND look at him like he was a literal monster didn't exactly do wonders for his ego.

"…Hmm. Finally cut the air conditioning, have they? Compared to fighting the Empire’s Land Combat units, this is a walk in the park."

The hum of the ventilation died, replaced by a silence so heavy it made his ears ring. Phantom, satisfied that the stage was set, headed back to the room where he’d stashed Olivia.

Soon, the geothermal heat would turn this place into a literal oven that no human could enter, but that went for the enemy too. It was the perfect place to drop off the grid for a while. He’d already trashed the sensors, and soon, there wouldn't be anyone left alive to come fix them.

"English, huh? Koume’s data bank has a few scraps, but nothing this linguistically complex," Koume said, peering curiously at a metal plate while steering with one hand.

Marl leaned over for a better look. "Then that settles it."

"Settles what?" Teiro asked.

"This isn't Earth. Or at least, the odds are astronomical that it is. It would be pretty weird to find English signs on some random alien rock."

"See? Told ya so!" Teiro said, puffing out his chest. "I’m almost certain of it. Since it’s called a 'Museum,' we might find some old data logs or something from the era."

"True, that is a bit exciting... But if this has been here since before the Empire was founded, we’re talking nearly five thousand years, right? I wonder if the data’s been tampered with."

"Tampered with? No way, Marl-tan. This is a Ruin. Shouldn't everything be exactly how they left it?"

Teiro tilted his head in confusion. Marl gave him a flat look, sighed, and then pointed at the plate.

"Unfortunately, I don't think so. Look at this. It's brand new."

Marl took the plate from Koume and ran a finger over it.

"It’s diamond-coated for corrosion resistance. And there’s Polarized Paint underneath. See? The color shifts when you tilt it."

As Marl toyed with the metal, the dull gray surface shimmered, shifting smoothly between dark and light tones.

"Oh, that’s cool... Wait, so it’s a modern replica?"

"The tech is modern, at least. The process for applying a diamond coat directly over Polarized Paint was perfected... let's see... uh..."

"Approximately 552 years ago, Miss Marl," Koume provided. "A corporation in the O-Ram Star System cracked the code. They’re still a major player today."

"Right, thanks. So, this was made about five hundred years ago, tops. There’s a slim chance it was a 'technological rediscovery,' but that’s a bit of a stretch."

Marl looked almost apologetic. Teiro gave a noncommittal "Roger that" and stared at the plate, trying to make the math work.

"So what, did NASA just mess up? They saw some stuff in a Museum and assumed the whole building was ancient? That’s a hell of a punchline... But then how do you explain the text? English is a dead language, right? How’d they even know how to make this?"

As Teiro brooded over the plate, Koume raised a hand. "Perhaps they simply kept it as-is, Mr. Teiro?"

"As-is? How does that explain anything?"

"Think about it, Mr. Teiro. You frequently play those fantasy-themed computer games, don't you? The ones with the... er, 'suggestive' content."

"Hey! Yeah, I play 'em, so what? Did you have to add that last part? Miss Marl is looking at me like I’m a pile of radioactive sludge!"

"Well," Koume continued, "if you found a legendary ancient stone tablet in one of those games, and the text was written in Galactic Standard Language, what would you think?"

"Hah! I’d probably just ignore it and—... Oh. I get it. They used it for the 'vibe.' Like, they didn't know what the words meant, but they figured, 'Hey, this looks like a cool nameplate for an entrance!'"

"It is merely a hypothesis, Mr. Teiro. But it is within the realm of possibility."

"Hey, as long as it isn't impossible, I'll take it... Still, a Museum, huh? Given the history, maybe it just got buried during an airstrike? Or wait—if it’s still intact, maybe it was always an Underground Facility?"

"Could be," Marl said, shrugging. "But don't look so down, Teiro. I actually think this is a lucky break."

"Oh? Enlighten me, Marl-tan."

Marl rolled her eyes at his serious face. "Think about it. It’s a Museum. That means all the history and info from that era has already been neatly summarized and curated for us. Sure, finding a 4,000-year-old Ruin frozen in time sounds great, but we don't have the time or the budget for a full-scale archaeological dig."

"Ah, I see. Yeah, we can't exactly spend weeks dusting off pottery while people are shooting at us... And since it’s in a museum, it means the people who lived in Nuke already did the legwork and verified the artifacts, right?"

"Exactly. We don't know the first thing about Nuke’s history. Trying to play archaeologist on our own would be a disaster."

"I see, I see! So instead of a dud, we hit the jackpot!"

"Fufu, exactly," Marl said with a hopeful smile. "But let's not jump to conclusions based on one piece of metal. We need to investigate further."

Teiro grinned back and raised a clenched fist toward the two of them. Koume and Marl stared at it blankly for a few beats before realizing it was a prompt for a fist bump. They joined their knuckles to his.

"Yeah, let’s do this! We’re closer to Earth than we've ever been!"

"Koume agrees, Miss Marl. And Mr. Teiro—this is what the humans call a 'big chance.'"

"You bet it is! Alright, let’s get fired up!! Rising Sun!! Fight on!!"

Teiro thrust his hand into the air with a passionate shout.

The other two just stared at him with dead eyes.

"Yeah, we've never done that before," Marl said flatly. "You can't just spring a 'team cheer' on us and expect us to follow along."

Hand still frozen in the air, Teiro’s face turned bright red. He slowly shriveled back into his seat. "Right. My bad..."

Wait. Who’s the protagonist of this story again?