Awakening a 10,000x Skill Proficiency Multiplier in the Apocalypse Chapter 107: [107]: The Usurper’s Move, A Transactional Deal

Sebastian let out a tired sigh. "Let guess. You need sobody murdered."

"Oh, absolutely," Gwen grinned, turning and gesturing for him to follow her deeper into the slums. "Co on, glitch. Let’s go talk business."

Gwen’s safehouse wasn’t exactly the Ritz. It was a heavily reinforced bunker buried beneath the rusted, dripping pipes of the outpost’s water reclamation sector.

The heavy steel blast doors locking behind them offered a comforting sense of absolute isolation.

Sebastian imdiately collapsed onto a cracked leather couch in the center of the room.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the cushions.

His physical condition was deteriorating rapidly. The green wirefra polygons of the Void Toxicity were now actively chewing their way up his neck. His vision was swimming with aggressive error codes, and his breathing sounded like a broken accordion.

[Status Update: Base File Corruption at 25%.]

"You really don’t have much ti, do you?" Gwen noted, tossing her heavy trench coat onto a nearby tal chair.

She walked over to a small kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of generic, clear liquid, tossing it to him. "Drink that. It won’t cure you, but it’ll numb the rendering pain."

Sebastian caught the bottle with his one good hand. He popped the cap with his teeth and took a long drag. It tasted like industrial cleaner, but the sharp burn distracted his brain from the feeling of his code unraveling.

"So," Sebastian rasped, wiping his mouth. "Filters. Where are they, and who do I have to delete to get them?"

Gwen leaned against a heavily scarred tactical table, crossing her arms. Her expression turned grim and serious.

"My faction is called the Iron Wraiths," Gwen started, her voice tight. "We run smuggling routes through the Juncture. My ntor was the faction leader. His na was Jax."

"Was," Sebastian noted clinically.

"He was assassinated three hours ago," Gwen spat, her eyes flashing with pure rage. "His throat was cut while he was logging data in his personal quarters. It was an inside job."

"And let guess," Sebastian sighed, resting his heavy boots on a nearby crate. "The guy who ordered the hit is currently sitting in the boss’s chair."

"My Uncle Jared," Gwen confird, her jaw clenching. "He’s staging a violent coup. He didn’t just kill Jax. He sold our entire smuggling operation out to the Onyx Syndicate."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Onyx Syndicate. Sounds like a bunch of try hard edgelords."

"They are a major Warlord faction," Gwen corrected sharply. "They run the black market in the upper sectors. Jared traded our independence for a cushy executive seat at their table. Right now, he’s holed up in our central boardroom, flanked by Onyx guards, finalizing the takeover."

"Tragic," Sebastian said deadpan, his voice entirely devoid of empathy. He didn’t care about the family drama. He cared about his health bar. "Where do the filters co in?"

"The central vault," Gwen explained. "Jax kept a stash of premium Server Filters for ergencies. Jared holds the access keys now. He’s locked the vault down until the Syndicate officially takes over."

Sebastian processed the logistics. It was a simple math equation.

"Okay," Sebastian said, slowly pushing himself up from the couch. His joints popped loudly, the sound echoing in the bunker. "Here is the deal, Gwen. I don’t care about your uncle. I don’t care about your faction politics. I am a businessman, and I need a product."

He locked his pitch black, emotionless eyes onto hers.

"I will walk into that boardroom. I will butcher Jared. I will completely dismantle every single mber of the Onyx Syndicate standing in my way. I will hand you the keys to your faction. In exchange, you open the vault, and you give the filters. A clean, transactional arrangent."

Gwen stared at him. She looked at his ragged, blood stained coat. She looked at his heavily glitching arm. She looked at a man who appeared to be seconds away from a catastrophic system crash.

She let out a harsh, skeptical laugh.

"Are you out of your mind?" Gwen asked, shaking her head. "Jared is sitting in a room with four Tier 8 Mages from the Syndicate. The hallway is guarded by heavy borgs. You look like you’re going to die if you sneeze too hard. You can’t take them alone!"

Sebastian didn’t argue. He didn’t try to reassure her with words. He decided to give her a small, terrifying demonstration of the Sovereign’s authority.

He didn’t use magic. He didn’t pull out a sword. He just looked at the heavy steel chair Gwen had tossed her coat onto.

He accessed his green Admin UI, pulling on the Code Compiler.

"Observe," Sebastian whispered.

He highlighted the geotric rendering code of the steel chair in his mind. And he simply deleted the concept of structural integrity.

POP!

The heavy steel chair didn’t break. It didn’t lt. It instantly, violently collapsed into a pile of fine, grey dust on the floor. It was a flawless, terrifying erasure of physical matter.

Gwen flinched violently, her hands instinctively dropping to her pistols. She stared at the pile of dust, her eyes wide with absolute horror. She slowly looked back up at the ragged, glitching man on her couch.

"What the fuck was that?" she breathed, her voice trembling. "That wasn’t a spell."

"That was being polite," Sebastian said coldly. He stood up, adjusting his collar. "I am not a player, Gwen. I am a walking system error. And right now, your uncle is a bug I need to squash so I can get my dication."

He stepped toward the heavy blast doors.

"Do we have a deal?" Sebastian asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Gwen swallowed hard. The skepticism was completely gone, replaced by the profound realization that she had just invited a monster into her ho.

She gave a slow, firm nod. "We have a deal. Butcher them."

Sebastian smiled. It was a dark, ruthless expression.

"Lead the way, Seattle. Let’s go clean house."