Chapter Forty: Breaking into a Private Residence at Night

The third operation of the Goddess of Ix has begun.

This time, Lamia insisted on coming along, and Le Gang specially approved her request. Salvador was still eager to join, but I managed to refuse him with a mix of coaxing and half-truths.

The team for this mission consisted of me, Lamia, Solace, Wastebell, and Le Gang.

The siblings had not received ranger training; their marksmanship was poor and they were not adept with ranger equipment, but their physical strength and endurance far surpassed ordinary people by dozens of times, and Lamia trusted my judgment.

Solace and Wastebell had adopted the Jade Pool’s training methods and now managed to halve the negative effects of Netherfire. Lamia showed them great tolerance, though she occasionally felt they might stab us in the back.

We traveled along the streets of Old San Francisco, marching by day and resting at night. Given that the undead were extremely sensitive to sunlight, they wore specially designed ranger light armor, revealing only their lips. They felt fine, being able to withstand both bitter cold and scorching heat.

As for Le Gang? He remained underground, following us like a mole, his schedule opposite to ours, yet he always managed to keep up. I had no idea why he chose to come along—perhaps he simply wanted to get out for a while.

The Transamerica Pyramid was also a skyscraper, about 240 meters tall, once a part of the ancient San Francisco skyline. Faga had said that its original design caused great controversy; people considered it ominous, resembling an Indian totem or a voodoo artifact. When I looked at its photograph, I found it harmless compared to the Black Coffin—a mere elder, gentle and benign.

According to records, the building underwent renovation in 2033, transforming from high-end offices into a jumble of small companies, encouraging emerging startups to move in. The Epoch Antiquities Auction House was one such online antique trading company.

Faga gave me another task: within the Transamerica Pyramid was a relay station, an ancient device for long-distance communication. Though the equipment was shut down, its advanced craftsmanship might allow it to be reactivated. She hoped we could start it up, so she could contact and assist us, even if only for a short time.

Faga always spoke in esoteric terms that I only half understood, but the task sounded simple enough—find the switch underground, flip it on, and wait for her arrival.

The city center was still a kingdom where green plants intertwined with steel and concrete. According to the map, it took us half a day to reach the Transamerica Pyramid. Once among the most famous skyscrapers of old San Francisco, now its era was long past.

Cracks covered its surface, colors dulled, vines wrapped inside and out, dust and air drifted through shattered glass in the corridors. The western side had collapsed inward, making it resemble a crippled, lonely elder or a broken mummy.

Lamia said, “We need to wait for Marquis Le Gang and follow his instructions.”

I replied, “That means waiting until nightfall, which would put us in direct conflict with demons—if there are really any inside.”

She sighed, “True, but you know the Marquis’s strength. With him, no matter how many demons there are, we should reach the top safely.”

We found a small shop two hundred meters from the Pyramid. It was relatively clean, with few plants, though of course the food was inedible.

Lamia sat beside me, while the siblings sat far off. Lamia leaned against my shoulder as I stroked her perfect cheek, showering them with displays of affection they ignored, absorbed in their own conversation.

She laughed, “That’s the downside of couples acting together—we’re always distracted.”

I said, “Distracted? I’m very focused—on loving my wife.”

She teased, “Didn’t you once say talking about happiness during dangerous times shortens your life?”

I replied, “I have a halo, I’m not afraid.”

She asked, “What kind of halo?”

I said, “The protagonist’s halo.”

She burst out laughing. “What’s that?”

Of course, I couldn’t explain—it was just an old saying.

She grew quiet in my arms, then whispered, “I’m considering having another surgery.”

Surprised, I asked what kind. She answered softly, “You know…to restore the organs I should have. I want to give you a child.”

“I don’t care about that at all,” I said.

She gave a bitter smile, “But I’m your wife and I can’t make you truly happy. I always feel I owe you.”

“You already make me incredibly happy,” I replied.

She laughed, “But there’s always some regret, isn’t there?”

“That’s easy to make up for,” I teased. “With other body parts…”

She frowned, “Which body parts? My hands?”

I chuckled, “That’s fine too, as long as you want…”

She playfully pummeled me with her small fists.

I asked, “Are there any risks to the surgery?”

She said, “It might reduce my combat ability a bit.”

I kissed her. “I’ll make sure you never have to fight or suffer again.”

She smiled, “Your words always make me happy.”

“And you make me happy too,” I replied, earning another inexplicable punch.

I held her tight, letting my mind wander to dreams of a child-filled future with her, then quickly banished the thought—protagonist or not, it was unwise to tempt fate.

A few stone tiles on the floor parted, and I saw someone rise from the earth like unset cement. Once solidified, Le Gang appeared, fully dressed—did he change clothes at lightning speed during his transformation?

Lamia hurriedly pulled me to attention. “Sir!”

Le Gang nodded to us. “Let’s go in.”

Lamia pointed to her watch. “The sensors are picking up demons nearby.”

He apologized for making us wait and assured us he’d take care of it. Sinking back into the ground, I watched from the window as he moved beneath us. Each time he surfaced, he became a black wolf, tearing out demon throats like skewers, snapping their spines like twigs.

He killed demons as easily as demons killed children—far stronger than Bella, and I couldn’t tell if he or Vasilisa was more powerful.

The dozen or so demons nearby never even sensed the hunter’s presence—they were all dead. Wastebell and Solace were both deeply shaken; even the undead, faced with true monsters, would tremble.

Le Gang returned and said, “Let’s go. I have a feeling trouble awaits us inside, and I only have the night.”

I exclaimed, “Sir, your performance was truly awe-inspiring!”

He replied, “It’s nothing to praise. I merely used the right tactics—when the strategy is correct, everything becomes easy, even the weak can defeat the strong. A direct confrontation would be much uglier. That’s why we rangers study demons in the first place.”

“Words of wisdom!” I said, scribbling nonsense in my notebook. If he’d looked, he’d be disappointed, but he didn’t—he just headed straight for the building.

Lamia pinched my cheek, laughing, “Le Gang isn’t one for flattery.”

“He’s secretly pleased,” I whispered. “He loves it inside.”

We passed through the triangular lattice corridors of the Pyramid, entering the main hall. Plants sprawled, climbed, tangled, and hung from everything.

Did you see those stairs? The banisters on both sides had become curtains of vines, their surfaces slick with moss. The chandeliers above were now giant hanging baskets of flowers. The dried-up fountain brimmed with red blooms and green leaves, and towering catalpa and camphor trees grew all the way to the ceiling.

But the flesh of these plants was inedible for humans—perhaps they even fed on the corpses of the past. I spotted blackberries among them, but I no longer needed to gather them. For some unknown reason, blackberries now appeared directly from the hands of Radiance, making potion mixing much easier.

Lamia drew out Gungnir, I readied my sniper rifle, and we hid in the dark.

Le Gang went to the elevator, pressed a few buttons—nothing happened.

“The auction house is on the fortieth floor,” I whispered.

“Then we use the stairs,” he said.

Lamia checked her watch—no demons detected. Le Gang said, “No need to look. It only senses the most basic types. This skyscraper is unusual—let’s avoid disturbing its residents.”

We headed for the fire stairs. The door groaned as we opened it, and Le Gang insisted on leading the way.

“Be careful of traps—it could get tricky,” I cautioned.

In buildings like this, the lower floors might be home to bandits or scavengers who would set up defenses. I would do the same. Demons, simple-minded as they are, often give up when faced with obstacles.

Aside from our soft footsteps, the dark corridor was silent, the scent of plants mixed with the familiar stench of rot—a common smell for city scavengers like me.

I kept Faga’s mission in mind, but it was best not to complicate things for now.

Suddenly, a light flickered above, briefly illuminating the corridor. I saw that both sides were barricaded with overturned desks and chairs, behind which many armed people waited, their breaths barely audible.

Perhaps we’d awakened them the moment we opened the fire door. From their appearance, it wasn’t clear whether they were killers or simply survivors. But they had guns, and our situation was precarious.

Le Gang raised his hands, his blue eyes calmly scanning side to side. “We don’t want any trouble.”

They began coughing nervously, one triggering another—a chain reaction, or perhaps a sign of their health, weakened by the wasteland air. A man with a goatee shouted, “Then why are you breaking in at night? You must be up to no good!”

Le Gang replied, “We’re only headed to the fortieth floor. Sorry if we disturbed your sleep.”

I drank Odin’s Eye and sensed at least a hundred people on this floor and about as many above—many lived here. Where did they get their food?

Goatee barked, “Drop your guns and your food, and get out of here! If you don’t, I’ll blow your brains out!”

The lights flashed again. I saw these ambushers chewing on dried mushrooms.

I knew those mushrooms well—far too well. The mushrooms from Waterless Village had a unique shape I’d never seen anywhere else, not in any place or picture book.

Except here, now.