Chapter 123: Countdown

Planet Roca was divided into 234 cities, each organized into designated sectors that governed its administration, infrastructure, and population.

From sprawling commercial districts to towering residential complexes, every city played a role in sustaining one of the Astral Dominion’s vast interstellar hubs.

?Cassian Voss and his family resided in Sector Seven of New Rise City, one of the planet’s more prosperous metropolises.

Yet the cities represented only a fraction of Roca’s total landmass. Beyond their borders lay vast stretches of undeveloped territory where construction projects had stalled, settlements remained abandoned, and entire regions had yet to receive proper infrastructure.

?Such places rarely attracted attention from the authorities.

?Which made them the perfect hiding spots.

?Deep within one such wasteland, far from the nearest city and concealed beneath layers of solid bedrock, stood an underground facility with no official existence.

?Inside its central command chamber, a man wearing a grotesque skull mask stood before an enormous monitor.

Hundreds of live feeds displayed different locations across Planet Roca, each showing heavily armed mercenaries occupying streets, surrounding public buildings, or holding terrified civilians at gunpoint.

?The masked man watched the feeds with mounting contempt.

?"Pathetic fools."

?His voice echoed through the chamber, dripping with disgust and dark amusement.

?The mercenaries had been hired by the Crimson Reckoning, an organization that had promised them absurd compensation in exchange for participating in the largest coordinated terrorist operation in the planet’s history.

Their task was simple: seize designated locations, maintain physical control, and eliminate anyone who interfered.

?The money alone had been enough to buy their absolute loyalty.

?There had been no need to invent elaborate propaganda about fighting for the forgotten, defending the abandoned, or bringing justice to the oppressed.

Those were convenient lies used to recruit desperate fanatics who needed to believe their atrocities served some grand, noble purpose.

?These mercenaries needed money.

?The Crimson Reckoning needed bodies.

?It had been a delightfully straightforward transaction.

?Of course, once the operation reached its conclusion, the mercenaries would discover just how little their employers valued their lives.

?The entire planet was going to be annihilated.

?Every last one of those greedy idiots would perish alongside the civilians they had been paid to terrorize.

?The man chuckled softly behind his mask.

?The total destruction of Planet Roca would undoubtedly provoke widespread outrage throughout the Astral Dominion.

Millions would demand blood, and countless others would condemn the Dominion’s gross failure to protect its citizens.

The planetary government would face severe political pressure, public distrust, and damning accusations of incompetence.

?That backlash was inevitable.

?It was also exquisitely useful.

?While the brainless masses directed their hatred toward the Crimson Reckoning and the local Dominion authorities, the real masterminds would remain comfortably beyond their reach.

?The Arachnid Civilization had no intention of allowing the Dominion to discover its true objectives.

A planetary catastrophe would create the ultimate smoke screen, drawing all eyes toward a sensationalized terrorist attack while concealing the shadow operations that actually mattered.

?The Crimson Reckoning was merely a convenient pawn.

?A disposable front.

?And the mercenaries were even less than that.

?Behind the masked leader, a colossal machine dominated the subterranean chamber.

?It stretched from the reinforced floor to the high ceiling, its massive cylindrical body surrounded by interlocking metal rings and thick conduits that pulsed with a faint, ominous glow.

Heavy steel beams extended from its central frame into the surrounding walls, anchoring the machine to a network of shock-absorbing mechanisms buried deep within the earth.

?At its base, layers of armored plating enclosed a dense mechanical core. Above it, an immense assembly of rotating gears surrounded a narrow central column where concentrated energy crackled behind reinforced containment barriers.

?The entire structure hummed with a low vibration that made the floor tremble continuously.

?This was no ordinary weapon.

?It was a Worldbreaker Core, a forbidden siege engine engineered to unleash a runaway chain reaction capable of tearing a planet apart.

Once fully activated, its binary fusion process would multiply its energy output exponentially with every passing second, rapidly escalating beyond the capacity of any conventional containment system.

?The result would be an unstoppable catastrophe.

?One that even Ascendant Lords would struggle to survive if caught near the hypocenter when the reaction reached its terminal phase.

?And now, that catastrophe sat quietly beneath Planet Roca’s crust.

?The masked man tilted his head toward the humming machine.

?Everything had proceeded flawlessly so far. The mercenaries were holding their positions, the public broadcasts had been hijacked, and the planetary authorities were scrambling like headless insects.

?Soon, the Worldbreaker Core would complete its cycle.

?Soon, Planet Roca would cease to exist.

?Reaching up, the man slowly unlatched and removed his skull mask.

?Beneath it was a face that could never have belonged to a human.

?Its general structure was vaguely humanoid, featuring a narrow jaw and smooth, pale skin stretched tightly over an unnaturally angular skull.

Two dark mandibles protruded from either side of his mouth, their serrated edges clicking softly as they twitched.

They resembled the mandibles of a giant insect, capable of extending and retracting independently of his lips.

?His eyes were far worse.

?Eight glossy black eyes were arranged across his face in an unmistakably arachnid pattern.

Four smaller eyes formed a line above his brow, while the remaining four occupied positions along his cheekbones.

Each one reflected the chamber’s dim lighting like polished obsidian.

?The creature took a long, deep breath.

?"Ahh..."

?His broad shoulders relaxed.

?"Now I can breathe properly."

?He placed the mask on a nearby console and flexed his mandibles, savoring the relief of no longer having to wear a human skin suit.

?Humans were remarkably easy to deceive, but maintaining their soft, fleshy disguise for extended periods remained an irritating chore.

?He was about to turn his attention back to the Worldbreaker Core when an urgent communication signal chimed.

?A red notification flashed across the primary console screen.

?[INCOMING TRANSMISSION — ENTRANCE SECURITY]

?The creature frowned before slapping the receiver button. "What is it?"

?A soldier appeared on the display, wearing the same skull mask as the mercenaries deployed across the planet.

However, this one had been split open along the left side, exposing part of the creature’s true face beneath.

?Dark, viscous blood trickled down his pale cheek.

?"Sir!" the soldier screamed, panic lacing his voice. "We are under atta—"

?KRRZZZT!

?The transmission abruptly cut to static.

?The screen went black.

?For a few long seconds, absolute silence returned to the command chamber.

?The leader stared at the dead monitor, his eight eyes narrowing simultaneously.

?"Under attack?"

?His mandibles twitched erratically.

?That was impossible.

?He had personally overseen the security protocols surrounding this facility. The complex was deeply buried, its entrances heavily fortified, and its exact coordinates known only to a handful of high-ranking operatives.

?More importantly, the outer defense grid was designed to detect incoming hostiles miles before they could reach the perimeter.

?Yet the guard had barely managed to utter a sentence before being cut down.

?The creature’s multi-eyed gaze shifted toward the reinforced vault entrance.

?A cold, unnatural sensation crept up his spine.

?Something was horribly wrong.

....

Author’s Note: Quick question for you guys, should I start naming some of the summons? Not all of them, but maybe the commanders and special elites?

Honestly, I usually avoid it because I suck at naming things, but... a little cas... I mean, incentive... could definitely motivate me ^_^