Two Wrongs Make a Right Ch.39

Without heavy industrial machinery, unloading a fully sized cargo freighter proved to be significantly more complicated and time-consuming than I initially expected, and that was taking the villagers exceptional strength into consideration. The containers need to be emptied individually, their contents manually transferred to storage. Probably another week minimum, and that's being optimistic. At least the roads and the new vehicles made transportation a lot easier.

With Pod's help, we could design, build, and install a pulley system structure to help unload the containers at the top. It was good foresight on my part to manipulate the cargo manifest to ensure loading order placed the heaviest and largest items at the bottom of the stacks. That should be common sense in shipping logistics, but one can never be too certain that everyone shares the same line of thought.

Either way, the operation is progressing at a steady, manageable rate. Soon we'll sail the vessel to Mistral and abandon it there with the crew intact. They're completely convinced opportunistic Mistralian pirates hijacked them—which is exactly the cover story we need. No Atlas military interest triggered, just another unfortunate maritime cargo theft.

Once that's handled and we have all these construction materials secured, we'll finally be able to begin full-scale construction of all the planned facilities—the refinery, the advanced forge and so on and on.

In the meantime, I'm occupied with another matter entirely.

I'm currently in my office.

My real office is a cozy place; I mean the office at my manor, not the one at White Fang headquarters. And this time I'm not alone. Ilia is sitting comfortably on my lap, both of us focused intently on the large screen displaying the aftermath of the attack on the SDC outpost.

The Albain brothers pulled off the attack flawlessly. Because from the hacked communication channels we've been able to gather that the attack was called an unfortunate Grimm swarm incident. And there are no survivors to contradict that narrative.

But most importantly, they obtained juicy information in the attack; the precise location of an SDC mining town in Mistral. Much to my satisfaction, it's situated well outside Spider clan territory. So there won’t be issues with Lil Miss and more likely she can even give us information because that would affect the rival families.

"Are we going to attack that town?" Ilia asks, her hand resting on my arm as she leans slightly forward to get a better view of the new map displayed on screen.

I look up from the data, rubbing my chin thoughtfully.

Attacking the mining town is definitely in my plans, especially the part about liberating the mining equipment, salvage infrastructure, and most importantly, the Faunus workers being exploited there, the humans as well if there are any. 

But I currently lack intelligence about the facility's defensive capabilities, personnel numbers and quality, operational schedules, and firepower. Launching a frontal assault immediately would be reckless and stupid.

The timing is particularly complicated now. Since their outpost was wiped out, the town's overseer will probably investigate the incident and temporarily increase security measures. They'll probably be expecting potential follow-up attacks from the nonexistent Grimm swarm that supposedly wiped out their forward position.

However, the outpost garrison had no chance to fire back or send a distress signal. That means that so far, the company has launched no investigation or dispatched reinforcements to the area, so it's safe to assume they simply filed an internal report claiming the outpost was overwhelmed by Grimm—which is always a convenient bureaucratic excuse for any unexplained loss that also allows them to file insurance claims.

"Not immediately," I finally respond. "I'll send Trifa to infiltrate the town now that we have its location. She'll gather all the intel we need like guard rotation schedules, security specifications, population, mining operation timetables, supply chain logistics, defensive positions, and much more."

Ilia shifts slightly on my lap, turning to look at me with those grey eyes. "Just Trifa alone?"

"She's more than capable for this type of operation, and honestly, a single skilled operative is actually safer than deploying a full undercover team," I explain patiently. "More people increase the risk of detection exponentially. Don't forget that Trifa particularly excels at undercover missions and intelligence gathering—it's her specialty."

And she has the shared defenses which makes her disguises much better than before.

"And once she's successfully inside?" 

"Information gathering remains the absolute primary objective, but if opportunities for sabotage present themselves without compromising her cover, she's allowed to act. Disable equipment, delete data logs, mysterious supply losses—anything that weakens SDC forces."

Ilia frowns slightly, concern creasing her features. "But wouldn't sabotage actions agitate the local population? If conditions deteriorate further, the workers always suffer most from the consequences."

"That's precisely why her sabotage targets are strictly limited to military and security infrastructure," I clarify firmly, appreciating her concern for our people. "She won't attempt to agitate the civilian population directly—I absolutely won't risk their lives pointlessly for meager tactical gains."

I pause, allowing old memories to surface briefly. "The people trapped in those mining facilities typically have profoundly broken spirits and broken bodies after years of systematic exploitation. Decades of oppression and abuse have psychologically conditioned them to accept their horrific circumstances as inevitable and unchangeable. Or mercy at worst."

I remember my own experiences as a child laborer before Ghira found me and gave me a real life. Back then, my entire existence was reduced to a brutally simple cycle: work until complete physical exhaustion, eat whatever scraps were provided, sleep in whatever corner was available, then repeat the process. Every single day, an endless dehumanizing loop where dying from exhaustion or preventable workplace accidents became the only realistic escape. I remember how the other workers just stood there and watched silently when the human overseer burned my face.

"Don't forget, Ilia," I continue, "causing significant negativity, fear, and despair in a concentrated area will inevitably attract Grimm. The SDC understands this fundamental fact, which is actually another advantage for us. All their defensive equipment, training and security infrastructure is specifically designed and strategically positioned to combat Grimm threats or riots, not coordinated military assaults."

Understanding visibly crosses my girlfriend's features. "So when we do finally attack with full force, they won't be capable of mounting effective resistance against us."

"Exactly."

Ilia nods slowly. " So, how long will that take?"

"Depends entirely on how quickly she can establish a cover and insert herself into the town," I reply honestly. "Could be a matter of days if conditions are favorable, could be a couple of weeks at worst. But this cannot be rushed, one mistake and we lose not just an opportunity, but we put everyone in that town in danger."

"And if she's discovered?"

Highly unlikely given all the defenses and her experience, but it doesn’t hurt to have a Plan B.

"I trust she'll have developed her own escape methods, I won’t be micromanaging everything my people do," I respond confidently. "Ilia, have some trust, don't forget she was part of the sabotage mission months ago leading three teams. In the worst-case scenario, she can fight her way out and then make a run for it."

That might sound overly simple, but I also have the portal system as an absolute last resort. I could deploy there within seconds to help her escape, but the fewer people know that the better so that will only be used if she is about to be killed and has no way to escape.

Ilia leans back against me slightly, her posture relaxing as she seems somewhat reassured by my explanation. "Okay, Adam. I guess I was worrying over nothing. But you absolutely have to let me join the actual assault when it happens."

"As if that was ever in doubt," I chuckle warmly, my hand moving up to ruffle her hair affectionately, making her giggle despite herself.

"Stop that," she protests with no real conviction, playfully punching my chest with no force behind it.

"You provoked me first," I counter with a slight smirk.

"As if!" She mocks exaggerated offense, her freckles taking on a distinctly pink tone across her cheeks.

Well, since she wants to play that game…

Without warning, I lean forward and give her a quick peck on the lips.

Ilia freezes completely, her eyes widening in surprise before her entire face flushes a deeper shade of pink. A bashful smile slowly spreads as she returns my gaze.

"That's... that's not fair," she stammers slightly, her usual confidence momentarily derailed.

Before she can fully recover, I reach up with both hands and smoothly pull down her hair tie, freeing her long brown hair. It cascades down around her shoulders and frames her face beautifully, the strands catching the light.

"Hey!" Ilia protests immediately, her hands moving up reflexively toward her now-loose hair. "I had that tied up for a reason! It gets in the way when—"

"You're really beautiful with your hair down." I interrupt.

It's not a lie. She is very beautiful with her hair down, why does she tie her hair most of the time? The sight even takes my breath away for a moment.

Naturally the faunus girl freezes completely, her words dying in her throat. Her entire body shifts to a completely pink hue. But despite the obvious embarrassment, the smile on her face remains.

"I... you..." she stammers, completely flustered now, scratching her cheek self-consciously, averting her gaze. "You can't just... say things like that out of nowhere..."

She says that but she is smiling and how her fingers gently touch her loose hair as if seeing it differently now.

Eventually, Ilia hops off from my lap, though her skin is still showing traces of pink. She turns to face me, running her fingers through her loose hair.

I roll my neck slowly. "Unfortunately, we can stay here all day." I say with a sigh, glancing back at the screen. "I need to finish some paperwork before I have to leave.”

“But that won’t take you long.”

“Ilia, I meant lots of paperwork.”

“Oh…”

------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't a lie about the paperwork, but it's always a convenient excuse to get some privacy. Although this time I'm not in my office. Instead, I'm seated on the edge of my bed, watching the large screen projected by Pod hovering beside me.

Pod-3 had reached the Grimm Lands later than initially projected, but she still arrived safely and has been systematically recording everything since her arrival. The new stream of data has been fascinating and... unsettling.

Calling it a wasteland would be a severe understatement. Instead of the expected gray or dead brown desolation typical of lifeless regions, an unique reddish-purple hue that just looks unnatural dominated the entire landscape. Nothing grows there—no vegetation, no insects, no signs of life whatsoever. Just that unnaturally colored dirt stretching endlessly in every direction, punctuated by countless jagged mountains that rise like broken teeth against a perpetually red sky. The sky itself is strange—maybe it's the clouds that have somehow changed the color? Or perhaps the atmospheric composition in that specific region is different, as insane as that sounds.

Most prominently, there are crystals everywhere. Massive formations of purple and magenta crystals jutting from the ground in every direction; some towering as tall as buildings, others scattered across the surface like fields of shattered glass catching that red light.

I lean forward slightly, trying to get a better look. "Pod-3, I need you to study the land as extensively as possible. Take as many samples as necessary at whatever field you can think of."

"UNDERSTOOD, COMMANDER. INITIATING COMPREHENSIVE SAMPLE COLLECTION AND FIELD ANALYSIS PROTOCOLS."

"POD-3, RECOMMENDED PROCEDURE:" Pod's voice chimes in from beside me. "BEGIN WITH SURFACE CRYSTAL SAMPLES USING LOW-INTENSITY LASER EXTRACTION TO AVOID STRUCTURAL CONTAMINATION OR PREMATURE ACTIVATION. FOLLOW WITH SOIL COMPOSITION ANALYSIS AT VARYING DEPTHS—SURFACE LEVEL, THIRTY CENTIMETERS, AND ONE METER DEPTH. ATMOSPHERIC READINGS SHOULD BE TAKEN CONTINUOUSLY DURING SAMPLE COLLECTION. MAINTAIN SAFE DISTANCE FROM ANY DETECTED GRIMM SIGNATURES THROUGHOUT OPERATION."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. COMMENCING SAMPLE COLLECTION SEQUENCE NOW."

Half an hour passes before she completes her task.

"ALL PRELIMINARY TESTS COMPLETE, COMMANDER. BEGINNING COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS REPORT." Finally, Pod-3's voice returns.

"Go ahead," I authorize, leaning forward with intense focus.

"STARTING WITH CRYSTAL FORMATIONS:" Pod-3 begins. "COMPOSITION DEFINITIVELY IDENTIFIED AS GRAVITY DUST WITH 97.3% PURITY RATING. THIS REPRESENTS THE PRIMARY CONTRIBUTING FACTOR FOR WHY THE REGION DENOMINATED AS THE GRIMM LANDS HAS TAKEN ITS CURRENT DISTINCTIVE APPEARANCE AND COLORATION PROFILE. THE CONCENTRATION OF GRAVITY DUST IN THIS GEOGRAPHICAL AREA EXCEEDS ANY RECORDED NATURAL DUST DEPOSIT IN EXISTING DATABASES BY A FACTOR OF APPROXIMATELY FOUR THOUSAND PERCENT."

That's... almost impossible to think about. There's so much high-purity Dust just exposed openly on the surface, completely unprotected and theoretically available for harvesting in virtually unimaginable quantities. The economic value alone would be absolutely astronomical—enough to reshape entire kingdom economies. But then again, it's the Grimm Lands—which perfectly explains why no one, not even the notoriously aggressive SDC, has attempted to exploit these resources despite their obvious value.

"GRAVITY DUST WOULD HAVE SIGNIFICANT PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS IN UTILITY INFRASTRUCTURE DEVELOPMENT AND TRANSPORTATION SYSTEM ENHANCEMENT," Pod adds with characteristic analytical precision. "HOWEVER, IT PROVIDES MINIMAL VALUE FOR PRIMARY ENERGY GENERATION PURPOSES COMPARED TO MORE COMMON FIRE OR LIGHTNING DUST TYPES. ITS PRIMARY FUNCTIONAL APPLICATIONS INVOLVE MASS MANIPULATION, GRAVITATIONAL FIELD ALTERATION, AND LOAD-BEARING CAPACITY ENHANCEMENT."

I nod slowly. Construction support systems, heavy equipment lifting, potentially even advanced weapons platforms that manipulate gravitational fields—but it fundamentally won't solve the growing demand for more energy.

"There has to be other Dust types underground," I muse aloud, thinking through the geological logic. "It would be logical to assume that if Gravity Dust is this overwhelmingly abundant on the surface layer, other elemental varieties must exist in subterranean deposits. Different Dust types typically form in stratified layers based on their formation conditions. But then again..." I gesture at the hellish landscape displayed on screen. "It's the Grimm Lands. Normal logic might not apply."

"RESUMING REPORT," Pod-3 gets our attention back. "SOIL COMPOSITION RESULTS: THE EARTH SUBSTRATE IS EFFECTIVELY DECEASED—FORMALLY CLASSIFIED AS A COMPLETE ECOLOGICAL DEATHZONE WITH ZERO VIABILITY FOR ORGANIC LIFE. TOXICITY LEVELS MEASURE AT EXTREME PARAMETERS ACROSS ALL TESTED SAMPLES. DETECTED CHEMICAL COMPOUNDS INCLUDE HIGHLY CONCENTRATED SULFUR, ARSENIC, MERCURY, LEAD, AND MULTIPLE UNIDENTIFIED ORGANIC DECAY PRODUCTS IN ADVANCED STAGES OF DECOMPOSITION. THE CHEMICAL COMBINATION PRODUCES CONTINUOUS TOXIC GAS EMISSIONS AT LEVELS IMMEDIATELY DANGEROUS TO ORGANIC LIFE FORMS. ATMOSPHERIC READINGS CONFIRM PERSISTENT PRESENCE OF HYDROGEN SULFIDE, SULFUR DIOXIDE, METHANE, AND OTHER POISONOUS GASES LETHAL TO ANY BIOLOGICAL ORGANISMS."

So the land itself, assuming you didn't immediately vomit all your guts on the spot or if your skin doesn’t peel off instantly.

"Any Grimm sightings?" I ask, though the answer should be fairly obvious given the location.

"AFFIRMATIVE, COMMANDER. MULTIPLE GRIMM ENTITIES DETECTED AT SAFE OBSERVATION DISTANCE. TRANSMITTING VISUAL DATA RECORDS NOW."

A new image materializes on the screen, showing normal grimm but then one picture in particular causes me to raise an eyebrow in mild surprise.

Obviously it's a massive flying Grimm—shaped somewhat like a grotesquely deformed whale with unnaturally elongated proportions and distorted features. Its hunched back and prominent fins are absolutely covered, practically encrusted, with those distinctive purple gravity dust crystals growing directly from its body. The sheer size is easily comparable to a full-sized Atlesian military airship, perhaps even larger.

But then the screen image freezes.

"COMMANDER, NEW GRIMM VARIANT SIGHTED. BASED ON ESTABLISHED CLASSIFICATION PARAMETERS AND OBSERVED THREAT CAPABILITIES, THIS ENTITY QUALIFIES AS A BEHEMOTH-CLASS THREAT. PRELIMINARY DESIGNATION: WYVERN-TYPE."

My attention sharpens immediately. "Show me the live feed now."

"UNDERSTOOD. SWITCHING TO REAL-TIME VISUAL TRANSMISSION."

The screen transitions, revealing a Wyvern currently resting on the ground in what appears to be a natural clearing among the crystal formations.

I immediately recognize the general body structure as resembling a classical flying wyvern from my memories, but there is a catch. It's absolutely massive—not necessarily in height, but in sheer bulk. The best size comparison I can make is that it appears roughly equivalent to the Brachydios behemoth in overall mass, but its width and length are substantially greater, making it appear even more imposing.

The physical characteristics are most striking and immediately threatening. Enormous horns protrude prominently from its head, but these aren't the typical bone structures found on every other Grimm species. These appear to be formed entirely from crystallized Gravity Dust, gleaming with that distinctive purple-magenta hue and likely incredibly dense. Its entire muscular body and massive wings are covered extensively in hundreds of bone-like spikes that jut out at vicious, irregular angles, creating a natural armor system that would make any physical melee attacks nearly suicidal.

Not even considering the obvious fact that it could use those spikes as devastating close-range weapons by simply moving its body.

However, as we watch, the flying behemoth does something unexpected and fascinating from a morbid curiosity perspective. It begins rolling its body across a dense field of Gravity Dust, intentionally coating itself thoroughly in the substance. The dust clings readily to its hide and bone plating, seeming to be actively absorbed into the spikes and armored plates covering its body.

"HYPOTHESIS BASED ON OBSERVED BEHAVIOR:" Pod chimes in analytically. "THE GRIMM MAY BE ACTIVELY UTILIZING THE GRAVITY DUST TO ENHANCE FLIGHT CAPABILITIES THROUGH MASS REDUCTION, OR TO DECREASE EFFECTIVE WEIGHT FOR IMPROVED AERIAL MANEUVERABILITY AND SUSTAINED FLIGHT DURATION. ALTERNATIVE HYPOTHESIS: THE DUST ABSORPTION MAY SERVE A BIOLOGICAL REGENERATION FUNCTION OR ENHANCE PHYSICAL ARMOR DENSITY."

That makes some sense. Something that big and bulky couldn’t naturally fly after all.

"COMMANDER, DETECTING SEISMIC ACTIVITY," Pod-3 announces suddenly. "TREMOR REGISTERING AT IRREGULAR INTERVALS WITH INCREASING AMPLITUDE. ANALYSIS INDICATES NON-GEOLOGICAL ORIGIN. VIBRATION PATTERNS SUGGEST LARGE-SCALE MOVEMENT APPROACHING FROM APPROXIMATELY 2.3 KILOMETERS NORTHWEST."

On screen, the flying behemoth's entire posture changes instantly. It snaps back onto its feet, revealing a set of large, wickedly sharp claws that dig into the earth. Its massive head swivels toward the source of the tremors, bone spikes bristling along its spine. A low, deeply threatening snarl before it throws its head back and releases a roar, unleashing its wing. 

Then the ancient Grimm launches itself into the air with almost impossible speed for something of its size and bulk. Which shows the full effect of the gravity dust.

"Pod-3, maintain visual contact." I give the order.

"UNDERSTOOD, COMMANDER. INITIATING PURSUIT"

The screen blurs momentarily as Pod-3 accelerates to full speed to keep pace with the behemoth. But I quickly notice that the behemoth is actually faster than her. She still manages to maintain somewhat adequate visual distance, but the gap is widening. However, they reach the source…

What the fuck?

I blink hard and rub both my eyes with my hands just to be sure that I am not seeing things.

But when I look again, the scene remains exactly the same.

The behemoth of interest violently crashed into another behemoth that was emerging from the sterile ground. This new behemoth is a lot bigger than the Wyvern, perhaps triple. But its entire body is covered in what appears to be thick, heavily segmented bone plating that forms a complete protective shell across its entire body; it looks like a moving fortress. 

I can only watch in silence, this armored behemoth extends what I initially mistook for conventional wings—but they're far more like enormous hands. It uses these appendages with surprising dexterity to grab the attacking Grimm mid-assault, its grip visibly crushing against the smaller creature's body, before violently throwing it away. 

But that doesn’t stop it. Instead, it recovers mid-flight, powerful wings catching air and stabilizing its trajectory. It circles back and launches into a savage, absolutely relentless assault on the larger creature.

I quickly noticed that it isn't a mindless attack, but it targets specific sections of the armor, what are the weak points and ripping off chunks.

Despite the very size difference, the smaller Grimm has the upper hand.

It only matters of time before the neck area is exposed, showing the characteristic black hide of the Grimm.

Without wasting a second, the flying behemoth lunges with open maw and tears savagely into the flesh, shaking its head violently.

The armored behemoth seems to shriek in pain before its legs buckle and it collapses heavily to the ground.

And the winners start eating its hunted prey.

Amazing.

That's all  what I can say.

Watching two behemoth-class Grimm engage in a fight to the death. I'd seen similar behavior before with Brutus when he was attacked by the Gulping Terror, but witnessing it occur on this scale, is another thing entirely.

Wait, the scale on Grimm lands is like this…

What other species would be there? 

Atlas is capable of fighting back the behemoths spread all over Remnant but these?

Not even Atlas's full military might would be prepared to fight back against something like these monsters.

And what if I stamp them too?

Although I would need to first maximize my defenses otherwise, I would die the second I set one foot in that death zone.

"Pod-3, continue exploring and make sure to record new behemoths or grimm species that you find." I ask, needing absolute confirmation that we're capturing this unprecedented behavioral data.

"UNDERSTOOD."

And then the transmission ends.

I roll my neck slowly, working out the tension that I didn't know it had formed. I look over at Pod hovering beside me.

"Pod, come with me to the trade hub immediately. We need to find an encyclopedia of all the monsters from that..." I pause mid-sentence, suddenly realizing something. "Actually, I don't think there's an official name for that world filled with monsters and ancient dragons."

I search my memories. I recall references to different regions being called the "New World" and "Old World", but no actual proper name for the planet itself.

Curious.

"UNDERSTOOD, COMMANDER," Pod responds with characteristic efficiency. "RECOMMENDATION: IT WOULD BE HIGHLY ADVISABLE TO ACQUIRE THE DATA IN DIGITAL FORMAT RATHER THAN PHYSICAL TEXTS. DIGITAL INFORMATION ALLOWS FOR EASIER AND SIGNIFICANTLY FASTER ABSORPTION INTO THE CENTRAL DATABASE AND ENABLES INSTANT SHARING WITH ALL OTHER POD UNITS SIMULTANEOUSLY."

"I know."

------------------------------------------------------------

So it turns out that what I witnessed a day ago was a territorial fight to the death between Grimm variants of a Nergigante and a Shara Ishvalda—real Wyverns that in their original world are classified as elder dragons, which represent the absolute apex predators and epitome of evolutionary food chain.

And their Grimm versions exist here in Remnant.

That knowledge doesn't sit well with me. Not even remotely.

They're consuming each other in a brutal food chain, which provides some containment, but it's concerning. I will need more strength and greater firepower before I can even realistically consider engaging those monsters in direct combat. Thank whatever gods might exist that they're currently secluded within the Grimm Lands and preying on each other rather than venturing into the kingdoms.

The Shara Ishvalda alone could raze entire cities to the ground if the encyclopedia entry wasn't grossly exaggerating—which I sincerely doubt it was. 

It was a very good decision to send Pod-3 to investigate that region. Otherwise, I would have remained completely clueless about the true magnitude of dangers existing in Remnant beyond conventional Grimm and Atlas. Although she has yet to locate Salem's lair or stronghold, she still has plenty of time to continue the search and gather intelligence.

But those are concerns for later.

I'm currently walking through the ruins of Mountain Glenn, my boots crunching on debris-strewn streets that nature has been slowly but steadily reclaiming over the years of abandonment. Beside me, Brutus keeps his massive head low to the ground, smelling for something.

I stop walking and look up at the sky. The sun is still positioned high overhead—roughly midday, which means we have approximately two to three more hours of daylight before nightfall brings out the dangerous nocturnal Grimm.

But then I notice something shift in the sky which then is reassured with multiple fast-moving shadows crossing overhead in rapid succession. I sigh with mild annoyance and gently hit Brutus's side belly. "Cover. Now."

We move quickly under the shelter of a collapsed building's concrete overhang, pressing against the relatively intact wall.

Moments later, the distinctive wet impact sounds begin—dozens of them in rapid succession as numerous small Grimm birds dive-bomb the broken street below in suicidal dive attacks, their bodies impacting the pavement. Some strike the ground so violently they practically explode on impact, leaving dark stains before beginning to dissipate. Just like it happened months ago.

When it finally stops, I give Brutus an approving nod. He immediately rushes out into the street with that joy and begins eagerly consuming the Grimm scattered across the pavement that are still alive.

The smaller Grimm thrash pathetically in his massive jaws for brief moments before being crunched and swallowed whole. 

Huh, things truly changed after months. Obviously, I won't lower my guard or start acting recklessly. That's precisely how people die. 

Besides, having Brutus accompanying me provides another layer of security. The Squig-Grimm can handle practically anything these ruins might throw at us through sheer physical power, and he relishes in violence so any fight would get him all pumped up and happy.

As for why I'm specifically here in Mountain Glenn today, it's mostly about preparing for our return to Vale.

With Menagerie rapid expansion and improvements on every aspect, and the solid position in MIstral we can finally star looking into recover what we lost after my supposed death, and establish a proper, well-defended outpost rather than the temporary, inadequate hideout we maintained before. 

I need to scout the location again not just because I have a new perspective but there might have been changes.

Not for immediate occupation—we're not ready for that yet—but at least to prepare the basic infrastructure, map the terrain much better and select optimal entry and exit routes, and design a considerably better defensive layout for future use. This is essential groundwork for upcoming operations when we're ready to expand to Vale.

But my train of thought is interrupted when Brutus suddenly snaps his head, his body going completely rigid and his small eyes focusing intently on something.

Yet that reaction is more than enough warning for me to check my immediate surroundings more carefully, my hand moving instinctively to rest on Wilt and Blush's grip, ready to draw.

As soon as I hear the faintest sound—the barely audible creaking, I draw my weapon in a single swift motion. My swing connects with my attacker, cutting cleanly through a giant spider Grimm that was mid-leap, attempting to ambush me from the shadowed overhang above. The two perfectly bisected halves fall separately to either side of me, already beginning their dissolution process.

The spider must possess some form of natural stealth ability because I couldn’t hear it at all.

But Brutus detected it.

Even if I know that if it somehow bit me it wouldn’t have done much since my nanomachines would have automatically blocked any physical damage, I still can't afford to rely entirely on passive defenses. I'll have to be more careful going forward.

"Good boy," I mutter approvingly to Brutus, who's already returned to eating the birds as if the brief interruption never happened. His priorities are remarkably simple.

The squig makes a pleased rumbling sound without pausing his meal, his tail giving a happy wag.

I survey the surrounding ruins, mentally comparing the current layout to my memories of the area before everything went wrong. Things have changed. I can tell that much—more buildings have partially collapsed, vegetation has grown more aggressive, and the Grimm population is not as aggressive as before, probably because the sun is up.

I roll my neck, then click my tongue sharply in the specific pattern.

The proto-Ork immediately snaps to full attention, abandoning his half-eaten meal mid-bite and lumbering over to me. I take the opportunity to mount him, settling comfortably into the saddle, and give his head a few gentle pats.

"Let's go," I give the command, a light tap with my heel to emphasize it.

I activate my enhanced vision, and the world shifts dramatically as overlays and analytical data appear across my entire field of view. Riding astride Brutus, we move through the abandoned streets at a steady pace, my enhanced sight scanning methodically for anything that is out of place—or more specifically, something that absolutely shouldn't belong on the surface level of this ruined city.

We rode for a considerable time, covering several blocks of broken urban landscape filled with crumbling buildings and overgrown vegetation, before I noticed something distinctly wrong, causing me to grab the reins firmly and yank them back.

My Squig halts immediately and obediently, his massive claws digging deep grooves into the broken ground.

I dismount quickly and approach what caught my eye.

A human corpse lying partially concealed beneath scattered rubble and twisted rebar.

Kneeling beside it, I immediately recognize this isn't a standard casualty from Mountain Glenn's original fall. The arms are clearly heavily augmented—extensively damaged cybernetics with exposed circuitry, severed fiber-optic cables, and hydraulic systems jutting awkwardly from torn synthetic flesh coverings. The chest cavity has been violently split open, revealing not organs but rather a complex tangle of reinforced cables, artificial metallic bone structure, and what appears to be auxiliary power distribution systems—all catastrophically broken and non-functional with no chance of salvage.

I would have initially dismissed it as some kind of heavily damaged combat android or security robot until I notice the unmistakable patches of rotted, dried-out human flesh still clinging stubbornly to parts of the metal frame.

Real human tissue in advanced stages of decomposition.

And based on the visible decay rate, environmental exposure damage, and the condition of both organic and synthetic components, I estimate conservatively that the body has been here approximately three weeks. Possibly slightly longer depending on weather conditions.

So that brings the real question.

Why is there a relatively fresh corpse here in Mountain Glenn? This entire settlement has been completely abandoned for years—there shouldn't be anyone actively operating out here except the occasional dumb scavenger or treasure hunter, and those individuals shouldn’t leave a body like that.

Besides, the level of augmentation is far beyond what any civilian would reasonably install or could legally afford. This person was more machine than human.

I stand slowly, leaving the body exactly where it lies. There's nothing more to learn from it.

Mounting Brutus again, I redirect him to cover more ground.

Twenty minutes later, I discover another body—this one reduced almost entirely to a weathered skeleton with rusted, broken cybernetics still attached to the bones. The legs are constructed almost entirely from mechanical components, and the skull shows extensive metallic neural implants throughout the cranial structure. This person didn't possess natural eyes at all—instead, there's a shattered optical visor integrated directly into the skull, now broken and non-functional.

I rub my chin thoughtfully. My initial assumption would be unfortunate Huntsmen-in-training who became overwhelmed during some poorly planned mission or training exercise gone catastrophically wrong.

But this level of invasive augmentation? 

This is far beyond what Nines consistently reported observing at Beacon Academy. Her detailed reports mentioned students occasionally sporting a single augmented arm or hand replacement, maybe even a few students with head-mounted communication implants—essentially internalized scroll functions at best—but absolutely nothing this invasive, nothing even remotely approaching full-body conversion like these corpses display.

Better said…

This looks similar to military-grade combat augmentation. Experimental.

My frown deepens as growing suspicion takes firm root. I look toward the nearest building—a partially collapsed apartment complex that still maintains most of its height.

"Brutus, wait here" I command firmly, and the Squig settles obediently into a watchful crouch.

I make a running start toward the building's damaged exterior, using the cracked wall as an improvised climbing surface. My enhanced body allows me to spring from crack to hole to exposed windowsill, rapidly ascending the structure until I reach the rooftop level with a final pull-up.

From the new vantage point, I activate my enhanced vision again and scan the surrounding area, searching for any other obvious anomalies.

That’s when in the far distance, I spot a Goliath herd—at least a dozen of the elephant-like Grimm moving in loose formation—being led by an even larger alpha, a Megoliath almost twice the size of its smaller kin. Fortunately, they seem to be circling in the outskirts of the city.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, I see it—a missile streaking through the air with a distinctive white vapor trail, traveling at high velocity and impacting directly against the Megoliath's heavily armored head. The resulting explosion bigger than expected and from this considerable distance, I clearly heard the distinctive, enraged trumpet-scream of the alpha.

The Megoliath's reaction is immediate and predictable—it immediately pivots its massive body, lowers its head aggressively, and charges at full ramming speed straight toward the ruins—heading directly toward whoever shot that missile. The entire herd follows their alpha's furious lead without hesitation, and I can feel the ground beginning to shake from their combined mass and momentum.

But… who the absolute hell just fired that missile?

Mountain Glenn is supposed to be completely abandoned, a dead zone. There absolutely shouldn't be anyone actively operating out here.

I must investigate.

But from a safe distance. 

Without hesitation, I hop off the roof's edge. I slide down the damaged exterior wall, using the friction to manage my speed, and land with perfect timing directly on Brutus's back.

"Over there, move fast!" I point decisively in the direction the missile originated from, giving his rear a firm tap.

Brutus breaks immediately into a sprint, his strong legs eating up distance rapidly across the broken street.

Soon I hear the unmistakable cacophony of sustained heavy gunfire echoing through the ruins, punctuated by explosions and the distinctive acrid smell of fire dust, mixed with the enraged roars and distorted, agonized squeals from Goliaths reverberating through the abandoned streets.

I quickly stand up from Brutus's back and launch myself toward the nearest building, propelling myself upwards. I start climbing rapidly and efficiently, using every visible crack, exposed rebar, and structural protrusion as secure handholds. It isn't nearly as tall as the first building I scaled earlier, but it's more than enough as a new vantage point.

Once there, I look down and witness the chaos unfolding below.

The Grimm herd is violently tearing through what appears to be a hastily constructed barricade, scattering debris, concrete barriers, and twisted metal fortifications in all directions with their overwhelming mass. The Alpha Megoliath, clearly recognized as the primary high-value threat by the defenders, has wrapped its incredibly long trunk around an entire armored military transport vehicle, lifting the multi-ton machine effortlessly off the ground before hurling it with directly at a concentrated formation of standard Atlesian Knight who had been focusing coordinated fire on it. The robot soldiers attempt to scatter, but many get instantly crushed.

The rest of the herd that broke through tackles other armored vehicles with their massive bulk, using their considerable weight and momentum as living battering rams. However, I notice that there are noticeably fewer Grimm now than I counted minutes ago during the initial charge. Even if the first line of defense was broken Atlas’ forces are successfully holding their ground and systematically reducing their numbers through concentrated firepower.

Then my eyes widen as I clearly recognize one of the vehicles actively engaged in the melee—an Atlas Dragoon autonomous walker unit. The same fucking machines that directly caused the death of everyone aboard that cursed operation.

The heavily armored tetrapod, standing roughly six meters tall with its characteristic white and blue Atlas military color scheme, holds its ground against a full-speed Goliath tackle that absolutely should have demolished lighter vehicles. Its reinforced hydraulic legs absorb the tremendous kinetic impact somehow as it releases massive amounts of steam from the leg joints, maybe that is to dissipate the force. Almost immediately the Dragoon's distinctive dual mini-guns spin up to max speed and proceeds to completely shred the attacking Grimm's armored head at point-blank range, reducing the creature to dissolving black matter in mere seconds.

Simultaneously, what appears to be a more conventional spider tank somehow manages to execute a vertical jump despite its considerable mass, landing directly on top of another charging Goliath's back. It doesn't hesitate for even a second before discharging its primary laser cannon directly into the monster at zero range, the concentrated energy beam punching completely through the creature, killing it on the spot.

But one thing is on my mind.

Why the hell are Atlas military forces in Mountain Glenn to begin with?

This is supposed to be completely abandoned territory, officially written off decades ago. And more importantly, it falls explicitly within Vale's recognized sovereign territorial boundaries... 

Right. Atlas is the implicit military and economic leader of the entire world. National sovereignty is essentially just a paper, meaningless in reality since Atlas can do whatever they want.

Still, why deploy significant military forces this far from the kingdom proper? What strategic objective could justify establishing combat operations in ruins this remote?

Yet their unexpected presence here completely ruins my future plans to utilize Mountain Glenn as a base once more. I absolutely can't establish White Fang operations here if Atlas has officially decided to claim and militarize these ruins for whatever purpose they're actively pursuing.

"Pod, drop whatever you're currently doing immediately. I need your help."

"UNDERSTOOD, COMMANDER. ARRIVING NOW."

It takes only a moment before Pod materializes directly beside me and starts scanning the battlefield.

"SCANNING. ANALYZING UNIT MARKINGS AND IDENTIFYING SYMBOLS. SCANNING COMPLETE." There's a brief pause. "SYMBOLS AND DESIGNATION NAMES FOUND ON THE COMBAT VEHICLES. THIS MILITARY UNIT IS PART OF THE 3RD ATLAS AUTONOMOUS COMBAT DIVISION, FORMALLY DESIGNATED AS THE 'STEEL LEGION.' ESTIMATED FORCE COMPOSITION: ZERO HUMAN PERSONNEL. COMPLETE ROBOTIC AUTOMATION."

So it's an entirely unmanned robotic force—now it makes sense why it is so far away.

And they are not welcome here.

I reach into my pocket dimension and withdraw my anti-materiel rifle, the weapon materializing in my hands with familiar weight. I quickly perform a check to confirm it's properly loaded with armor-piercing rounds, then drop smoothly to one stable knee and carefully set my initial sights on the Atlas Dragoon, which is clearly showing itself as the strongest and most dangerous combat unit among their deployed forces.

"Let's see if this is enough for you," I mutter quietly, settling into controlled breathing rhythm and line up my first shot through the scope.

After all, these specialized rifles were specifically engineered and manufactured to disable or destroy heavily armored vehicles and even tanks with single well-placed shots. Atlas's combat walkers shouldn't possess thick armor platting, despite their advanced technology and engineering.

"RECOMMENDATION, COMMANDER:" Pod's voice chimes in. "DRAGOON UNITS POSSESS STRUCTURALLY VULNERABLE POINTS AT LEG JOINT CONNECTIONS. DISABLING THOSE CRITICAL ARTICULATION POINTS WILL CAUSE IMMEDIATE STRUCTURAL COLLAPSE AND COMPLETE MOBILITY LOSS."

"Good idea." I smoothly adjust my aim, shifting the crosshairs from center mass to focus precisely on one of the walker's exposed hydraulic knee joints.

I didn't realistically think I would get another opportunity for direct retribution against these Atlesian bastards.

So... Would this count as revenge?

I steady my breathing.

And gently squeeze the trigger.