Extra's Sign In System: The Hero's an Idiot!

Chapter 104: The Purifying Light

The Aegis Hover-Van glided smoothly into the Vanguard military garage.

Strike Team Zero stepped out. They were exhausted but completely victorious. They carried three massive crates into the Guild appraisal hall. The room was loud and crowded with veteran Hunters.

Aegon dropped the first crate onto the appraisal counter. He opened the lid.

The loud chatter in the room instantly died.

The Guild appraiser adjusted his glasses. His eyes bulged out of his skull. The crate was filled with gargantuan Armored Bear cores.

The crystals glowed with a terrifying dense red light. They were packed with raw Mythical mana.

"By the Gods," the appraiser stuttered.

"These are not normal C-Rank cores. The density is completely off the charts. Where did you kids find these?"

"Sector 18," Draven answered calmly.

"Are they sufficient?"

"Sufficient? This is a gold mine!" The appraiser frantically tapped his console.

The Guild transferred a staggering amount of wealth into the Strike Team Zero account. The financial reward was enough to buy a small fleet of Vanguard rovers. Their military Merit points skyrocketed on the digital board.

Aegon checked his Vanguard terminal.

"We have gained a massive amount of Merits. But we did not rank up yet. We are still Iron Crests."

"We are just shy of the requirement," Lucien noted. The silver-haired noble smiled.

"We will need one more high-ranking subjugation mission to officially reach Bronze Fang."

"We have time," Draven said. He looked at Bram. The giant boy was standing quietly. But his sheer physical density made the veteran Hunters in the room nervously step away from him.

’His aura has changed. He was always a meek guy, but the look in his eyes had changed quite a bit now. Whatever happened inside must have made his resolve stronger! He needs emotional support though.’

Draven was reminded of the Novel, where Author had provided him a very brutal trauma story. When the Cult used the Dimensional Portal to release the Monsters inside the Bastion Walls, 90% percent of the civilians were killed in that attack. Bram’s parents were among them as well.

He was consumed by infinite sorrow and rage that it made so violent that he became a Raging Berserker. He dedicated his remaining life for fighting Monsters, but was eventually murdered or in terms of the Hero Neville, brought to justice by his blade.

Draven shook his head, trying to forget that horrifying scene and came back to the present.

"We had left our proud engineers behind to develop the Miasma Clearing Tower. Let’s go and check up on them."

---

Deep inside the elite Vanguard Forge, the heat was suffocating.

Massive furnaces roared. The air smelled of molten iron and heavy ozone. This was where the finest weapons of Bastion Seven were crafted.

At a central workstation, Lyra was carefully inscribing a microscopic rune onto a piece of pure Star-Iron. Her hands were steady. But the atmosphere around her was incredibly hostile.

Three senior Vanguard engineers stood nearby. They wore heavy leather aprons and arrogant scowls.

"You are wasting our time and our materials," the lead engineer spat. He was a bald man with a thick gray beard.

"Runesmithing is a delicate art. It takes decades of mastery. Little girls should stick to the Academy classrooms."

Lyra flinched slightly. She kept her eyes down on her work.

"And what exactly is this blueprint?" another veteran mocked. He picked up Cole’s tablet.

"A Miasma Clearing Tower? Do you kids think you are saviors? We have studied the red fog for fifty years. It cannot be cleansed."

A heavy blacksmith hammer suddenly slammed onto the metal table.

The sound echoed like a gunshot. The senior engineers jumped back in shock.

Cole Rust stepped forward. His eyes burned with intense anger. He completely dropped his friendly demeanor. He stepped right into the bald engineer’s personal space.

"You adults had fifty years," Cole growled.

"And you still failed. You hid behind these walls while the world burned. So sit down and keep your mouths shut."

"You arrogant little brat!" the bald engineer shouted.

"You think you can handle Star-Iron better than a master?"

Cole did not argue. He reached his bare hand directly into the roaring furnace. The veterans gasped in horror. But Cole did not burn.

His unique blacksmith aura flared to life. He pulled out a slab of white-hot metal with his bare fingers.

He slammed it onto the anvil and began to shape it perfectly with a series of blinding hammer strikes. He handled the most volatile metal in the world like it was wet clay. The fire had no effect on him while he was forging. That’s how strong his ability was!

He threw the perfectly molded casing onto the table.

"I am the master here," Cole stated coldly. He pointed at the glass testing chamber in the center of the room.

"Bring in the Miasma. We are done building."

The senior engineers were completely speechless. They grudgingly signaled the guards. A sealed glass cube was brought into the room. It was filled with thick toxic red fog.

Cole carefully attached the Star-Iron casing to Lyra’s runic core. It was a miniature prototype of the tower. He placed it inside the glass chamber and sealed the airtight door.

"Activate it," Cole whispered.

Lyra pressed the remote trigger.

The miniature tower hummed. A soft brilliant blue light pulsed from the runes. The light expanded inside the glass chamber. It touched the toxic red fog.

The Miasma did not just scatter. It actively dissolved. The heavy dark toxins broke down on a molecular level.

Within ten seconds, the glass chamber was entirely clear. The red fog was gone. Only pure clean oxygen remained.

The engineering bay fell dead silent.

The bald engineer dropped to his knees. Tears streamed down his wrinkled face.

"Oh my God! How is this possible?! All my life. I gave all my life for this research and could not achieve anything significant for the Bastions. But today, you guys just came in and made a prototype to cleanse the Miasma itself? You are genius! A true Genius! Accept me as your disciple, Master!"

The Bald Engineer kneeled and tried to grab Cole’s leg, but Cole kicked him away. Almost all engineers were seeing him as a test subject to study and gain knowledge from. A peculiarity of the engineers was that they were proud creatures, but they also acknowledge those who are proven to be smarter than them.

Cole had just proven his skills to them, with his actions. Words were useless against people of these kind. And Cole knew it. If he wanted to mass-produce Miasma Clearing Tower and carry forward the legacy of his ancestors, he needed Men. Capable Men. And this Forge was filled with them.

The Senior Engineers took the remaining engineers away and told them not to bother these kids.

The doors to the forge suddenly opened. Draven led the rest of the squad inside.

Cole smiled widely. He ran over and high-fived Lucien. Lyra let out a massive sigh of relief.

"Perfect timing, Captain," Cole laughed. "We just tested it. The prototype works."

Draven looked at the clear glass chamber. A genuine warm smile crossed his face.

"Excellent work. Both of you."

"So what is next?" Aegon asked. His golden eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Do we start building the full-scale towers? Or do we hunt the next Warlord Legacy?"

"Neither," Draven ordered. The squad looked at him in confusion.

"You are going to rest," Draven explained.

"The midterm exams are in four weeks. We have been fighting nonstop. You need to focus on your academics and digest your new powers. As for the Miasma Clearing Towers, we should ask Lord Commander to grant you permission to lead this Mass production according to the prototype you had made. We will need his vision in these matters. Mass Producing something of this scale is sure to draw attention and we cannot be careless."

Draven turned to look at the digital world map on his Vanguard tablet.

"Besides," Draven added quietly.

"The remaining Warlord Tombs are not in Sector 18. They are located deep in the outer territories. We will need to visit the other Bastions to reach them. We need academic clearance to travel that far. Focus on your studies for now."

The squad nodded in agreement. They were excited for the future but grateful for the break.

---

Later that night, the city of Bastion Seven was asleep.

But inside a heavily warded underground chamber beneath the Apex Villa, the shadows were alive.

Draven stood in the center of the dark room. He completely discarded his human persona. He drew upon the terrifying ancient aura of the Void God.

The air turned freezing cold. The gravity in the room became incredibly dense.

Two men stood trembling before him.

Patriarch Hennessey and his right-hand commander Sirius kept their heads bowed respectfully. They dared not look directly into Draven’s eyes.

Draven raised his hand. The System generated a massive glowing World Map in the air.

"My gaze pierces all walls," Draven spoke. His voice echoed with ancient cosmic authority.

"The Church of the Eternal Eclipse scurries in the dark. But they cannot hide from my sight."

Draven swiped his hand. The map zoomed in on Bastion Seven. Dozens of tiny red dots appeared across the city grid.

"The Cult has rats in your house," Draven declared coldly.

"They are embedded in the city guard. They are hiding in the merchant guilds. They seek to sabotage the Miasma Towers before they are even built."

Patriarch Hennessey gritted his teeth in anger.

"They dare infiltrate my city?"

"Hmph! They had already infiltrated your city long before! How do you think your son was abducted? I have marked their exact locations," Draven said. He transferred the data directly to Sirius’s terminal.

"I do not tolerate pests in my domain."

Draven took a slow intimidating step forward.

"You have one week," the Void God commanded.

"Clean this mess up. Eliminate anyone who even breathes a word of treason. Do not disappoint me."

"It shall be done, my Lord," Sirius vowed instantly. He bowed perfectly.

The ancient pressure in the room vanished. The meeting was over.

The shadows retreated. Draven stood alone in the dark. The political purge of Bastion Seven had officially begun.