Soulless Soul

Chapter 43: Order

Sky left both girls alone as they continued to talk, their conversation shifting into what he muttered under his breath as "so-called girls’ talk." He didn’t have the patience or the mental bandwidth to decode whatever strategic data or personal tracking Chloe and Vesper were dissecting. His core traits were still recovering from the intense thermal feedback of the previous floor, and the ambient noise of the hub was growing progressively louder, pulling his attention away from the terminal.

Looking forward at the sight of people surrounding a specific section of the lodge, Sky noticed a strange commotion. A massive crowd of dozens of Awakened had gathered near the very center of the polished hardwood floor, tightly surrounding the massive, stone Forge Table that usually sat abandoned between active raid cycles. Loud arguments were violently breaking out across the huddle, the psychological tension in the air so incredibly thick it felt like static electricity prickling against the skin.

"We cannot risk another blind expedition into the floors!" a booming, authoritative voice roared over the frantic chatter, instantly silencing several smaller arguments nearby.

Sky pushed his dark hood up, wrapping his frayed crimson scarf tightly around his lower face to obscure his identity as he quietly blended into the shifting back lines of the crowd. He had no desire to be recognized as one of the few who had just pushed past the unmapped fifth-floor anomalies. In this environment, attention was just another hazard.

Standing directly at the front of the gathering was Commander Arthur. The veteran Paladin—or at least, that’s what he proudly called himself to anyone who would listen—towered over absolutely everyone else in the room. His massive, gold-rimmed tower shield rested heavily against his armored knee, the metal polished to a mirror shine except for where deep, violent gouges marred the surface. His heavy silver armor was covered in deep dents, jagged fractures, and dark scorch marks that no blacksmith in the hub had been able to fully smooth out. But it was his bright, flowing golden hair that really made him stand out in the dim, amber lighting of the lodge. It framed a face etched with the bitter, hardened battle scars of someone who had faced the true horrors of the lower floors and barely crawled back alive.

Is that fake or what? Sky thought to himself, his cynical mind narrowing his gaze as he evaluated the Paladin’s flawless, dramatic posture. In a world where the array quantified everything from a broken rib to a drop of blood, displaying permanent physical trauma like a badge of honor felt more like a calculated political theater than actual survival. It was designed to inspire obedience, to make the weaker awakened believe that only a giant like Arthur could stand between them and total erasure.

"The Array has locked the progression parameters across the entire sector," Arthur continued, his voice booming as he slammed his armored fist heavily onto the stone surface of the Forge Table, causing the nearby blueprints to flutter. "The Crystal Crab has mutated far beyond our historical data models. Yesterday evening, an elite scouting team from the Knight faction was completely wiped out in under three minutes because the monster’s kinetic healing factor has literally doubled in density. If we keep throwing disorganized, low-tier squads into that mechanical meat grinder, we are going to bleed out our absolute best fighters before the true trial even begins!" "And what exactly do you propose we do, Commander?" a sharp, mocking voice called out from the far side of the huddle.

The crowd shifted nervously, parting slightly to reveal Colton, the notorious lobby bully. His bright green hair was tied up tightly with a fraying fabric band, which was pushed back far enough to reveal bloodshot, manic eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept since the Sinking began. He was casually swirling a small glass vial of bubbling, highly volatile purple fluid between his fingers, entirely unbothered by the gravity of the meeting.

"We just stay here and rot in the lodge?" Colton sneered, a twisted grin cutting across his face. "The dimensional rifts in the waking world are actively expanding every single hour. If we don’t completely clear the floor-boss within the next three days, the automated Sleep Cages in the real world will suffer a total power grid collapse. We die a horrible death either way, Arthur. I’d rather take my chances with the crab than wait for my life support to shut off."

"We standardize the squads across the board," Arthur commanded, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd like a commander addressing a broken regiment. "No more independent runs. No more reckless solo operators wandering into the active biomes to hoard precious soul gems and raw materials for themselves. From this moment on, every single resource, every blueprint fragment, and every advanced weapon blueprint must be officially cataloged and distributed by the Vanguard Order. We will build a unified raid team consisting of exactly thirty elite Awakened, perfectly balanced with Utility classes for control, Defense blessings for blocking, and high-tier ranged support for damage output."

Sky narrowed his eyes from the deep shadows of his hood, a cold, bitter taste rising in his throat. A unified raid team. It sounded beautiful, noble, and perfectly logical on paper. But in the brutal reality of the this world, it meant something entirely different. It meant the elite factions and the self-appointed military orders would completely control who got the upgraded weapons, who received the life-saving health potions, and who was left to rot on the front lines with rusted trash and common-tier daggers. It wasn’t a strategy for collective salvation; it was a total monopoly on survival, designed to keep the independent players weak and dependent on the vanguard’s charity.

"And what about the independent teams who have already successfully cleared up to Floor 1-4 on their own merits?" The dense crowd parted slightly as Vesper walked calmly forward from the rear of the room. Her pristine white robes rustled softly against the polished hardwood floorboards, the heavy base of her wooden staff tapping rhythmically against the floor with a steady, unhurried cadence that immediately drew every eye in the room. Her face was an emotionless, frozen mask, completely unfazed by the massive, intimidating physical presence of the Commander or the dozens of armed warriors flanking him. She stopped just a few paces from the Forge Table, her cool gray eyes locking onto Arthur’s scarred face with a terrifying neutral intensity.

The sudden silence that descended upon the Living Room was absolute. The independent players looked at her with a mixture of awe and desperate hope, recognizing her as the high-tier anomaly who had been systematically tearing through the sectors without pledging allegiance to any faction. Arthur adjusted his posture, his massive hand tightening slightly on the rim of his tower shield as he registered her entrance. He knew as well as anyone that if the independent operators refused to comply, his unified monopoly would fracture before it could even be codified.

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