Prime System Champion [A Multi-System Apocalypse LitRPG]

The comms unit on the heavy oak table in my private study seemed to thrum with silent menace even after the connection cut. I rubbed my temples, staring at the black device as if it could project the secrets Nyx was bringing home.

"Jeeves, lower the inner shield layer at Sector 4 just enough for a single transit," I ordered, already pacing. "And tell the security detail to stand down. If they point a weapon at her, she might take it personally."

"Done, Master. Transit corridor authorized. Nyx will be in the Bastion central keep within fifteen minutes."

I left the study and headed for the War Room. The map of our territory glowed on the central table — a serene blue island in a sea of geological randomness. Lucas, Eliza, Silas, and my grandfather Arthur were already filing in, summoned by the priority alert.

"She's back?" Lucas asked, his armor clanking softly as he leaned over the display. His face was stoic, but I saw the tightening around his eyes. Nyx was family now. Her absence, especially in deep cover among hostiles, had weighed on all of us.

"She's inbound," I confirmed. "Secure and intact."

Minutes later, the heavy doors groaned open.

Nyx didn't walk in; she seemed to materialize from the shadows of the corridor. She was still wearing the drab, travel-stained fatigues of a refugee, her face streaked with deliberate grime, but her posture was unmistakable. It was the predator's slouch — relaxed, deadly, aware.

"Report," I said, unable to keep the relief out of my voice.

She nodded to me, then swept a gaze over the room. "The operation was a partial success. The group we exiled — the dissenters — they were indeed organized. But they weren't random Kyorian sympathizers."

She tapped a key on the holotable, uploading data from her personal drive. A symbol appeared floating above the map — a stylized, jagged spiderweb.

"The Shadow-Weavers," Silas breathed, his eyes narrowing. "That's one of their guild symbols. Assassins, saboteurs."

"Correct," Nyx agreed, her voice cool. "They were hired with the highest level of priority. Their objective wasn't to take down Bastion directly. They were meant to embed, wait for the Kyorian main force to engage, and then shatter the shields from the inside. Sabotage the artifact, which they assumed is what powers our shields. They were also tasked with other methods of stalling and weakening us. Poisoning the water supply, ruining our crops, and damaging logistics using any presented method."

"Standard siege-breaker tactics," Lucas growled, crossing his arms. "But they failed."

"They have," Nyx allowed herself a rare, thin smile. "The quarantine measures Eliza implemented, the Soul-Contract… it locked them out completely. Their leader, a man named Draven, was… displeased. I tracked them to their extraction point in the canyon lands. A Kyorian stealth-shuttle picked them up."

"You tracked them onto a shuttle?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Nyx corrected. "I became the pilot's aide. A mirrored echo after "dealing" with the original. Enough to get me into the cockpit's audio range."

She swiped her hand, and an audio file began to play. The quality was tinny, recorded through a layer of shielding, but the voices were clear.

"…failure is not an option I budgeted for, Draven," a cold, clipped female voice said. Vayne. Even recorded, her tone dripped with dangerous authority. "You assured me your Weavers could penetrate a simple independent settlement."

"The settlement isn't simple!" a male voice, presumably Draven, snarled back. "That shield… it's conceptual. We couldn't scratch it. And the psychic screening… I lost three good operatives just trying to sign their damn guest book!"

"Disappointing."

"You still need us, Adjutant. If you're planning a frontal assault—"

"My planning is none of your concern," Vayne cut him off. There was a pause. A long, heavy silence. Then she spoke again, her voice lower, vibrating with a tightly coiled frustration. "Bastion is unfortunate."

"Adjutant?"

"I have petitioned Governor Vorr for authorization. We are proceeding with the S-14 Protocol. Try not to fail your simple role this time Guild 'Leader'."

The recording ended with a click.

The silence in the War Room was absolute.

"S-14 Protocol," I repeated, the alphanumeric designation chilling me more than any explicit threat. "Jeeves, cross-reference that code against the database we pulled from the Spire's Kyorian interface."

"Searching…" The Anima's voice was hesitant. "Negative, Master. The code does not appear in standard military lexicons. It is likely classified, restricted to Governor-level command."

"It sounds like a weapon," Eliza said, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. "Essence based? Raw Mana? Conceptual? Biological? Tectonic?"

"Or something worse," Arthur murmured.

I looked at Nyx. "Did you get anything else? Locations? Timelines?"

"I managed to infiltrate Draven's personal quarters on the ship for a brief window," she said. "He was venting to his lieutenant. He mentioned Vayne was 'preparing the cage' and that she was waiting on a delivery of a package from 'the Deep Sectors'. That was all I could gather before their sweep teams began a routine full essence scan of the crew manifest. I had to extract via the airlock in case their scanner could detect me."

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"Jumping out of an airlock in orbit," Silas chuckled, shaking his head. "Hah!"

"It was efficient," Nyx replied.

I paced the length of the table, my mind racing. Vayne was escalating. The refugees were a probe. Now that the probe had snapped, she was reaching for the sledgehammer.

"We need to harden the shell," I said abruptly. "Eliza, Leoric. I want redundancy on the Aegis generators. Triple redundancy. If one goes down, two come online instantly. I want Bastion to be able to sit inside a supernova if it has to."

"We can divert power from the lower workshops," Leoric mused, already pulling up schematics. "Install Void-sink capacitors to absorb heavy impact overload…"

"Do it," I commanded. "Lucas, run siege drills. Real ones. Civilians in the shelters. Run through full lockdown procedures, emergency contingencies. I want everyone to prepare as if the sky is going to fall tomorrow."

"Done," Lucas affirmed.

I turned back to Nyx. Her eyes were fixed on me, dark and unreadable.

"I can go back," she said softly. "Send me to Akkadia. To the Capital. Vayne is there. I can get close. I can wear the face of her secretary, her guard…"

"No," I shook my head firmly. "Too dangerous. Akkadia is the heart of the spiderweb. Vayne is a Spymaster. She expects spies. She can probably personally detect you. And her stronghold will be layered with detection wards — soul-scanners, pheromone trackers, behavioral analysis algorithms. Her 'Deep Cover' protocols could detect you, it's not worth the risk."

Nyx's jaw tightened. "I am not an amateur."

"I know you're not. But it is too risky in Vayne's headquarters," I said. "If you want to gather intel, go to Nexus Delta-7. It's a lot less secure, busy and chaotic. The high traffic means more noise to hide in. See what shipments are coming in from these 'Deep Sectors'. Find out any information on the S-14 Protocol."

She hesitated, looking disappointed at being denied the head-shot mission, but then nodded. "Very well. Nexus Delta-7. I will infiltrate the logistical depots."

She faded back, blending into the room's periphery, disappearing into gathering information.

The meeting dispersed, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I felt pulled in two directions. Vayne's threat hung over Bastion like a guillotine blade. Every instinct screamed at me to stay here, to stand on the battlements and wait for the attack. How could I leave now? How could I jump into a portal to the Ossuary for training when my home was targeted by a weapon?

But if I stayed I could still be incapable of defeating it, having not truly mastered a Domain. I would just be reacting again. A powerful turtle waiting for a bigger hammer to crack its shell. If Vayne somehow brought a weapon that could bypass Prime System Edicts, my presence here as a Tier 6 might not be enough.

To stop her, to truly secure freedom, I needed to transcend the game she was playing. I needed the power to rewrite the board.

"Doubt is heavy, Master," a quiet voice spoke from the corner.

Jeeves, with his glistening tuxedo — now equivalent to Tier 6 Legendary Armor — shimmered into focus.

"I shouldn't go," I muttered, leaning on the map table. "It's irresponsible. What if she strikes while I'm gone?"

"And if she strikes and you are here, but insufficient?" Jeeves countered, brutal in his logic. "You have built a formidable defense, Master Eren. Bastion should have a significant chance of holding for the Charge duration. You have Guardians, Armies, us. Trust in the fortress you built."

He walked closer. "Your currently stated goals are to be the storm that breaks the siege. To do that… you must grow."

I looked at the hologram. He was right.

"Kasian said the portal to the Ossuary takes a week to recharge?"

"Correct. Due to the immense distance and the density of the opposing atmosphere, the Spire needs to build a stabilized corridor. Seven days."

"Seven days," I repeated.

I pushed off the table.

"Fine. For seven days, we fortify. I'll pour every ounce of mana I have into the Aegis capacitors. I'll work with Leoric until my fingers bleed. When I step through that portal, I want to know that I left this place tougher than dragon scale."

The next week was a blur of manic productivity.

I didn't sleep. I barely ate. I spent my days in the foundry with Leoric, channeling massive amounts of refined conceptual mana into the new "Void-Sink" shield generators. I worked with Lucas, redesigning the patrol routes, identifying any potential blind spots in our sensory web. I spent hours with Eliza, helping her power the essence-fueled cores for the automated turrets and fire-core golems Leoric built.

Every evening, I visited Anna. Through the reinforced glass of the Chrysalis chamber, I watched her.

She was floating in the amber suspension, peaceful, unresponsive. But the readings were climbing. Her mana density was thickening, becoming rich and heavy. Her skin was beginning to take on a faint, iridescent sheen — the physical manifestation of a Tier 5 body acclimating to high-concept reality. She was safe. She was also becoming very powerful.

Nyx departed on the third day, sneaking in on a mundane trade shuttle that passed not too far from Bastion bound for a neutral settlement, from where she would make her way to Delta-7. Her parting words were simple: "I will find the name of the hammer, Master. You just make sure you can swing yours."

On the seventh day, the Spire was ready.

A deep, harmonic chime resonated through my mental link. The path was open.

I stood in the Spire Hub. I was clad in my full armor recently crafted by Leoric — Legendary Tier 6 [Raiment of the Ashen Sovereign], a light armor set that stored the equivalent of three times my current Mana Core and enhanced my physical running speed. I was ready, my Storage had enough supplies for years, yet I still had a mountain's worth of room for any potential loot.

Jeeves stood by the console. Lucas and Arthur were there to see me off.

"We'll hold the line," Lucas said simply, gripping my forearm.

"Don't let Vayne in the front door," I said.

"Or the back," Marcus added from the shadows, giving a thumbs up.

I turned to the portal. It was different this time.

The swirling vortex wasn't the calm blue of travel or the chaotic violet of the Flux world. It was a pale, sickly bone-white, shot through with veins of terrifyingly bright gold.

Necrotic. Divine.

The air seeping through felt old. It smelled of incense and grave dust, of silent crypts and holy fire.

It was intimidating. And exciting.

I looked back one last time at the images of the people of Bastion, at the sleeping form of my sister in the monitor Jeeves held up.

"When I come back," I whispered, "I'll be stronger, maybe strong enough to end this."

I stepped forward. The white light swallowed me whole.

The Spire hummed, a massive discharge of energy that rattled the very stars around it, and the Administrator left the building.

Behind me, on the main console screen, a tiny red warning light began to blink in the deep-scan array for our Sector — galaxies away from our world.

It blinked once. Twice.

Then, masked by complex Intent, it vanished.