Resting inside was a sleek featureless tactical suit.

It wasn’t made of Ethereal iron or magical silk. It was woven from a hyper-dense polymer. It was completely matte black and designed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"Perfect," Sebastian whispered and pulled the suit out.

Beneath it was a helmet.

It wasn’t a standard Vanguard bucket. It was a smooth completely featureless dome of dark glass.

There was no visor, no eye-slits, and no breathing vents.

To anyone looking at it, it was just a blank terrifying void.

He quickly stripped off Trent’s uniform, folded it neatly, and shoved it into his bottomless

inventory.

He pulled the black tactical suit on. It fit like a second skin.

The material immediately compressed slightly and synced with his body heat.

It felt significantly lighter than Vanguard armor and offered almost zero magical resistance, but Sebastian didn’t care.

He wasn’t planning on getting hit by magic.

Finally, he picked up the blank helmet.

He stared at his own faint reflection in the

smooth dark glass.

For a moment, the tired cynical landlord of Sanctuary vanished.

The man who worried about water pumps and refugee logistics faded away.

"Trent is asleep," Sebastian muttered to the empty room.

He slid the helmet over his head.

The internal HUD didn’t boot up.

There were no flashing blue lights, no health bars, and no digital compass.

The helmet completely muted the ambient noise of the depot and plunged him into a quiet state of absolute isolation.

He breathed in. The air filters inside the suit scrubbed the scent of rust from the air.

He wasn’t a player anymore. He wasn’t a Vanguard soldier.

He was a blank space in the server’s code.

The Blank.

He rolled his shoulders and felt the total unhindered range of motion.

The psychological toll of compartmentalizing his violence was heavy but necessary.

He couldn’t be the hero. He couldn’t be the public face of the rebellion right now.

He had to be the monster in the dark that even the Syndicate feared.

Sebastian reached down to his thigh and drew the Rusty Iron Dagger.

The pathetic low-tier weapon looked almost comical against the sleek tactical suit.

But with his [God-Slayer’s Edge] passive, that rusted piece of metal was the deadliest object on the planet.

He didn’t walk back out the door. He didn’t need to distract the guards again.

He looked up at the high vaulted ceiling of the depot.

There was a rusted ventilation grate about forty feet up.

Sebastian bent his knees and his massive muscles coiled like industrial springs.

He didn’t cast a spell. He just jumped.

He shot upward through the dark and caught the edge of the metal grate with one

gloved hand.

He effortlessly ripped the heavy iron cover out of the wall, tossed it aside, and pulled himself into the shaft.

It was time to go back to the Harvest Den.

It was time to shut down the meat grinder.

——-

The Vanguard processing plant was humming with horrific late-night efficiency.

The massive subterranean cavern was bathed in the light of the giant acid vats.

The deafening hiss of melting flesh and the mechanical groaning of the heavy cranes drowned out all other noise.

The air was a suffocating sauna of toxic chemicals and vaporized biological matter.

High above the factory floor, a network of rusted iron catwalks crisscrossed the ceiling.

The Blank crouched in the deepest shadow of the highest rafter.

Sebastian looked down through the featureless black visor of his helmet.

His vision wasn’t hindered by the dark glass. His [True Sight] easily pierced the material and painted the world in crisp outlines of server data.

Below him, the Syndicate was busy.

A dozen low-level Vanguard grunts were hauling heavy nets filled with paralyzed refugees toward the vats.

The workers looked bored.

They were chatting about sports scores and complaining about their rations while literal human beings wept and struggled in the nets.

"Did you see the game last night?" one guard asked and casually leaned against the railing of the acid pool. "I lost fifty silver betting on the Ironhold arena."

"You’re an idiot for betting against the house," his partner laughed and kicked a stray boot into the glowing blue liquid.

Sizzle.

"Just push the button. My shift ends in ten minutes."

Up in the rafters, Sebastian’s cold fury settled into a freezing absolute calm.

He didn’t use his Ethereal magic.

He didn’t summon a massive black hole or drop the temperature to absolute zero.

He had to keep the [Admin Suspicion] meter completely dormant.

He was going to dismantle this entire operation using nothing but raw physical

brutality.

He dropped.

He didn’t make a sound as he fell thirty feet through the humid air.

He targeted the guard leaning against the railing.

Sebastian landed perfectly on the man’s shoulders.

Before the guard could even register the sudden weight, Sebastian wrapped his

thick thighs around the soldier’s armored neck.

He torqued his entire core and violently spun his upper body.

CRUNCH!

The sickening snap of the cervical spine was loud and decisive.

The guard’s health bar instantly vanished.

Sebastian didn’t let the body fall.

He used the momentum of his spin to cleanly dismount and caught the dead guard under the arms.

He silently lowered the corpse to the metal grating.

The second guard turned around with a confused look on his face beneath his visor.

"Hey, did you hear"

The Blank was already there.

Sebastian moved with a terrifying speed.

He didn’t draw his dagger.

He simply shot his left hand out and grabbed the second guard by the throat.

The raw synchronized strength of his Demigod stats crushed the heavy kevlar

collar like it was made of cheap plastic.

"Guhk!" the guard choked.

His eyes went wide with sudden terror and he tried to raise his kinetic rifle.

Sebastian didn’t let him.

He stepped forward and drove his knee brutally into the guard’s stomach, folding the man in half.

Without pausing, Sebastian grabbed the back of the guard’s helmet and forcefully shoved his face directly into the bubbling acid vat.

SPLAT!

HSSSSS!