Chapter 108: [108] : The Neon Syndicate, Border Ambush

The Iron Bastion was operating at maximum efficiency.

Inside the massive black iron dome, the toxic rain and smog of the real world simply did not exist. The city streets were clean. The forges roared with bright purple magic and thousands of players were actively working to build their new reality.

Declan stood near the central keep and watched the organized chaos.

Sloane had set up multiple merchant stalls near the gates. Players were hauling in carts full of low-level monster parts. They traded them for basic health potions and repaired armor.

Bram’s automated turrets were fully mounted on the eastern and western walls. The heavy blue glass barrels hummed quietly and tracked any movement outside the barrier with lethal precision.

Everything was running smoothly. Except for the complaints.

Declan walked over to a staging area near the heavy iron gates. Two players were standing next to a mostly empty wooden cart and arguing loudly.

One of them was a tall heavily scarred guy holding a massive rusted battleaxe. His system tag read ’Jax’.

The other was a shorter quick-looking guy wearing tight leather armor and spinning a pair of iron daggers. His tag read ’Rook’.

Declan had drafted them earlier that week. They were scavenger captains. Their job was to lead the mining parties out into the hazard zones to collect raw materials for Bram’s forges.

Right now, they looked incredibly frustrated.

"I’m telling you, it’s a complete waste of time," Jax grunted and kicked the wheel of the wooden cart. "We spent six hours swinging pickaxes in the Ashlands. We barely pulled ten pounds of Void-Ore."

"The drop rates are totally broken," Rook agreed and caught his dagger effortlessly. "The system treats Void-Ore like a rare boss drop. If we don’t get more metal soon, Bram is going to stop fixing our gear."

"Problems, Captains?" Declan asked smoothly as he stepped out from the shadows.

Jax and Rook instantly stood up straight. They both looked terrified. Everyone in the city knew not to annoy the Warlord.

"Boss," Jax stammered and quickly bowed his head. "No problem. We’re just... we’re hitting a wall with the mining yields. The ore isn’t spawning fast enough in the outer trenches."

Declan looked at the empty cart. Ten pounds of Void-Ore was pathetic. Bram needed hundreds of pounds to forge the heavy artillery required to defend the city borders.

"You guys are relying on standard game RNG," Declan sighed. "That’s your first mistake."

He didn’t yell at them. He didn’t tell them to work harder. He just pulled up his glowing administrative interface.

As an Abyssal Sovereign who had fully merged a Sanctum Core into reality, Declan held absolute root access over the Iron Bastion and its registered citizens.

He opened the guild roster. He found Jax and Rook’s character files.

"You can’t farm rare drops with base luck stats," Declan muttered. He tapped the glowing holographic screen and bypassed the standard stat allocation limits.

He opened the server’s background drop-rate modifiers. He highlighted the Resource Gathering Yield code specifically attached to the Eclipse Legion tags.

Declan didn’t just tweak the numbers. He entirely broke them! He changed the base 1% rare drop chance to a flat 100%.

He hit confirm.

A bright golden light flashed over Jax and Rook.

The two scavenger captains gasped as the system chimes rang wildly in their heads.

[System Override: Administrator Buff Applied.]

[Passive Trait Unlocked: Warlord’s Fortune.]

[Description: Resource gathering yields increased by 10,000%. Rare item drop chance locked at maximum threshold.]

Jax stared at the glowing prompt in his vision. His jaw hit the floor. "Boss... did you just hack our luck stats?"

"I optimized your workflow," Declan corrected him with a completely straight face. "Now go back to the border trenches. I want that cart full of Void-Ore in two hours."

"Yes, Boss!" Rook yelled excitedly. "We’re going to strip-mine the whole sector!"

The two captains grabbed the cart and sprinted out the main gates. They looked like kids who just got handed the keys to a candy store.

Declan smirked and closed his menu. It was good to be the admin.

Far outside the safety of the Iron Bastion, deep in the ruined and toxic wastelands of the Sector 7 border, things were entirely less peaceful.

The environment here was a nightmare. The ground was cracked and bleeding slow streams of bright orange magma. The air was thick with gray ash.

Down in a deep naturally formed rocky trench, a group of twenty Iron Bastion miners were hard at work.

They were led by Miller. He was a loyal worker who had been one of the first civilians to pick up a sword when Declan opened the gates. Miller was currently swinging a heavy iron pickaxe into the glowing black rock of the trench wall.

CLANG!

The rock shattered.

Instead of dropping a tiny pebble, a massive bowling-ball-sized chunk of pure dark purple Void-Ore popped out and fell to the dirt.

"Jackpot!" Miller cheered and wiped sweat from his ash-covered face. He tossed the massive ore chunk into a heavily loaded wooden cart. "The Warlord’s buff is insane! Every single rock has a core inside it!"

The other miners laughed and cheered as they rapidly filled their bags. They had mined more rare metal in the last hour than the entire server had seen in a week.

They were rich.

"Alright, load it up!" Miller yelled and rested his pickaxe on his shoulder. "Let’s get this back to the Bastion before the Purge mobs respawn."

"I don’t think you’re going anywhere, rat."

The voice echoed from the top of the trench ridge.

Miller froze. He looked up.

Standing on the high rocks and completely surrounding the trench were thirty players.

They didn’t look like the desperate survivors of Sector 7. They didn’t wear the sleek corporate armor of the Apex Hounds.

They looked like absolute cyber-punks!

They wore heavily customized flashy leather jackets glowing with bright neon pink and green led strips. Their hair was dyed in crazy toxic colors. They held high-tier fully upgraded energy swords and heavy plasma rifles that buzzed with lethal power.

A massive glowing guild emblem floated above their heads. A neon green skull with a digital dagger through it.

The Neon Syndicate.

They were the apex predators of Sector 9. They were notorious for being the most toxic griefing player-killer guild on the entire global server.

The leader of the group stepped forward. He looked down into the trench with a cruel arrogant smirk. His system tag floated brightly in the smog.

[Name: Kato]

[Level: 65]

[Class: Plasma Berserker]

"Well, well, well," Kato laughed and spun a glowing pink plasma pistol around his finger. "Look at all this beautiful Void-Ore. You Sector 7 peasants really know how to dig."

Miller gripped his pickaxe tightly. His hands were shaking. He was only a Level 12 worker. Kato could probably kill him just by looking at him!

"This is Iron Bastion territory," Miller shouted up at the ridge. He tried to sound brave. "We are under the protection of Player V. You need to back off!"

Kato burst into loud obnoxious laughter. The rest of his neon-clad guildmates joined in. They jeered and pointed their guns down at the trapped miners.

"Player V?" Kato sneered as he leaned over the edge of the rock. "You think we care about some glitch who got lucky with a boss kill? The borders are dropping, idiot. Sector 9 is expanding."

Kato aimed his glowing plasma pistol directly at Miller’s chest.

"We’re the Neon Syndicate. We take what we want. And right now, I want that cart of ore. Drop your weapons, strip your armor, and maybe I’ll let you walk back to your little dome in your underwear."

Miller looked at his terrified crew. They had worked so hard for this. This was their rent. This was their survival.

Miller gritted his teeth. He didn’t drop his pickaxe. He stepped in front of the cart.

"No," Miller said firmly. "This belongs to the Warlord."

Kato’s smirk vanished. His eyes went entirely dead and cold.

"Wrong answer."

Kato didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.

A blinding bolt of super-heated pink plasma shot out of the barrel. It crossed the distance instantly and slammed directly into Miller’s chest.

The Level 12 miner didn’t even have time to scream. The sheer level difference and raw damage output vaporized his cheap iron armor instantly.

Miller’s health bar zeroed out in a fraction of a millisecond.

The remaining nineteen miners screamed in absolute horror. They dropped their tools and scrambled backward against the rocky walls of the trench.

Kato blew the smoke off the barrel of his pistol. He looked down at the terrified survivors.

"Kill them all," Kato ordered coldly. "Leave the ore. Let’s send a message to this Player V."

The Neon Syndicate raised their rifles. The dark trench lit up with lethal neon fire.