Jax remained silent, falling into step beside Vance as they headed toward the facility’s entrance.
However, as they approached the checkpoint, the squad leader stepped out, blocking their path with an outstretched arm. He looked Jax up and down, his eyes lingering on the worn fabric of Jax’s clothes.
"Hold it right there, kid," the guard sneered. "Let me make one thing clear. Inside are high-precision instruments worth more than your life. You clumsy around and break something, you’re paying for it. Understand?"
Jax offered a slight nod, his expression unreadable. "Mm."
The guard scoffed at Jax’s nonchalance. "Don't act cool with me. I’ve seen plenty of your type—grifters and scammers looking for a free meal. Watch yourself, or I’ll have you thrown out headfirst."
Jax ignored the provocation. He was used to it. His attire screamed 'slums,' and ironically, the people who judged him harshest were often those who had clawed their way out of the same gutters. These guards, having secured a scrap of authority within a major family, often held their noses higher than the actual nobility of The Helios Syndicate. It was the classic arrogance of the nouveau riche—a desperate need to trample on their past to validate their present.
Leaving the guard muttering behind them, Jax followed Vance deeper into the compound. He scanned the area with genuine interest. The layout was surprisingly open; the Defense Towers stood exposed, devoid of protective plating. It seemed secrecy wasn't a priority here, likely because of the heavy security. Hundreds of guards patrolled the perimeter of this R&D center, creating a wall of muscle and steel that made physical barriers redundant.
Vance shot Jax an apologetic look, his voice low. "Hey, sorry about that back there. Those dogs just like to bark at anyone they think they can bully. Don't take it to heart."
Jax waved a hand dismissively. "It’s fine. I don't."
Vance let out a breath of relief, seeing that Jax truly wasn't bothered. But as they walked away, Jax’s voice drifted calmly from behind him.
"Though, if we get the chance, we should probably knock them down a peg."
Vance stumbled slightly, then shook his head with a wry smile. "Easier said than done. Our chains of command are different. I answer directly to Manager Sawyer, but these R&D guys and their security detail? They report strictly to the main branch of The Helios Syndicate in Redrock Bastion. Technically, they outrank us."
Jax smiled faintly. "Relax. I was just joking."
They proceeded to the inner sanctum. The security screenings became tedious—thorough body searches to ensure no weapons were smuggled in. Finally, a technician approached them with two distinct wristbands. They resembled simple rubber rings, but a closer look revealed strange, luminescent filaments woven through the material.
"Jax," Vance explained in a whisper, "these are suppression bands. They detect energy fluctuations. If you try to use any Awakened ability inside the center, the alarms will trip instantly. Seriously, don't try anything. Getting caught using powers unauthorized here is a one-way ticket to prison."
Jax nodded, unfazed. "Understood."
Internally, he was amused. The wristband was useless against him. He wasn't an Awakened; he was a System User. The primitive detection magic wouldn't pick up a thing.
They reached a towering seven-story building. Vance hurried to the reception desk, presenting the letter Sawyer had entrusted to them.
The captain of the security detail tore open the envelope, skimmed the contents, and frowned deeply. He looked up, his gaze locking onto Jax.
"This is the kid?"
"Yes, that's him," Vance said eagerly. "He possesses blueprints that are critical to the current project. We need to go in."
The soldiers lounging in the lobby erupted into laughter.
"Old Vance, have you gone blind?" one soldier jeered. "Look at the kid! He’s practically wearing rags. You really think a slum rat like that has high-grade blueprints?"
"Exactly," another chimed in. "We aren't building trash here. We need tech capable of stopping Tier 3 monsters. We don't have time for garbage picked off the street."
Vance’s face flushed with anger. He remembered Sawyer’s warning vividly: Never underestimate an ordinary person. You never know what terrifying power they might hide.
"Enough!" Vance snapped. "Save your commentary. We are here to see Chief Designer Wu!"
Vance wanted to avoid conflict, but the blatant disrespect toward Jax—and by extension, himself—was becoming unbearable.
The captain slammed his hand onto the desk, the sound echoing through the hall. "Oh? Getting a big head, are we? I call you 'Old Vance' out of courtesy, but don't mistake that for respect. You’re just a low-tier Awakened. Don't come in here barking orders. Sit down and shut up!"
At his signal, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Click-clack. A dozen safety catches disengaged as rifles were leveled at Vance.
The captain leaned back, a sneer playing on his lips. "What? You want to dance? Come on, Vance. Don't delude yourself. You aren't a match for us."
The soldiers snickered, making no attempt to hide their mockery.
Jax stepped forward and placed a calming hand on Vance’s shoulder. "Let it go, Vance. There’s no point arguing with people like this. It’s beneath us."
Vance grit his teeth, forcing himself to stand down. The suffocation in his chest wasn't just about the insults; it was the crushing weight of his own powerlessness. He was an Awakened, yes, but at the bottom of the food chain. In this world, weakness was the only true sin.
They were forced to wait.
Thirty minutes passed before a voice finally droned over the intercom, dripping with laziness.
"Send the person in."
Jax glanced at the speaker, annoyed. His patience was wearing thin. If not for his promise to Sawyer, and the need to rescue Tang Youya from Redrock Bastion, he would have walked away. He held the key to optimizing their defenses—a mere Tier 1 blueprint in his hands could revolutionize their research—yet they treated him like a beggar.
They have no idea what they are missing, Jax thought.
Suppressing a sigh, he stood up. "I'll handle this."
Ignoring the final round of jeers from the soldiers, Jax navigated the corridors until he reached the designated office. He knocked lightly.
"Enter," a weary voice called out.
Jax pushed the door open. Inside, a man wearing thick spectacles was hunched over a drafting table, a magnifying glass in one hand, scribbling furiously.
The man didn't even look up. "Chair's over there. Wait. I'm in the middle of something."
The arrogance was palpable. Jax considered turning around right then, but decided to see it through. He sat in the indicated chair, his eyes wandering around the cluttered office.
On a desk to his left lay a sprawling schematic. The label at the top read: [Tier 2 Penetrator Ballista - Draft].
It detailed the drive mechanisms and tension couplings for a heavy anti-armor tower. Jax glanced at it casually, but the moment his eyes traced the lines, a strange sensation washed over his brain. It was a sudden, crystal-clear clarity.
Huh? Why does this make sense?
He had no background in engineering or ballistics. Yet, looking at the complex diagram was as natural as reading a menu. He understood the flow of energy, the stress points, the material requirements.
System, Jax thought, is this the Blueprint System at work?
[Affirmative, User. The Blueprint System grants intuitive comprehension of all structural and mechanical schematics.]
Jax’s eyes widened. "It's like suddenly knowing a foreign language," he whispered to himself. "I can read the 'grammar' of the machine."
While the designer continued to ignore him, Jax reached out and picked up the Penetrator Ballista blueprint. He studied it for a few seconds, his brow furrowing.
The more he looked, the more offensive it became.
"This is riddled with flaws," Jax muttered, forgetting himself for a moment. "You call this a Penetrator Ballista? The tension distribution is a mess. It wouldn't punch through wet paper, let alone armor. If you actually build it like this, it’ll be a miracle if it doesn't explode on the first shot."
He tossed the blueprint back onto the desk with a sigh.
Suddenly, the scratching of the pen stopped. The engineer slowly turned around.