The screeching from the vents wasn't just loud; it was physical. It vibrated in the metal floor plates, shaking the dust loose from the high rafters.
"They're coming!" Kara shouted, sliding down the railing. She landed awkwardly, stumbling. She looked terrified. "There's hundreds of them! I saw the red eyes!"
Calm down, Elian said, though his own heart was hammering.
He looked at his Guild. Silas was hiding behind the blast furnace, clutching a ledger to his chest like a shield. Goran was standing in the open, gripping his axe, but his knuckles were white. He was sweating—not from heat, but from the memory of the arena. He was a Tank who had lost his nerve.
"Goran!" Elian barked. "Front and center. Block the loading bay door. That's the choke point."
Goran flinched. He looked at the massive sliding door where the scratching was loudest. "I... I don't have my armor," Goran stammered. "You melted it, remember? If I go there, I'm meat."
"You have Iron Skin," Elian countered. "And you have a Healer. Me."
"You're a Builder!"
"I have potions!" Elian pulled a red vial from his belt and threw it. Goran caught it clumsily. "If you die, I don't get my money's worth. Move!"
Goran gritted his teeth. The insult seemed to work better than encouragement. He roared, trying to psych himself up, and stomped toward the door.
"Silas!" Elian yelled over the noise.
"I'm a non-combatant!" Silas shrieked, peeking out. "Read the contract! Clause 4!"
"I need ammo, you leech! There's a crate of scrap metal by your foot. Bring it here!"
Silas looked at the crate, then at the vent covers which were starting to buckle. He whimpered, grabbed the heavy crate, and dragged it across the floor, cursing Elian's entire bloodline.
CRASH.
The vent covers blew off. The Mana-Rats poured out.
They weren't normal rats. They were the size of badgers, their fur matted with purple slime, their incisors glowing with unstable mana. They didn't scurry; they flowed like a carpet of fur and teeth.
[Enemy: Mana-Rat (Lvl 2)][Quantity: 50+]
"Here they come!" Kara yelled. She threw a throwing knife. It hit the lead rat, but the beast just squealed and kept running. "They're tough!"
"They're mana-infused," Elian analyzed, his [Blueprint Sight] highlighting the beasts. "Physical attacks do reduced damage. We need kinetic force."
The rats swarmed toward Goran.
"Get back!" Goran swung his axe. SPLAT. He cleaved two rats in half. But three more jumped onto his legs, biting through his trousers.
"ARGH!" Goran kicked them off, stumbling back. "There's too many!"
He was faltering. The old Goran would have waded in. This Goran was hesitant, flinching at every bite.
Elian realized he couldn't just build a turret and win this. He had to manage the battlefield.
"Goran, stop swinging wild!" Elian commanded. "Anchor your feet! Let them pile up!"
Elian shoved his hand into the crate Silas had delivered. He grabbed a handful of rusty bolts.
[Skill: Material Synthesis][Bolts + Wind Crystal Dust]
"Kara! The conveyor belt!" Elian pointed to the rusted machinery hanging above the rats. "Cut the cable!"
"What?"
"Cut it!"
Kara didn't ask questions. She sprinted up a pile of rubble, leaped onto the catwalk, and slashed the suspension cable with her shiv.
SNAP.
The heavy conveyor belt swung down like a giant pendulum.
"Goran, duck!"
Goran dropped to his knees. The steel belt swung inches over his head and slammed into the wave of rats behind him.
CRUNCH.
Dozens of rats were flattened instantly. The impact shook the floor.
"Nice aim!" Kara cheered from the catwalk.
"Reloading!" Elian shouted. He used [Edit Mode] on the handful of bolts. He didn't make a gun this time—too slow. He fused the bolts into a jagged ball of spikes.
"Goran, catch!"
Elian tossed the spike-ball to the Berserker.
"Use it like a bowling ball!"
Goran grabbed the heavy spiked sphere. He looked at the rats swarming over the flattened conveyor belt. A grin a real, nasty berserk grin finally broke through his fear.
"Strike," Goran growled.
He bowled the heavy iron ball into the mass. The spikes caught the rats, tearing through them, the sheer weight crushing bone and mana cores alike.
"Silas! Loot!" Elian ordered. "Don't let the cores dissolve!"
"I'm on it! I'm on it!" Silas scrambled out with a pair of tongs, snatching up the glowing purple cores from the rat corpses while dodging stray claws. "Money... money... money..."
For ten minutes, it was chaos. Goran was the anvil. Elian was the hammer, reshaping the environment to create walls and crushers. Kara was the eyes, calling out flankers. Silas was the vacuum.
Finally, the screeching stopped.
The last rat, a fat Alpha, hissed at Elian. Elian didn't even use magic. He just stepped on its head with his steel-toed boot.
Squish.
Silence returned to the Foundry. The only sound was heavy breathing and the hum of the furnace.
Goran sat down heavily in a pool of purple rat blood. His legs were bitten and bleeding. "We're alive," he muttered, sounding surprised.
Elian walked over. He didn't offer a hand this time. He offered a bandage.
"Sloppy," Elian said, sitting on a crate next to him. "You flinched on the left flank. You let three get past."
"I killed forty of them!" Goran snapped, wincing as he wrapped his leg. "And you! You nearly took my head off with that conveyor belt!"
"I calculated the arc," Elian said calmly. "I knew you were short enough."
Kara hopped down from the catwalk, her face flushed with adrenaline. "That was awesome! Did you see me cut the cable? Snip! Just like that!"
Silas dumped a bucket of slimy purple cores onto the floor. He was panting, his expensive robes ruined. "Seventy-two cores," Silas counted. "Market value... maybe 800 credits. Minus the cost of the potion Goran drank... we made a profit of twelve credits."
"Twelve credits?!" Goran roared. "I almost died for twelve credits?!"
"We're a startup," Elian shrugged. "Cash flow is tight."
He looked at his team. They were dirty, bleeding, and arguing. Goran was glaring at Silas. Silas was trying to wipe slime off his silk sleeve. Kara was poking a dead rat with a stick.
They were a mess.
But for the first time, Elian felt the Mental Load of Kaelen's memories lighten significantly. Kaelen had fought with heroes. Elian was fighting with misfits.
And somehow, this felt more real.
"Good work," Elian said quietly.
They all stopped and looked at him.
"What?" Goran asked.
"I said good work," Elian stood up. "Silas, put the cores in the inventory. Kara, check the perimeter again. Goran... go take a shower. You smell like wet fur."
Elian walked toward the stairs leading to the upper office.
"Hey, Boss!" Kara called out.
Elian paused. Boss. First time she'd called him that.
"What?"
"Is there any food?"
Elian sighed. He checked his inventory. "I have three cans of peaches and a bag of jerky."
"Feast!" Kara cheered.
Elian watched them squabble over who got the peaches. A faint smile touched his lips.
It wasn't much. But it was Vanguard.