Absolute Cheater-Chapter 137: Continous Missions

Asher remained silent, his mind racing. Myria’s words confirmed his suspicions, but the squad was unaware of the true risk. It wasn’t a "one in a million" chance—the teleportation exit rune was deliberately engraved, meaning the Metis intended to use it.

Renard clapped his hands together. "Alright, we wrap up here. Everyone, rest up. We’ll move out at dawn."

The squad began dispersing, but Asher lingered near the core, staring at its dimming glow.

"You seem deep in thought," Myria noted as she approached, arms crossed.

Asher exhaled, debating whether to reveal his concerns. "I just don’t like relying on something we don’t fully understand."

Myria tilted her head. "We understand enough. The Trojan Core is a weapon and a tool. If it ever activates as a portal, we’ll be the ones using it first."

That was the problem. Asher doubted they’d be the first ones to use it.

Renard’s voice cut in. "Alright, enough overthinking. We’ve tested it, and now we rest. Move out."

With that, the squad retreated to their camp, setting up shifts for night watch.

For the next few days, the squad carried out mission after mission, each one pushing them further, sharpening their skills and testing their endurance.

Some missions required full teamwork, like raiding Metis strongholds. These operations were fast and brutal—coordinated strikes that relied on their combined strength to overwhelm the enemy. Asher led the charge more than once, his Sanguine Supreme cutting through foes with terrifying precision, while Renard and Myria directed the battle, ensuring no one was out of position. Herman provided support, amplifying their strength at critical moments, turning near defeats into victories.

Other missions were solo assignments. Asher found himself moving through enemy territory alone more than once, tasked with reconnaissance and sabotage. He stalked through the shadows, his senses sharp, avoiding detection with practiced ease. When necessary, he struck swiftly, eliminating targets before they could raise an alarm.

There were times when brute force wasn’t the answer, and stealth became their greatest weapon. Infiltration missions tested their patience—navigating enemy bases undetected, planting traps, stealing intelligence. Myria was particularly adept at these, moving like a ghost through Metis defenses, and Asher found himself partnering with her more often than not.

But the battlefield wasn’t always silent. Some days, the air was thick with the sounds of war—clashing steel, explosions, the cries of victory and defeat. Direct combat missions pushed them to their limits, facing waves of Metis warriors in relentless battles where only skill and strategy ensured survival.

Each mission brought new challenges, new scars. Yet through it all, Asher noticed something troubling. The Metis were changing their tactics—adapting. Traps that once worked failed. Strongholds that should have been weak were reinforced. It was as if the enemy was learning from them.

And then, on the eve of their next assignment, Asher felt it. A shift in the air. The same unease he had felt when they first acquired the Trojan Core.

Something was coming. Something bigger than all of them.

The night before their next mission, Asher stood at the edge of the camp, staring into the darkness beyond. The wind carried a faint chill, rustling the trees in the distance. It was quiet—too quiet.

His unease hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger. The Metis were adapting too quickly, their movements too precise. It was as if they had insight into the squad’s tactics, their weaknesses. And then there was the Trojan Core. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that it wasn’t a tool for them—it was bait.

"Asher," Myria’s voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to find her standing beside him, her silver-white hair shimmering under the moonlight. Her ruby-red eyes studied him carefully. "You’ve been restless lately."

Asher exhaled, crossing his arms. "You don’t feel it? The change?"

Myria’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she looked toward the horizon. "I do," she admitted. "Something’s shifting. The Metis aren’t acting like they used to. They’re more organized, more… deliberate."

"That’s what bothers me," Asher said. "They aren’t just fighting back. They’re anticipating us."

Myria was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Then we need to be prepared for anything."

Asher nodded, but the weight in his chest remained.

At dawn, the squad gathered for their next assignment. This one was different. The mission details were vague—too vague. Their orders were to investigate a recently abandoned Metis outpost deep in enemy territory. No resistance was expected.

That alone set off every alarm in Asher’s mind.

"Alright, listen up," Renard said, addressing the squad. "This outpost was active until three days ago. Then, all traces of the Metis vanished. No fights, no signs of struggle. Just… gone. Our job is to secure any intelligence left behind and figure out what happened."

Myria stood beside him, arms crossed. "Stay sharp. If something feels off, trust your instincts." Explore more adventures at novelbuddy

The squad nodded, but Asher could already tell he wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy.

They moved out in formation, trekking through the dense terrain. The journey was tense, each step echoing in the quiet. The deeper they went, the stronger Asher’s unease became. The world around them felt… wrong.

Then they reached the outpost.

It was exactly as described—empty. Too empty.

Buildings stood intact, weapons and supplies scattered as if abandoned in a hurry. The air was thick with the metallic scent of old blood, but there were no bodies. No signs of a battle. No tracks leading away.

"This isn’t right," Herman muttered, gripping his whip.

"Spread out," Renard ordered. "Check for any documents, recordings—anything that tells us what happened."

Asher entered one of the main structures, his gaze sweeping the interior. Desks overturned, papers scattered. A flickering console at the far end caught his eye. He moved toward it, fingers tapping across the damaged screen.

A broken log entry played.

"Phase One… successful. Core has been… delivered. Tracking system is… operational."

Asher’s blood ran cold.

Before he could react, the air behind him shimmered. A spatial distortion.

Visit ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

He turned just as the Trojan Core’s runes flared to life.

And the portal opened.

A deep hum reverberated through the abandoned outpost as the Trojan Core activated, its intricate runes pulsing with an eerie green glow. Asher barely had a moment to process before the distortion expanded, warping the very fabric of space.

A gateway had formed.

"Asher! Get out of there!" Myria’s voice rang out through his earpiece, but it was too late.

From within the portal, dark figures emerged—Metis warriors, their chitinous armor gleaming under the flickering lights. Unlike the ones they had fought before, these were different. Stronger. Their movements were unnervingly precise, their crimson eyes locked onto Asher as if they had been expecting him.

It was a trap.

"Asher, fall back!" Renard shouted, but Asher was already moving.

He lunged backward, narrowly avoiding the first strike as a Metis warrior swiped at him with razor-sharp claws. The sheer force of the attack sent splinters flying from the ruined console. Without hesitation, Asher activated his Sanguine Supreme, his aura flaring to life with crimson energy.

Lightning crackled around him as he retaliated, his fist colliding with the nearest warrior’s armor. The impact sent a shockwave through the building, but the Metis barely staggered. Instead, it grinned—a terrifying, inhuman expression.

"They’re absorbing kinetic force!" Asher realized too late.

The next attack came in an instant. A Metis warrior struck him square in the chest, sending him crashing through a wall and into the open courtyard. Dust and debris rained down as he forced himself to stand, blood dripping from his temple.

The squad was already engaging.

Renard and Herman fought side by side, using coordinated strikes to keep the warriors at bay. Herman’s whip lashed out, wrapping around one enemy’s leg before he amplified its weight, sending the Metis crashing into the ground. Renard followed up with a precise, lightning-infused strike, piercing through its exposed joint.

Myria, moving like a phantom, weaved between enemies, her twin daggers coated in shimmering blue fire. Each slash left burning marks on their armor, her attacks targeting their weak points with terrifying accuracy.

But the Metis weren’t just attacking blindly.

They were Copying.

One warrior suddenly mimicked Renard’s lightning strike, its body surging with electrical energy as it countered his attack. Another Metis, after barely dodging Myria’s flames, shifted—its exoskeleton darkening as if to resist the heat.

Asher’s mind raced. This wasn’t a standard attack force. These Metis weren’t just strong—they were learning. Evolving.

"We can’t fight them head-on for long!" he called out. "They’re countering everything too quickly!"

Renard gritted his teeth. "Then we change tactics. Myria, with me! Herman, support!"

The squad adjusted, shifting into defensive positions, but Asher’s eyes were still on the portal.

It hadn’t closed.

And something else was coming through.

The air grew heavy as a towering figure stepped through the rift. Unlike the others, its presence alone sent a chill down Asher’s spine. This was no ordinary warrior.

The Metis Commander had arrived.

Its blackened armor glowed faintly with engraved runes, each pulse sending waves of pressure across the battlefield. A low, guttural voice resonated from within its helm.

"You took what belongs to us."

Asher clenched his fists, crimson energy crackling around him. He could feel it—the sheer power radiating from the commander.