The Transmigrated Author-Chapter 287: Central City (2)

[Location: Present Day, Central City - ???]

Three figures wearing gas masks sit around a worn wooden table.

Their once-pristine clothing is now tattered and stained with a mixture of dirt, blood, and unidentifiable substances that speak of hard-fought battles and narrow escapes.

Despite their disheveled appearance, there's an air of calm competence about them as they cleaned their weapons and checked out their supplies.

"MMHHHM!"

"Will you shut him up already?" Anouz growled, adjusting his gas mask and glaring at the source of the muffled but persistent noise coming from the corner of the room.

"He's been at it for hours."

In the corner, bound to a sturdy chair with elaborate knots and glowing anti-magic rope, Louise writhes and struggles.

His normally immaculate appearance is in disarray—hair matted with sweat, eyes wide with fury above the gag secured tightly across his mouth.

Despite his restraints, he managed to rock the chair violently enough to create a constant, irritating thumping against the floorboards.

"I've tried everything short of knocking him unconscious,"

Christian replied with a sigh, pulling his mask up just enough to wipe sweat from his brow.

"And we agreed that was a last resort."

Rel, seated between them, methodically disassembles and cleans a strange mechanical device that looks like a cross between a compass and a pocket watch.

"He'll tire himself out eventually," Rel says without looking up from his work.

"In the meantime, consider it good practice for maintaining focus under distraction."

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Louise's incessant struggling had worn on all their nerves for hours now.

The chair legs scraped against the wooden floor with each violent thrash, creating a sound of frustration that echoed through their hideout.

"For the love of—" Anouz threw down the cloth he'd been using to clean his massive Iron Mace.

"I swear I'm going to knock him out if he doesn't stop soon."

Christian leaned back against the wall, his expression hidden behind his mask but the exhaustion evident in his slumped shoulders.

"We can't risk moving him yet," Rel said, looking up from the mechanical device in his hands.

"And we can't let him go either. Not after what we saw."

The room fell silent for Louise's muffled protests.

It was a modest space—a single room with basic amenities they'd cobbled together over the past few months.

A kitchenette occupied one corner, a bathroom door stood ajar in another, and three makeshift beds were pushed against the walls. Maps and diagrams covered nearly every inch of the remaining wall space, each marked with notes and symbols in Rel's precise handwriting.

"Those robots keep coming," Christian said, changing the subject.

"And each wave is stronger than the last. It's like they're learning from every encounter."

Rel nodded grimly.

"That's exactly what they're doing." He set down his device and moved to one of the maps.

"Remember that skirmish three weeks ago? When we left in a hurry and didn't completely destroy the units?"

"The next batch came with reinforced plating in the exact spots we'd targeted before." Anouz groaned.

"Exactly," Rel tapped the map.

"They're collecting samples from their fallen units, analyzing our attack patterns, and adapting. We need to be more thorough—leave nothing behind for them to study."

"Complete destruction," Christian mused.

"That's going to require more energy on our part."

"Better than facing increasingly difficult opponents," Rel countered.

"If we don't change our approach, eventually they'll develop countermeasures we can't overcome."

Louise's chair tipped dangerously to one side before righting itself, drawing their attention back to their captive.

"Why did we bring him here again?" Anouz asked, glaring at Louise.

Rel sighed. "Because he was about to walk into a trap, and despite his... personality issues, we need him alive."

"Could've fooled me," Christian muttered. "He's been nothing but trouble since we grabbed him."

The memory of Louise's rescue was still fresh in their minds. They'd spotted him near one of the Soul Forger's outposts, clearly unaware of the danger he was in.

The ambush they'd prevented would have resulted in his capture or death—neither of which Rel would've preferred in the direction of the story.

Rel carefully fitted the final component onto his device, tightening a small screw with meticulous precision.

The mechanism whirred softly as its intricate gears aligned.

ERRRR!!!

Just as he was about to close the casing, a shrill sound cut through the air—a high-pitched siren wailing in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

Anouz and Christian immediately leapt to their feet, exchanging knowing glances.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Rel nodded, carefully setting the device down on the table.

"Someone's tripped the perimeter alarm in sector seven. They're here."

"Finally," Anouz exhaled, a mixture of relief and anticipation in his voice as he hefted his massive mace.

"I was starting to think they'd never make it."

"The timing couldn't be better," Rel said, rising from his chair.

He glanced at Louise, who had momentarily ceased his struggling to listen.

"We've prepared for this moment for months. Everything we've done—the reconnaissance, the maps, the safe routes—it's all been leading to this."

Christian strapped a bandolier of small, glowing orbs across his chest. "So the real work begins now?"

"Yes," Rel confirmed, pulling on his combat gloves. "Finding the others was always the first step. Now we can finally start dismantling Richard's operation from the inside."

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"Thank god," Anouz muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I was getting tired of just surviving in this hellhole."

The three exchanged a final look—a silent acknowledgment of everything they'd been through together and everything that lay ahead. Then, with practiced efficiency, they moved toward the door.

"Keep an eye on our surroundings," Rel instructed as they stepped out. "We don't know who might have followed them."

The door closed behind them with a solid thud, leaving Louise alone in the sudden quietness of the room.

He remained still for several seconds, listening to their retreating footsteps.

Once he was certain they were gone, he began working on his escape.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that might aid his escape.

There—half-hidden beneath Christian's cot—was a shard of metal that had broken off one of their weapons during maintenance.

Louise rocked his chair violently, inching it closer to the bed with each movement.

When he finally reached it, he contorted his body, stretching his bound hands as far as they would go.

His fingers brushed against the metal shard, pushing it further away.

Cursing silently behind his gag, he tried again, this time managing to hook it with his pinky finger.

With trembling fingers, Louise grasped the metal shard, carefully maneuvering it to begin sawing at his bindings.

The ropes were sturdy, but the edge of the metal was surprisingly sharp.

After 30 minutes he had finally freed himself from the chair.

"I'm going to kill those fuckers!"

SHAAAA!