AP(EX) Technomancer

Inside the Bastion, the tension was electric. Holographic interfaces displayed the chaotic battlefield, every movement analyzed and predicted in real time.

Atlas's voice crackled through the comms. "You sure about this setup, Noah? It feels like you're over-preparing. These are just seniors… not assassins."

I leaned against the console inside the Aegis Bastion, fingers gliding across the holographic controls. "It's not about over-preparing. It's about making a statement."

"A statement?" he echoed, amused.

"They'll think twice before underestimating us again," I replied, my tone flat but loaded. Atlas chuckled, probably imagining the chaos I was about to unleash.

Atlas's voice broke through the static. "Two of them already headed straight for us. Another three will approach in 3 minutes tops. You ready?"

I smirked. "Always."

As the seniors approached, the Bastion's defenses roared to life. Turrets swiveled, locking onto their targets with laser precision. The energy barrier flared, absorbing the brunt of their initial assault. 

Shock rippled across their faces as they took in the sight of the Aegis Bastion, standing ominously before them like an unyielding sentinel of war. 

Its sleek, dome-shaped structure glimmered with faint blue energy lines, turrets tracking their every movement with eerie precision. The ground around them was scorched and scarred, evidence of the Vanguard Strikers' earlier onslaught.

"Damn it! Nobody told me we're fighting a fort full of sentinels and turrets!" one of the seniors shouted, his voice tinged with panic. His once-pristine uniform was torn, his hair disheveled and matted with sweat. The others looked equally battered, their expressions grim as they tried to assess their options.

Another senior, wielding a glaive crackling with energy, spat angrily, "Are you sure these are rookies? They seem pretty damn experienced in warfare to me!"

I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face, hidden behind the tactical holo-display I had set up in the Bastion's command center. 

From here, I could monitor every movement of the enemy. Years of playing military strategy games in my previous life had finally paid off.

"Rookies?" I muttered to myself, my tone laced with amusement. "Maybe. But underestimating me is your first mistake."

"Keep your formation tight!" barked the leader of the seniors. He was trying to regain control, but his voice betrayed his mounting frustration.

"Formation won't save you," I murmured, fingers gliding over the holographic interface. With a thought, I activated the EMP Countermeasures.

The air crackled as an electromagnetic pulse radiated outward, disrupting the seniors' communication devices and disorienting their tech-reliant gear. Their movements grew sluggish, their attacks less coordinated.

One of them cursed loudly, slamming his now-useless wrist communicator. "They're cutting us off! Who are these guys?!"

From my vantage point, I couldn't resist adding to their confusion. Tapping into the audio feed, I spoke in a calm, measured tone through the Bastion's external speakers, amplifying my voice across the battlefield.

"Welcome to the game," I said, my words dripping with confidence. "You've entered my domain. Let's see how long you last."

The seniors froze, their eyes darting around in search of the source of my voice.

"Who the hell is that?!" one of them shouted.

"Does it matter?" another replied, clearly unnerved. "Just focus on surviving!"

One of them, a pyrokinetic, hurled a massive fireball that collided with the shield, sending ripples of energy across its surface.

"Impressive firepower," I said, "but that's not enough to bring the fort down."

Meanwhile, Atlas was in his element, perched atop one of the Bastion's turrets with a predator's grin plastered across his face. His new weapon, the Phantom Weaver, glimmered faintly in his hands, its sleek, obsidian-like surface adorned with faintly glowing etchings.

"I told you this baby was fire," he muttered, lining up his next shot.

The Phantom Weaver was no ordinary rifle. It was an S Rank, upgraded by me from an A rank Mecha Rifle to a stealth-based energy weapon, firing projectiles of condensed plasma cloaked in a phase-shift field, making them invisible to both the naked eye and most tracking systems. 

The moment the trigger was pulled, the only indication of the attack was the faint hum of the weapon—and the devastation left in its wake.

Atlas had already claimed two victims.

The first senior hadn't even seen it coming. One moment, he was mid-sprint toward the Bastion, and the next, his body had disintegrated into ash, the air where he stood shimmering with residual heat.

The second had been a bit more cautious, keeping to the shadows, but Phantom Weaver's targeting system wasn't fooled. The stealth ammo had found its mark, the shot carving cleanly through the target's defensive barrier before vaporizing him on the spot.

"Two for two," Atlas said with a chuckle, twirling the rifle dramatically. "Who's next?"

The remaining seniors were visibly shaken, their eyes darting nervously as they struggled to locate the source of the attacks.

"Where's that fire coming from?!" one of them shouted, panic edging his voice.

The turrets then roared to life, unleashing a relentless barrage of glowing plasma bolts. The energy lit up the battlefield, forcing the seniors to scatter and retreat behind whatever cover they could find. The ground around them sizzled and sparked as the bolts struck, leaving scorched craters in their wake.

"Fall back! Regroup!" the leader yelled, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Seeing their disarray, I smirked and tapped into the Bastion's drone control system.

With a thought, two more Recon Drones launched from the Bastion's arsenal. Their sleek, aerodynamic forms glided effortlessly through the air, their engines emitting a faint hum.

"Let's crank up the pressure," I muttered, activating their Advanced Targeting Systems.

The drones shot forward, weaving between the scattered seniors with dizzying speed. Their onboard AI locked onto targets with precision, emitting bursts of concentrated energy that forced the attackers out of their cover. 

One senior narrowly dodged a blast, rolling to the side as the energy beam seared the ground where he'd just been.

"These aren't just machines!" one of them shouted, panting. "They're hunting us!"

"Exactly," I said quietly, watching the chaos unfold through the Bastion's holographic feed.

I chuckled under my breath, watching as they struggled to regroup.

By the time the dust settled, the seniors were either incapacitated or retreating. The battlefield was littered with scorch marks and the remains of failed attempts to breach my defenses. 

Some of the rookies who had been observing from a distance began to fall back as well. The navigation map flickered to life, showing the fractured alliance splintering in real-time. Their formation had completely faltered, and chaos spread as they scattered.

One by one, they fled in different directions, retreating far from our location, leaving their comrades behind.

The Codebreaker system chimed again, a soft sound that carried immense satisfaction.

[System Notification:]

[Mission Complete]

Reward: Data Crystal x 2, EX Skill Blueprint (Advanced Drone Manipulation)

Atlas dropped his stealth mode, his face split into a wide grin. "That… was insane. They never stood a chance."

I leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "They weren't supposed to. This was just a warm-up."

He raised an eyebrow. "A warm-up? For what?"

The holographic map shifted, revealing a larger, more complex battlefield beyond our current position. I stared at it, my mind already working through the possibilities.

"For what's coming next," I said, my voice steady.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of something I hadn't in years: anticipation.