Unholy Player Chapter 539 Foreign Memories

"Shall we continue our conversation inside, in a calmer environment?"

Henry suggested, guiding the party toward the elevators before ascending to the frosty chamber on the building's uppermost level, reserved specifically for visitors of this sort.

This space served more than just containment now. The sturdy, fortified barriers remained intact, yet it had evolved beyond mere imprisonment.

In recent months, enhancements had transformed the area. Integrated armaments now formed part of its framework, designed to counterattack in desperate final measures.

Doubts lingered about its potency against Rank 4 Practitioners or the extent of harm it might inflict. Nevertheless, it surpassed the futility of facing an adversary's crushing might without recourse. At minimum, it offered a chance to resist.

Henry entered the elevator alongside the two Blood Path Practitioners, joined by Zephan and Liora. They descended one level, the doors sealing with a soft clunk.

Selina, Rhys, and a multitude of soldiers in white attire stayed back on the helipad.

"Evacuation complete?" Rhys inquired, turning toward Selina.

"The headquarters structure and nearby districts are emptied." Selina consulted her wrist device as real-time feeds updated. "All non-combatants and personnel have exited."

Rhys kept his face impassive. His attention shifted to the disciplined ranks of soldiers encircling them. "We should evacuate these forces too."

These white-clad warriors weren't standard infantry. Each had been carefully selected from STF ranks and unsuccessful Players.

They represented the elite, formed for a singular objective.

To hone their abilities and ready them for eventual awakenings.

Similar to Rhys, each possessed the capability to reach Rank 3 Practitioner status upon awakening. This rendered them invaluable to humankind, unfit to squander against such perils.

Selina shared his view. She issued the order, and transport craft swooped in successive waves. They departed in measured salvos, ferrying the soldiers from the helipad until the formations dissolved.

Before long, just the two leaders lingered. They held position on the helipad, upholding their duty. Should complications arise below, they had to secure an exit for Henry.

Following several hushed moments, Selina eyed Rhys once more. "So... what's it like?" Rhys met her gaze, arching a brow. "What's what like?"

"Bearing his Path." Her interest shone through plainly. "Following something Adyr forged."

Among a select few, she knew Adyr had devised a Path. She understood too that he slumbered presently, recovering his vital essence.

Yet details eluded her regarding the Path's nature or its impact on bearers.

Rhys fielded such queries routinely. Researchers posed comparable ones nearly daily. He replied with his standard response.

"It's terrible."

Selina blinked. "Terrible how?"

Rhys drew in a steadying breath. Instinctively, his fingers sought the pocket in his uniform for the comforting outline of his flask. Tension crossed his features as he recalled leaving it behind in his quarters this morning.

"I've been dreaming. Far too often."

Selina's eyes narrowed keenly. "Dreaming about what?" She noted the profound distress etched from his nocturnal visions. For a Rank 3 Practitioner, rest held little necessity now, particularly for Rhys. His [Resilience] attribute fortified both physique and psyche, allowing brief repose to dispel weariness. Still, slumber persisted as a lingering custom he hadn't fully abandoned. "My past." His stare wandered skyward, white irises reflecting the drifting pale clouds. "Relived memories. As if I'm experiencing them anew."

He paused briefly, then pressed on.

"Yet some feel... off. I awaken and details escape me. Or fragments linger, defying logic."

Selina remained silent, granting him space to elaborate.

Rhys faltered, grasping at shards he could articulate. "In those visions, I'm not myself. Merely an observer. As though peering through another's sight."

Selina observed the deepening crease on his brow. A faint quiver affected even his gaze. The burden was palpable.

"You suspect they're his?" she ventured. "Adyr's?"

Rhys turned to her, his response laced with resentment. "I hope not."

Enduring mere glimpses of such recollections proved harrowing, and often they faded beyond recall or comprehension.

Thus, the notion that another had endured it all firsthand, burdened by authentic reminiscences, was a fate he'd spare from all.

Exiting the elevator, the assembly traversed the extended hallway until reaching a massive portal.

The drone advanced and paused at the interface. It lingered motionless, seemingly awaiting clearance.

Suddenly, the panels parted with a piercing chime, unveiling the figure within.

"Thank you for coming." Henry Bates welcomed his visitors courteously.

He inclined his head modestly, extending due courtesy. "Permit a formal introduction. I'm Henry Bates, acting as the City's representative during our Ruler's absence."

Arvyn, and Kaelor in particular, regarded him with odd expressions.

The entity they'd conversed with via the drone now manifested as a commonplace human, catching them off guard, like the voice emerging from circuitry to inhabit mortal form.

Far from dismaying Kaelor, it sparked the contrary.

His eyes fixed on Henry with anticipation. "Are you a Creator?"

A Creator needn't embody machinery; any possessing the gift to birth life from alloys sufficed.

Henry grasped the Mechari's hopes and motivations, responding evenly without delay. "Regrettably, I'm not the individual you seek." He kept it concise. "Rest assured, I'll arrange an encounter shortly."

He envisioned displaying the fabrication facility for drones and transports would suffice to captivate him. For the present, he urged patience with decorum.

The Mechari refrained from pressing. Having pursued this meeting across lifetimes, a brief deferral posed no issue, especially to uphold etiquette. "Please enter. I sense we have much to address and deliberate."

He ushered them in and secured the entrance, enclosing all. The chamber proved basic and compact, featuring four plain surfaces and a lone central table encircled by inviting seats.

The climate felt balanced, and insulation against noise bordered on eerie. Silence reigned so profoundly that pulses echoed audibly. The atmosphere bore no aromas, circulated solely with pristine oxygen devoid of impurities. This sterile void evoked a profound serenity bordering on surreal calm.

Though this realm diverged sharply from Earth, and the arrivals hailed from alien societies with distinct norms, Henry excelled in diplomacy. He seized command of the session at once.

"Choose any chair." He claimed the table's forefront, settling where all faces lay in view. "Settle in comfortably." Henry bypassed formal protocols. Despite his mortal status, he seated himself prior to his Rank 4 visitors, prompting a brief scowl from Arvyn.

She alone displayed irritation, though she concealed it swiftly. Eventually, she claimed her place.

Having witnessed ample evidence of this species' might, she recognized their prowess. Thus, even toward a non-Practitioner, prudence dictated restraining her ire.

With all settled, Henry upheld his role as guide and authority. He dove straight in, eschewing preliminaries.

"So, would you care to explain your motives for aligning with this Blood Sect, or whatever it's called?"

His approach aimed to gauge the visitors initially—their aspirations and essences—so tailored incentives could later sway them.

Kaelor spoke first. He launched into his account without pause.

He described his people's plight, their craving for Creators to bolster numbers, delving deeply, even outlining Mechari origins and lifestyles.

His zeal to encounter a Creator bordered on frenzy, compelling full disclosure of all pertinent details, unmarred by omissions or deceit.

Upon conclusion, with Henry deeming his insights ample, the floor shifted to Arvyn.

And as her words flowed, a singular term crystallized in every mind, perfectly suiting her.

Insanity...