Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 175: The Power Plant

Vance led the group toward the rear of the compound, stopping before a heavily reinforced warehouse.

The blast doors were already open.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Armed guards watched like hawks as laborers pushed carts laden with shimmering Cores out of the darkness.

When Jax stepped inside, his eyes widened. Before him lay a veritable mountain of Tier 1 and Tier 2 Cores, piled high like gravel.

“Jesus,” Jax breathed, turning to the scavenger lord. “What are you, a dragon? Or just a glorified pack rat? That is an obscene amount of money to have sitting on a concrete floor.”

Vance smirked, clearly enjoying the look on Jax’s face. “Let’s just say the exchange rate is in my favor. If I converted this pile, it’d be worth over a hundred Tier 4 Cores.”

Jax nodded slowly, walking closer to the heap.

The stockpile was a chaotic mix. Tier 1s glittered alongside the slightly brighter Tier 2s and the occasional Tier 3. Originally, the warehouse had likely been organized, but the sheer volume of low-tier loot had forced them to abandon sorting. Tier 1 and 2 Cores were essentially loose change; only Tier 3s and above were worth the effort of cataloging.

Jax ran a hand through the pile, the crystals clicking together like glass. He turned back to Vance.

“You’re moving this by hand? That’ll take forever. Why don’t I pack it up for you?”

Vance raised an eyebrow, suspicion clouding his features. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? Your pockets aren’t that deep.”

Jax tapped his temple, flashing a confident grin. “Don’t forget, I’m a Psionic Awakener. Manipulation of space is part of the package. If you trust me, I can store this entire mountain in the blink of an eye and carry it out for you.”

Vance hesitated, his expression shifting to awkward reluctance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in the power—Psionics were weird enough to do anything—but he didn’t trust Jax. These “trash” Cores were his life’s savings, the blood and sweat of his brotherhood. If Jax simply walked away with them, Vance would have nowhere to cry.

“I think… we’ll handle the logistics,” Vance said carefully. “I’ll have my men sort and transport them. But enough about money. How exactly do you plan to kill a Tier 7 Parasitic Silkworm? You still haven’t proven you can build anything that can scratch it.”

Jax’s lips curled into a mysterious smile. “Let me worry about the firepower. You mentioned a thermal power plant earlier. Take me there. Now.”

Vance didn’t know what game Jax was playing, but he was already too deep in the partnership to back out. He nodded, suppressing a wave of regret. He was starting to wonder if he’d made a deal with a madman. If Jax got them all killed—or worse, scammed him—he’d be counting Credits in hell.

With a heavy heart, Vance led Jax a kilometer down the road to the industrial sector.

The thermal power plant loomed ahead, dominated by a massive smokestack puffing out thin, pale blue smoke. It was a shadow of its pre-Apocalypse glory, functioning on life support.

“This is the heartbeat of our operation,” Vance explained as they approached the turbine hall. “Back in the day, you’d need four of these to power the city. Now? We’re scraping by. Fossil fuels are gone, so we burn whatever we can scrounge—timber, charcoal, even dried insect carcasses.”

They entered the main hall.

Below the catwalks, a massive boiler was hissing, generating steam to drive the central turbine. Above them, giant gears and fans turned with a slow, rhythmic thrum, converting mechanical energy into a trickle of electricity that hummed through the transmission lines.

Jax leaned over the railing, gauging the output.

It wasn’t bad for a scavenger camp, but for his needs? It was a AA battery when he needed a reactor.

He followed Vance into the central control room. The main display flickered, showing real-time metrics of the plant’s performance. Jax scanned the voltage and amperage readings and let out a disappointed sigh.

The plant was running at a fraction of its capacity—barely idle load for a pre-war facility.

“This won’t work,” Jax said bluntly. “The output is pathetic. It’s barely enough to keep the lights on. If we want to kill that Tier 7 monster, I need real power. Industrial scale.”

Vance stared at him, stunned. “Are you joking? This plant powers our entire manufacturing sector and the residential block! It supports thousands of people! And you’re saying it can’t even run one of your Defense Towers?”

“You don’t understand the tech,” Jax waved him off, his tone dismissive. “I don’t need electricity to run a lightbulb. I need it to feed a weapon system. This…” He gestured at the console. “This is a trickle. I need a flood.”

Jax turned to Vance, his eyes intense. “You mentioned a nuclear power plant. Where is it?”

Vance took a step back, looking at Jax like he had grown a second head. First the warehouse, then the thermal plant, and now he wanted a nuclear reactor? The requests were escalating from greedy to suicidal.

“Look, Jax,” Vance said, his voice hardening. “You need to level with me. Why do you need this much power? And why the Cores? If you don’t give me a straight answer, the cooperation ends here. I’m not leading my men into a meat grinder on a whim.”

Jax saw the resolve in the bandit’s eyes. Vance was done playing games.

“Fine,” Jax chuckled, crossing his arms. “You want the truth? My ultimate weapon, the High-Energy Tesla Tower, is unique. It doesn’t have a fixed damage output.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Its attack power scales directly with the energy you feed it. There is no upper limit. Theoretically, if you give me infinite power, I can one-shot God. If we can tap into a nuclear reactor… that Tier 7 worm doesn’t stand a chance.”

Vance stood there, mouth agape. The concept was alien to him. A weapon with infinite scaling?

“That… that’s impossible,” Vance stammered. “What kind of core device allows for that? I’ve never heard of a tower like that in the history of the Federation.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Jax grinned arrogantly. “Because I’m the only one who has it. Now, stop stalling. Take me to the nuclear plant.”

Despite the excitement bubbling in his chest at the prospect of such a weapon, Vance didn’t move. He looked down, his expression grim.

“What now?” Jax asked, impatient. “I told you the secret. Let’s move.”

“Jax, you don’t get it,” Vance sighed heavily. “If the nuclear plant was retakable, don’t you think we would be living there? It has working walls, intact facilities… it’s a fortress. We want it just as badly as you do.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Vance said, looking Jax dead in the eye, “is that it’s already occupied.”

Jax frowned. “By who? Another gang?”

“By the bugs,” Vance said helplessly. “It’s the Silkworm’s nursery. The Parasitic Silkworm uses the reactor containment domes as its primary hatchery. Every egg it lays gets transported there. That place isn’t just dangerous, Jax. It’s the deadliest square kilometer in the entire Forgotten City.”

Jax felt a cold bucket of water wash over his enthusiasm.

Damn it. The mission target is guarding my only win condition.

He fell silent, weighing the options. A Tier 7 Boss was bad enough. A Tier 7 Boss surrounded by an ocean of hatching elites inside a radioactive heavy industrial zone? That was a nightmare scenario.

But then he looked at the mission timer ticking down in his peripheral vision.

[Penalty: Total Experience Wipe.]

He didn’t have a choice.

“I don’t care,” Jax said finally, his voice steel. “Even if I have to walk into the lion’s den and kick it in the teeth, I’m taking that plant.”

Vance looked at the determination etched on Jax’s face, and for the first time, his skepticism was replaced by a grudging respect.