Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 159: Glorious Return Home

Director Qin glanced down the dim corridor toward the heavy steel door where Victor was currently confined.

“This Victor… he claims he’s an official envoy looking for Jax,” Qin mused, stroking his beard. “He’s obviously carrying terms from Governor Niu. Do you think we should let him see Jax?”

Sawyer shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. Qin, you know exactly what Redrock Bastion’s endgame is. They voted to let us die so they could scavenge our remains. If Victor gets to Jax and offers him an astronomical buyout, what do we do? We lose Jax, we lose our defense grid, and we lose the city. Jax is the only hope we have left.”

Qin let out a heavy sigh, the weight of leadership settling on his shoulders.

“I know that, Sawyer. But… can we realistically afford to cut off Redrock Bastion entirely? Our supply lines are nonexistent. I just audited the emergency food reserves of the major families. At strict rationing, we can sustain the population for three months. What happens on day ninety-one? If we declare total independence from Redrock, we starve.”

Sawyer’s expression darkened. He hadn’t considered the long-term logistics of feeding a city.

“But even if we let Victor negotiate and we beg Redrock for supply lines, we’re right back where we started,” Sawyer argued. “We’ll be their puppets again. Don’t forget how easily they threw us to the swarm!”

“Sigh… to break away completely is a terrifying prospect,” Qin admitted. “If we hold the line against Redrock, where do we get our grain?”

“What if we pool the capital of the major families and buy directly from the source?” Sawyer proposed. “We bypass Redrock completely and establish a direct trade route with Northport.”

Qin stared at him. “Northport? Sawyer, the trade route to Northport cuts straight through a dozen Forgotten Cities. It’s a logistical nightmare. I don’t need to tell you how high the mortality rate is for caravans on that road.”

Sawyer fell silent. He knew Qin was right. Even if they had mountains of Cores to spend, the credits were useless if the caravans were slaughtered by mutated horrors before they reached the coast.

The two men stood in tense silence, their minds racing for a solution.

Suddenly, Qin’s eyes lit up.

“We need to accelerate the timeline,” Qin said, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “We hold the City Lord election today. We crown Jax, making him the absolute legal authority of The Sprawl. We bind him to us. Only after he is sworn in do we let him meet Victor.”

Sawyer slapped his forehead. “Brilliant! Yes! We lock him in before Redrock can tempt him. I refuse to believe Redrock will offer him a blank check and total autonomy like we are.”

“Exactly,” Qin nodded. “Once Jax is legally tied to The Sprawl, Redrock won’t dare assassinate him or launch a direct military strike. It would violate the frontier treaties. If we legitimize our independence now, we can petition Northport for official recognition and secure a protected trade route!”

“Done. Let’s move,” Sawyer said, already turning down the hall. “I’ll go to Sector 33 and retrieve Jax. You rally the families and the civilian reps. Get the plaza prepped for a public election. We do this now.”

Sawyer paused, throwing a dark look back at the welded door. “And Victor?”

“Let him rot in the dark for a few more hours,” Qin sneered. “Slide some water and protein paste under the door. As long as he’s isolated, he can’t poison the well.”

Out in Sector 33, Jax was caught in a frustrating waiting game. He had built the nine new mining outposts, but upgrading them required a massive influx of raw materials. Since the daily yield of the mines was capped by the System, all he could do was sit back and wait for the drones to do their work.

Just as he was preparing to run a perimeter check, a sleek, armored transport rover tore up the valley road and skidded to a halt near the Bastion gates.

Jax recognized the chassis. As the gull-wing doors hissed open, Sawyer stepped out.

“Brother Sawyer,” Jax greeted him, raising an eyebrow. “What brings you out to the sticks? Is there a problem at the city?”

Sawyer flashed a wide, entirely too-enthusiastic smile. “Jax! Good news! It’s about that little proposal we discussed. We fast-tracked the paperwork. Today is Election Day! The entire city is gathering in the central plaza right now to vote for the new City Lord. I came out here specifically to serve as your escort.”

Jax blinked, taken aback. “Today? I thought we were going to wait until the Insect Swarm was fully neutralized and the city was stabilized. Isn’t this incredibly rushed?”

“Rushed? Not at all!” Sawyer insisted, waving his hands dismissively. “There’s no time like the present! The people need a leader now. Come on, get in the rover. We can’t keep the voters waiting!”

Before Jax could argue, Elena walked out onto the platform, wiping her hands on a towel after hanging up some laundry. She leaned over the railing, looking down at the rover.

“Mr. Sawyer,” Elena called out, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Are you here to drag our glorious leader to his new desk job in The Sprawl?”

Jax shot her a withering glare before turning back to Sawyer with an apologetic wince. “Haha. Ignore her, Brother Sawyer. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We haven’t even held the election yet! Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. It’s a fair democratic process, right? Anyone could win.”

Sawyer maintained his plastered-on smile. In reality, the “election” was a complete farce. The civilian representatives had already been heavily bribed or coerced, and the rival candidates were literally paid actors told to lose gracefully. But Sawyer knew Jax wanted the illusion of a legitimate, democratic mandate, so he played along.

“Of course, of course! A fair and open election,” Sawyer lied smoothly. He looked up at Elena and the rest of the crew gathering on the platform. “Actually, I have plenty of room in the transport. Why don’t you all come along? You can cast your votes and watch the ceremony.”

Hearing this, the crew’s eyes lit up. They all turned to look at Jax, practically vibrating with excitement.

Jax sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Everyone gets the day off. Go pack your go-bags. We’re taking a field trip to the city. But I’m warning you all right now—if I don’t win this ‘election,’ I don’t want to hear a single word of complaint. And keep a low profile!”

Elena rolled her eyes at his false modesty. She clapped her hands loudly, turning to the crew.

“You heard the man! Stop standing around like idiots! Go grab your gear so we can go watch our boss become a warlord!”

The crew erupted into cheers.

“Hell yes! I’ve been waiting for this!”

“Boss! When you win, do we get official titles? I want to be a General!”

“Shut up and pack, Gareth!”

As the crew scrambled to get ready, Sawyer leaned against the rover, hiding a knowing smirk. Jax was putting on a great show of reluctance, but Sawyer knew he was ready to take the throne.

As Jax walked down to the rover, Sawyer grimaced at Jax’s attire. Jax was wearing his standard wasteland gear—faded cargo pants, a scuffed tactical vest, and heavy combat boots.

“Brother,” Sawyer said delicately, popping the trunk of the rover. “You’re attending a formal inauguration… I mean, election. You can’t show up looking like a scavenger.”

Sawyer pulled a sleek, garment bag from the trunk and handed it over.

Jax let out a long, theatrical sigh. “See, this is why I didn’t want the job. The dress code. Fine, I’ll put on the monkey suit. I wouldn’t want to embarrass my campaign manager.”

Jax ducked behind the rover to change. When he emerged, even Sawyer was impressed.

The suit was a dark, charcoal grey with subtle ballistic threading woven into the fabric. It was sharply tailored, accentuating Jax’s lean, athletic build. With his short, neat hair and confident posture, the transformation was jarring. He no longer looked like a wasteland drifter; he looked exactly like a City Lord.

“Brother Sawyer, I have to admit, this fits perfectly,” Jax said, adjusting his cuffs. “Like it was custom-made.”

Sawyer just smiled. It was custom-made. The top tailor in the core zone had drafted the pattern strictly from surveillance footage of Jax’s combat movements.

When the crew finally piled out of the Bastion, they stopped dead in their tracks.

Elena slowly walked circles around Jax, her eyes raking up and down his tailored suit. She crossed her arms, resting her chin on one hand, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Well, well. I have to admit,” she teased, “if you squint really hard, you almost look like a civilized human being.”

Jax shot her a flat look. “If you don’t know how to give a compliment, just keep your mouth shut. No one is going to mistake you for a mute.”

Elena just laughed, her eyes crinkling. They traded insults effortlessly, a comfortable rhythm forged in the wasteland. Despite the harsh words, the underlying affection was obvious to everyone.