Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 170: The Bandits of The Lost Cities

At Jax’s command, the massive convoy surged forward.

The deafening roar of hundreds of heavy diesel engines echoed off the skeletal remains of the ruined metropolis. Jax rode in the passenger seat of the lead scout vehicle, his eyes wide with fascination as they pushed deeper into the urban decay.

He saw rusted billboards, shattered storefronts, and collapsed highway overpasses. It was a haunting graveyard of the pre-Apocalypse world, and for Jax, it was a surreal reminder of the Earth he had left behind.

The other men in the cab were equally mesmerized, pressing their faces against the reinforced glass.

“Look at that mural on the side of that building,” Silas pointed. “That woman is gorgeous. How the hell is the paint still intact after all these years?”

“This architecture is incredible,” Gareth murmured. “It’s a damn shame it’s just rotting out here. Imagine if we could clear this place out and fortify it.”

“Hey, check out that rusted chassis over there,” a driver chimed in. “That’s the exact same model they use in Redrock Bastion. What a waste. Think we can tow it back?”

“Forget it,” Silas scoffed. “If a nest of Acid-Web Arachnids crawls out of the trunk, we’re all dead. Look at the skywalk connecting those two towers. Insane.”

While the crew marveled at the ruins, the veteran navigator in the driver’s seat was gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

Something was deeply, fundamentally wrong. They had been driving at top speed through the heart of The Lost Cities for over ten minutes, and they hadn’t seen a single insect.

“This isn’t right. This is too quiet,” the navigator muttered, his eyes darting frantically between the alleys and shattered windows. “Even without the radiation, these ruins should be crawling with low-tier bugs. There isn’t even a cockroach out there.”

Jax heard the man’s muttering and frowned. He was right. In the wasteland, abandoned human settlements were prime real estate for the Swarm. The complete absence of life in a heavily structured environment was terrifying. It meant something was keeping the lesser Swarms away.

Jax considered calling a halt to investigate, but the convoy was already too deep inside the city limits. Turning a thousand-man column around in these narrow streets would be a logistical nightmare. The only way out was through.

Suddenly, the navigator slammed on the brakes.

“Brace!” he screamed.

Jax threw his hands against the dashboard as the heavy scout vehicle skidded across the cracked asphalt, the massive tires screaming as they locked up.

Behind them, a chain reaction of violent braking tore down the line. Transports slammed into each other, and the unsecured miners in the troop carriers were thrown violently to the floor, cursing and groaning in pain.

“What the hell was that?!” a miner yelled from the back. “Did we hit a Swarm?!”

“I don’t see any bugs! Everyone stay alert!”

Jax shoved his door open and stepped out onto the asphalt. He immediately saw why the navigator had panic-braked.

Stretching across the entire width of the avenue, completely blocking their path, was a massive, custom-built spike strip.

This wasn’t a standard police stinger. It was a brutal, industrial-grade barricade. Hundreds of sharpened, thirty-centimeter steel rebars had been driven deep into the asphalt and anchored with a thick layer of freshly poured concrete. If the convoy had hit that at top speed, the lead vehicles would have been shredded, causing a catastrophic pileup that would have killed dozens.

Jax crouched down, running a finger over the tip of a sharpened rebar. This is a trap.

CRACK!

A high-caliber gunshot echoed through the concrete canyon.

Jax didn’t even flinch. A split second later, a bullet sparked off the asphalt mere inches from his boot.

He slowly stood up, tracing the trajectory of the shot to a shattered window on the third floor of an adjacent office building. The dark barrel of a sniper rifle protruded from the shadows, aimed dead at his chest.

“Kill your engines!” a voice boomed from a hidden loudspeaker. “Step out of your vehicles and leave the food and Supplies! Do it now, and you get to walk away!”

Jax’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t an Insect Swarm; this was an organized bandit syndicate. They had clearly fortified this sector of The Lost Cities, using the ruins to ambush merchant caravans and supply trains.

The gunshot sent the convoy into a panic. Miners scrambled back into the armored transports, desperately searching for the sparse weaponry they had been issued.

All around them, figures began appearing in the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers. Dozens of armed bandits stepped out of the shadows, leveling rifles, heavy machine guns, and rocket launchers down at the trapped convoy. They had the high ground, and they had been waiting.

“Hey, brothers up there!” Gareth yelled from behind a transport door. “We’re just passing through! No need to make this a bloodbath!”

In response, a hidden trapdoor built into the center of the concrete spike strip suddenly flipped open.

A man climbed out of the subterranean tunnel, dusting off his leather jacket. He was of average build, with striking, silver-dyed hair and a lit cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. He walked with an arrogant, loose-limbed swagger, completely unafraid of the massive convoy in front of him.

He stopped a few feet from Jax, looking him up and down.

“Where are you boys from?” the silver-haired man asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I haven’t seen your colors before.”

“We’re from The Sprawl,” Jax replied evenly. “We’re on a tight schedule, pushing through to Iron Mountain. Can you clear the barricade and let us pass?”

“The Sprawl?” The man raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. “Well, that’s a first. Usually, it’s the fat cats from Redrock Bastion rolling through my tollbooth. You Sprawl boys have some serious balls driving through here. Did you not know whose territory this is?”

Ignoring Jax, the man sauntered past him and casually ripped open the canvas tarp of a nearby supply truck.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the neatly stacked crates of emergency rations and purified water.

“Well, well, well! A fat sheep indeed!” the man laughed, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “You boys are either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Doesn’t matter to me! Boys! Get down here and start unloading the cargo! Let them leave with their lives!”

Ropes dropped from the surrounding buildings, and heavily armed bandits began repelling down to the street level, moving to secure the convoy.

Jax stepped forward, his hand shooting out to grab the silver-haired man’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

“I’m sorry,” Jax said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But you aren’t touching that food.”

The man looked down at Jax’s hand, then slowly met his gaze. A vicious, psychotic glint flared in his eyes.

“Nobody touches me,” the man hissed. “Even the elites from Redrock Bastion don’t have the spine to look me in the eye. You want to die over some rations?”

“I am the City Lord of The Sprawl,” Jax stated, his grip tightening until the man’s bones creaked. “And I said you aren’t taking a single grain of rice.”

“You’re courting death!” the man roared, ripping his arm free and drawing a heavy hand-cannon from his hip.

BANG!

Before the bandit could even raise his weapon, a high-velocity Armor-Piercing Round tore out from the convoy behind Jax.

The bullet grazed the top of the bandit’s head, instantly incinerating a patch of his silver hair and shattering the concrete wall behind him.

The man froze, the hand-cannon hovering halfway to Jax’s chest. He slowly lowered the gun, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple.

“Alright,” the bandit breathed, forcing a tight smile. “I didn’t realize you were packing heavy hitters. But even if your sniper drops me, my boys will turn this convoy into a slaughterhouse. You aren’t leaving this street alive.”

“I assume you’re the Boss around here,” Jax said coldly. “Tell your men to stand down and clear the barricade. If you don’t, you die first. And honestly, I don’t think your crew has the firepower to back up your threats.”

As Jax spoke, the heavy armored plating on the sides of the troop transports simultaneously slammed open.

The bandits up in the windows suddenly realized they weren’t aiming at terrified merchants. The transports were packed with elite, heavily armed Awakened. Hundreds of assault rifles, heavy ordnance, and glowing elemental abilities were suddenly trained directly on the ambushers.

The silver-haired man swallowed hard. He had drastically miscalculated.

“You… you really don’t know how things work around here,” the bandit stammered, trying to regain his swagger. “This is The Lost Cities. Everyone knows the name Vance. I suggest you reconsider starting a war in my backyard.”

“I don’t care who you are, Vance,” Jax said, not breaking eye contact. “And I’m not interested in negotiating.”

Jax raised his voice, calling back to the convoy. “Elena! Keep your crosshairs on his skull. If he twitches, blow his head off!”

“Copy that,” Elena’s voice drifted back from the armored transport, sounding almost bored.

She had been riding in the tactical overwatch position the entire trip, serving as Jax’s hidden ace. She had anticipated an ambush the moment they hit the city limits, and she was more than ready to pull the trigger.