Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 76: Looking Down on Someone

The lab technicians stood paralyzed, their faces masks of utter bewilderment.

They watched Jax wipe arachnid ichor from his hammer, unable to comprehend what had just happened. A “rookie” had walked in, declared he knew more than their entire department, and then proved it by dismantling a Tier 3 biological tank with a blunt instrument.

“It’s… impossible,” one researcher muttered, clutching his tablet like a lifeline. “We spent months trying to crack that carapace. We barely scratched the paint. How did he know exactly where to hit?”

“And the nerve clusters…” another whispered. “His data wasn’t just accurate; it was perfect. Who is he? He looks like a drifter, but he fights like a veteran.”

“Maybe he’s a covert operative from another faction?”

“Doubt it. If he were a rival, Supervisor Sawyer wouldn’t be treating him like a VIP. Maybe a vassal?”

While the scientists spiraled into conspiracy theories, Vance stood outside the glass, his jaw practically unhinged.

“Strong,” Vance breathed, his soldier’s instinct kicking in. “That spider can bench press a tank. Its armor is rated to withstand heavy artillery. And he just… broke it. With a hammer.”

Sawyer stood beside him, equally stunned but hiding it better. He had expected Jax to struggle. He had even prepared a speech to offer Jax better weaponry once the initial attempt failed.

He hadn’t expected Jax to turn the Tier 3 terror into paste in under two minutes.

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” Sawyer admitted quietly. “But it seems we’ve picked up a treasure.”

Vance leaned in, lowering his voice. “Supervisor… is he a vassal? Someone we’re sponsoring?”

“Vassal?” Sawyer snorted. “You’re thinking too small.”

“Then… an ally?”

“Correct. An equal partner.” Sawyer’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jax inspect the corpse with clinical detachment. “Mark my words, Vance. Give him time, and that young man will be a warlord in his own right.”

Sawyer turned to Vance, his expression hardening. “Let this be a lesson. Never judge a book by its cover. In this world, the guy in rags might just be the one holding the nuke. Don’t look down on people just because they don’t wear a uniform.”

Vance nodded slowly, humility replacing his earlier arrogance. “Is he… an Awakened?”

“Yes. But not a physical type,” Sawyer theorized, his mind racing. “I suspect he’s a Mental-Type Awakened.”

Vance froze.

Mental-Types were the unicorns of the apocalypse. Rare, fragile, but terrifyingly powerful. Their brains processed information like supercomputers. While a Strength-Type could lift a car, a Mental-Type could calculate the structural weak point of a skyscraper and bring it down with a pebble.

“A Mental-Type…” Vance whispered. “We don’t have a single one in the Syndicate.”

“Exactly,” Sawyer said. “If he really is one, he could revolutionize our Defense Tower designs. He could optimize our entire grid. That’s why we treat him with respect.”

Sawyer saw the greedy glint in Vance’s eyes—the desire to recruit Jax immediately—and shook his head.

“Don’t even think about it. Mental-Types are independent. Push him, and he’ll walk. For now, we keep him happy. We keep the relationship profitable.”

“Understood, Supervisor,” Vance said, snapping to attention. “I won’t mess this up.”

The airlock hissed open.

Jax stepped out, peeling off the gore-streaked protective suit. He held out a hand. Sitting in his palm was a pulsating, fist-sized crystal. The Tier 3 Core.

“Here,” Jax said, tossing it onto the table like it was a paperweight. “Job’s done. Now, about those blueprints?”

Sawyer looked at the Core, then at Jax. “Keep it.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You killed it, you keep the loot,” Sawyer said smoothly. “Consider it a bonus.”

Jax looked at the glowing stone. It was worth a fortune—enough to feed a family for a year. But he didn’t pocket it.

“No,” Jax said, pushing it back. “We have a deal. I don’t take freebies. Besides…” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I’m not exactly hurting for Cores. I have a few thousand Tier 1s and over a thousand Tier 2s sitting in my inventory. Actually, do you have a currency exchange here? I need liquid credits.”

Vance nearly choked on his own spit.

Thousands?

He looked at Jax with newfound awe. To treat a Tier 3 Core as spare change… the guy wasn’t just strong; he was filthy rich. Vance, who was struggling to buy formula for his newborn twins, felt a pang of intense envy.

” thousands…” Sawyer repeated, his composure slipping for a second. “Our local branch might struggle to liquidate that much volume instantly. But once we get to Redrock Bastion, I can arrange a bulk exchange for you.”

“Fair enough,” Jax nodded.

Sawyer checked his watch. “I have some administrative matters to attend to. Captain Vance will escort you to the R&D Center. Is that acceptable?”

“Lead the way,” Jax said.

“It would be my honor,” Vance said, bowing slightly. The arrogance was gone, replaced by pure deference.

They walked through the rainy streets of The Sprawl, heading deeper into the Syndicate’s territory.

“This is the Defense Tower R&D Center,” Vance explained as they approached a heavily fortified compound. “It’s where we test new schematics and reverse-engineer pre-war tech.”

The gate guards stopped them. Vance flashed his badge.

“Captain Vance,” the lead guard greeted, his eyes flicking to Jax. He sneered. “And who is the vagrant?”

Vance stiffened. He leaned in, his voice a low hiss. “Watch your mouth. He’s a VIP. Supervisor Sawyer’s personal guest.”

The guard raised an eyebrow, looking Jax up and down with undisguised contempt. Jax was still wearing his worn wasteland gear, looking more like a refugee than a VIP.

“Sawyer’s guest, huh?” the guard muttered, loud enough to be heard. “The Supervisor is really scraping the bottom of the barrel these days. Bringing in trash to boost his numbers?”

Vance flinched, terrified Jax might take offense. But Jax didn’t even look at the guard. He stared past him, his eyes fixed on the testing grounds inside.

“Let us in,” Vance snapped.

The guard shrugged, unlocking the gate. “Whatever. Just don’t let him steal anything.”

As they walked through, Vance wiped sweat from his forehead. “My apologies, Mr. Jax. Ignorance runs rampant here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jax said absently. “Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.”