Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 78: Garbage Blueprint

Dr. Aris spun around, his lab coat whipping behind him as he glared at Jax.

“Excuse me? Did you just say my design is full of holes?”

Jax didn’t flinch. He glanced at the schematic for the [Tier 2 Penetrator Ballista] spread across the table and nodded.

“I did. Anyone with eyes can see this tower won’t even power on. The drive train geometry is off, the firing mechanism lacks recoil dampeners, and the connecting rods are far too brittle for the torque they need to handle.”

Jax kept his tone flat, professional. He was testing the waters—and his own [Blueprint Analysis] skill. If he could fix this, it might be his ticket in.

“I can modify the components for you,” Jax offered. “Make it functional.”

Dr. Aris froze. His mouth opened to deliver a scathing retort, but the words died in his throat. This stranger—this slum rat—had just listed the exact technical bottlenecks Aris had been subconsciously worrying about. For a split second, a cold spike of fear hit him.

Does this kid actually know engineering?

Aris scanned Jax from head to toe. Worn clothes, dust-streaked skin, the lean, hungry look of a scavenger. It was the Apocalypse. Schools had collapsed a decade ago. A kid this age wouldn’t know a calculus equation from a grocery list, let alone advanced ballistics mechanics.

Aris shook his head, physically discarding the absurdity.

“Hah! Nice try, grifter,” Aris sneered, his arrogance rushing back to fill the void of his insecurity. “I see garbage like you every year. You hear the R&D Center pays well, so you come in here spouting technobabble you picked up from some old manual, hoping to scam a meal ticket. Real talent is rare. You? You probably haven’t even finished grade school.”

Jax smiled faintly. Aris wasn’t wrong about the history. Jax’s predecessor hadn’t seen the inside of a classroom since the skies turned gray.

When the disaster hit, the education system was the first casualty. Only the ultra-rich in the high-security zones could afford private tutors. For the rest of humanity, knowledge had fractured. The older generation held onto scraps of science that no longer applied to a world governed by a game-like System and mutagens.

But Jax wasn’t just a scavenger anymore.

“Fine,” Jax said, cutting through the man’s tirade. “You don’t want help? Your loss. I’m on a tight schedule.”

Jax turned to the guard. “If we’re done here, let’s go.”

Aris turned a shade of purple. He was used to sycophants, not dismissal.

“You don’t have time?” Aris sputtered, stepping forward. “You’re a refugee from the slums! I’m the Chief Engineer! My listening to your nonsense was charity, you ungrateful little—”

“Save your breath,” Jax interrupted, his voice dropping a few degrees. “I won’t waste any more of your valuable time. Goodbye.”

Jax didn’t look back. He walked out of the office with a steady stride. He had tolerated enough sneering for one day. Staying would only mean more insults, and Jax had no patience for theatrics.

Aris stood in the center of his office, chest heaving, watching the door swing shut. Once Jax was gone, the Chief Engineer collapsed into his leather chair and fumbled a cigarette from his pocket with shaking hands.

He lit it, dragging deep. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, calming the tremors.

The pressure was eating him alive. The Black Rain was intensifying. The Insect Swarm was gathering. The Helios Syndicate demanded results, and as the lead on the tower project, Aris’s head was on the chopping block.

If he failed to deliver a working prototype before the next wave, he wouldn’t just be fired. In this world, losing your position meant losing your rations, your housing, and your protection. It was a death sentence.

He had been working eighteen-hour days, running on caffeine and fear. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t fail.

Aris crushed the cigarette into the ashtray—the same desk Jax had leaned against moments ago. His eyes drifted back to the blueprint.

“Full of problems…” Aris muttered, mocking the boy’s voice. “As if a gutter rat could understand my genius.”

He pulled the schematic closer, smoothing out the paper with a tender, almost sensual touch. This was his masterpiece. Two weeks of grueling labor from his entire team.

[Tier 2 Penetrator Ballista].

Once built, its high-velocity bolts would punch through the chitinous armor of the Acid-Web Arachnids like paper. It was the salvation of Redrock Bastion.

He scrutinized the lines and calculations for ten minutes. Nothing. It looked perfect.

“Delusional kid,” Aris scoffed.

Confident again, he rolled up the blueprint and marched out the back door toward the construction site.

The testing ground was a hive of activity. A sixteen-foot metal skeleton loomed over the yard—the frame of the Penetrator Ballista. It was impressive in scale, but it was just a shell. The internal organs were currently arriving from the forge.

A dozen workers jogged over, hauling crates of freshly machined parts. They dumped them at the base of the tower, panting.

The foreman wiped grease from his forehead, looking down at the components with a frown.

“Boss,” a worker said, holding up a gleaming connecting rod. “Are we seriously installing these? They feel… wrong. The tempering is off. I feel like if I sneeze on this alloy, it’ll snap.”

“Yeah,” another chimed in, kicking a drive gear. “Look at the tolerance on this transmission shaft. It’s too thin. The moment the mana engine torques up, this thing is going to shear in half.”

“The power coupling doesn’t even line up,” a third worker shouted from inside the chassis. “I’ve tried forcing it, but the geometry is garbage. We can’t even assemble it, let alone fire it!”

“Who designed this trash?” A young mechanic threw a wrench onto the sand in frustration. “Does the designer have sawdust for brains? We’re busting our asses working overtime to build this, and when it inevitably explodes, they’re going to blame us for ‘shoddy workmanship’!”

“Foreman, call it in,” someone pleaded. “If we install this junk, we’re just going to have to strip it down and rebuild it tomorrow.”

The foreman sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, I know. I know.”

“You know?”

“The schedule is too tight,” the foreman said helplessly. “I checked the specs. We built exactly what was on the prints. Whether it works or not isn’t our call anymore. We just need to finish the assembly so they can run their tests. Just get it done.”

The grumbling intensified.

Suddenly, the foreman froze. He spotted a figure standing in the shadow of the blast wall—Dr. Aris. The Chief Engineer’s face was a mask of thunder.

“Shut up!” the foreman hissed, spinning around to glare at his crew. “What are you doing? We do what the higher-ups tell us! Quit yapping and start welding!”

The crew fell silent, confused by the sudden shift.

A new hire, a young man who hadn’t spotted Aris yet, muttered under his breath, “It’s still garbage. Why protect the idiots in the ivory tower? If they gave me a pencil, I could draw a better turret than this.”

“Is that so?”

A voice dripping with ice cut through the humid air.

The workers parted like the Red Sea. Dr. Aris stepped forward, his glasses reflecting the harsh floodlights. The foreman’s face drained of blood.

“Dr. Aris! Sir!” The foreman stammered, bowing slightly. “I—I apologize. These guys, they’re uneducated. They don’t know what they’re saying. Please, don’t take it to heart.”

Aris ignored him. He walked straight up to the young mechanic who had just spoken.

“Repeat that,” Aris said softly. “You said my design is garbage? You said you could do better?”

The young worker swallowed hard, but the exhaustion and frustration boiled over. He didn’t back down.

“I’m telling the truth,” the worker said, gesturing at the pile of parts. “This is garbage. The parts don’t fit. How is it supposed to launch a bolt if we can’t even bolt the barrel on?”

“Enough! Shut your mouth!” the foreman roared, practically vibrating with fear.

“No, let him speak,” Aris laughed, a high, brittle sound. “This is fantastic. Truly eye-opening. I slave away for weeks, and a bunch of grease monkeys think they know better?”

Aris spun around to face the Site Director, who had just hurried over to quell the disturbance.

“You heard them, Director Kaine?” Aris pointed a shaking finger at the crew. “These laborers think they’re engineers. They say they don’t need my blueprints. Fine!”

Aris ripped off his ID badge and threw it on the ground.

“Let them design it! I’ll go pack my things and report to the Helios Syndicate that I’ve been replaced by a welder!”

Director Kaine paled. Losing the Chief Engineer now would be catastrophic. “Dr. Aris, please! Calm down. It’s just shop talk. I’ll discipline them immediately.”

“Discipline?” Aris sneered. “I want an explanation, and I want it now. It’s me or them, Kaine. Either these insolent rats are gone, or I am. You choose!”

Aris turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving the Director standing amidst the “garbage” parts, looking utterly defeated.