Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 82: Crisis of Identity

Sawyer’s update on the disaster at the testing grounds was met with a faint, cynical smile from Jax.

Jax sliced into his steak, the knife gliding through the meat with surgical precision. He didn’t need a status report to know Dr. Aris’s so-called “Defense Tower” was doomed to fail. He had seen the blueprints. The internal calibration was a mess of non-standard parts and conflicting logic gates. In Jax’s era, a first-year workshop apprentice would have been fired for such sloppy engineering.

But considering the sheer arrogance Aris had displayed—sneering at Jax like he was common wasteland trash—Jax had zero inclination to offer a lifeline.

“Oh,” Jax grunted, forking a piece of beef into his mouth. “Is that so?”

Sawyer paused, his wine glass halfway to his lips. He blinked, surprised by Jax’s utter lack of surprise.

“Well,” Sawyer pressed, leaning forward, “word is, he’s desperate. He’s scouring the settlement for anyone who can troubleshoot the momentum loss issues. I hear the bounty he’s offering is… significant.”

Jax chewed slowly, his expression bored.

Let him rot, he thought. I warned you. You didn’t listen. Now that the tower is a glorified paperweight, you want a savior?

“Not interested,” Jax said flatly. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

Sawyer scrutinized Jax’s face, looking for a crack in the armor, but found none. He sighed, setting his glass down. The jovial atmosphere in the private dining room dimmed.

“Fair enough,” Sawyer said, his tone shifting to something more somber. “But we have another issue, Jax. Your identity papers… it’s going to be trickier than I thought. There’s been some pushback from the higher-ups in Redrock Bastion. It might take a few more days to grease the right palms.”

Jax stopped eating. The knife clattered against the porcelain plate.

“A few more days?” Jax’s voice dropped an octave, the temperature in the room plummeting. “We don’t have days.”

“I know, I know,” Sawyer said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s frustrating. Someone upstairs blocked the expedited request. Our lawyers are fighting it, but—”

“I don’t care about lawyers,” Jax cut him off, his brow furrowing. His mind instantly went to Elena.

The Elysium Lounge was a sinking ship. With the ownership transfer imminent, the chaos of a management change was the perfect cover for “inventory” to go missing—or be mistreated. If the new owner decided to clean house or repurpose the staff, Elena would be defenseless.

Every hour he spent stuck in this villa was another hour the noose tightened around her neck.

Jax stared at Sawyer, his gaze intense. “Is there a workaround? Any way to bypass the red tape?”

“Jax, what’s the rush?” Sawyer asked, genuinely confused. “You’re safe here. We have people in the Bastion who can handle errands. You don’t need to expose yourself personally.”

Jax fell silent, weighing his options. If he couldn’t get into the city legally, he couldn’t protect her. But Sawyer had resources.

“It’s not an errand,” Jax said quietly. “It’s a rescue operation. There’s a woman.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up. A spark of intrigue lit his eyes. “A woman? Now we’re getting somewhere. Who is she? Did she cross the Helios Syndicate?”

Jax shook his head. “No. Her name is Elena. She works at The Elysium Lounge. She took a job there as a wine promoter to pay for my medical bills when I was unconscious. I heard the place is being sold. I need to get her out before the transition happens.”

“The Elysium Lounge?” Sawyer’s expression darkened. “That complicates things.”

He didn’t hesitate. Sawyer reached for the intercom button on his mahogany desk. A moment later, his elderly butler stepped into the room, bowing slightly.

“Sir?”

“Investigate The Elysium Lounge immediately,” Sawyer ordered, his voice crisp. “Find out who the buyer is. I need a name within the hour.”

“Understood, Mr. Sawyer.” The butler turned on his heel and vanished.

Jax pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. The rich food suddenly tasted like ash.

“I’m sorry, Jax,” Sawyer said, looking genuinely apologetic. “I dropped the ball on the ID papers. I didn’t realize you had… personal stakes in the city. Wealth usually solves these problems, but the bureaucracy in Redrock is a beast of its own.”

“I don’t blame you, Sawyer,” Jax said, standing up. “I just need to make sure she’s safe.”

“We’ll find her,” Sawyer promised. “Once we know who the new owner is, we can negotiate. Everyone has a price.”

The wait was agonizing.

They moved to the lounge, where the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of a grandfather clock hammered against Jax’s nerves. He paced the room, unable to sit still, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. Outside, the gray sky wept a relentless, drizzling rain, matching his mood.

Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour.

Finally, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Jax was at the door in a flash, throwing it open. But it wasn’t the butler.

It was Vance.

The low-level captain beamed when he saw Jax. “Sir! You’re up! You look much better.”

“It’s you,” Jax said, unable to hide his disappointment. He turned his back and walked to the window, staring out at the gloom.

Vance stood in the doorway, blinkering awkwardly. He cleared his throat and looked at Sawyer. “Uh, Chief Sawyer. I have an update on Dr. Aris.”

Sawyer waved a hand dismissively. “Spit it out.”

“It’s big news,” Vance lowered his voice. “Dr. Aris and… well, your brother, the Eldest Scion… they’ve put out an open contract. Anyone who can fix the Penetrator Ballista gets a blank check. Any request, within reason, will be granted.”

Sawyer frowned, stubbing out his cigar. “My brother? What the hell is he doing getting involved in R&D? He usually can’t be bothered with anything that doesn’t involve gambling or booze.”

“It’s the Defense Tower Competition,” Vance explained. “The organizers are from the inner circle of Redrock Bastion. The rewards this year are military-grade. The Boss didn’t want to let the opportunity slip, so he put the Eldest Scion in charge.”

“Hmph.” Sawyer scoffed. “He’s just trying to curry favor with the old man. Useless hedonist. He wouldn’t know a flux capacitor from a toaster.” Sawyer slammed his hand on the armrest. “Fine. Keep watching them. If Aris makes a move, I want to know.”

“Yes, Chief.” Vance saluted. “I’ll head back.”

“Wait,” Sawyer called out, glancing at Jax’s rigid back. “Did you see the butler on your way in?”

“No, sir.”

“If you see him, tell him to get his ass in here. Double time.”

Vance nodded and retreated.

Sawyer pulled a fresh cigar from a cedar box and offered it to Jax. “Relax, brother. pacing won’t make the car drive faster.”

Jax ignored the cigar. He watched the rain slicking the driveway. “I can’t relax. If she’s still in there…”

Suddenly, headlights cut through the gloom. A rugged, armored Mitsubishi off-roader roared through the front gates, splashing mud as it drifted to a halt.

“That’s him,” Jax said, adrenaline flooding his system. “The Mitsubishi.”

“He’s back,” Sawyer confirmed, standing up.

Jax didn’t wait. He threw open the French doors and strode out into the rain. The cold water soaked his shirt instantly, but he didn’t feel it. He reached the vehicle just as the butler stepped out, holding a black umbrella.

“Sir,” the butler said, surprised by Jax’s intensity. “I have the information.”

“Who is it?” Jax demanded. “Who bought the lounge?”

Sawyer jogged up behind him, holding a coat over his head. “Let’s get inside, Jax! You’ll catch pneumonia out here.”

Jax ignored him, staring at the butler.

The butler looked past Jax to Sawyer. “Mr. Sawyer… it’s bad news. The purchaser is the Third Young Master of the Liu family. Victor.”

Sawyer froze. “Victor? Why does that snake want a rundown club?”

“Rumor is he plans to demolish it and build a high-end brothel for the inner city elite,” the butler replied.

“Dammit,” Sawyer hissed. “This just got complicated.”

“What does that mean?” Jax turned to Sawyer, water dripping from his hair. “Who is Victor?”

“My arch-nemesis,” Sawyer said grimly as they hurried back inside. “Victor and I have been at each other’s throats for years. If he finds out I’m trying to extract a girl from his property, he’ll lock her down just to spite me. He won’t sell her to us. Not for all the Credits in the wasteland.”

Jax felt a cold pit open in his stomach. “So we’re stuck? There has to be another way.”

Sawyer slumped onto the sofa, looking defeated. “With Victor? He’s petty and vindictive. I don’t see an angle.”

The butler, who was drying his jacket, cleared his throat politely.

“Sir… if I may,” the butler interjected softly. “There might be a leverage point. The Eldest Scion.”

Sawyer looked up. “My brother? What about him?”

“The Eldest Scion and Victor are close drinking buddies,” the butler explained. “They run in the same debauched circles. If the Eldest Scion were to ask for the girl… Victor would likely hand her over as a favor.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together in his mind.

Aris needed the tower fixed. The Eldest Scion was in charge of Aris’s project. The Eldest Scion was friends with Victor. Victor held Elena.

“The blank check,” Jax murmured.

Sawyer looked at him, realizing the same thing. “Vance said my brother would grant any request to the person who fixes the tower.”

Jax wiped the rain from his face, a cold, calculating look returning to his eyes.

“Sawyer,” Jax said, his voice steady. “Tell Vance to send word. I can fix their broken toy.”