"Your transport is ready."
The Steward checked his wristwatch, his usually stoic face bearing a trace of weary satisfaction as he strolled back into the office.
He spotted Su Jin draped in a deep black cloak, repeatedly flashing items off the desk and into the void using a silver ring. The Steward offered a thin smile. "That ring is your briefcase's evolved state. The storage capacity is substantially larger now, wouldn't you agree?"
Su Jin paused his rapid-fire testing and tugged at the heavy fabric cascading down his back. "Around six hundred cubic feet. Not bad. Lugging a briefcase through a warzone was a logistical nightmare anyway. This will fit the RV perfectly. But what exactly is the point of this cloak?"
"That is the Heavenly Evolution Cloak, standard-issue for full-time operatives," the Steward explained, his tone clinical. "Currently, it only possesses a cloaking paradigm. Upon insertion into a new world, it will seamlessly mimic local attire, eliminating the risk of temporal or cultural contamination. You've tested your weapon as well, I presume? It should have unlocked new alternate forms."
"Yeah." Su Jin casually drew the Silver Gun from his hip holster, admiring the cold gleam of the metal. "Does this piece have a name?"
"It is collectively known as the Xinhuo Set. The technical specifics are above my clearance." The Steward spread his hands in a gesture of corporate indifference. "Since the inception of the Xinhuo title, the mask, the ring, and the weapon have operated as a unified triad. None of them are Mortal Grade; they are symbiotic tools that will continuously evolve in tandem with your Ability."
"The Second-Generation Xinhuo once noted that this hardware holds a legendary status within the Company. During his initial orientation, executives and apex entities went out of their way just to witness it firsthand. Rumor states it was forged by a consortium of our most brilliant refining Masters, using cosmic-grade materials as the base chassis."
"Hell of a pedigree," Su Jin muttered. "But I've been wearing this mask constantly... it spiked in temperature a moment ago. Did it unlock a new function?"
The Steward shook his head. "You will have to run those diagnostics yourself. The Central Authority has placed strict embargoes on how much I can coach you regarding the application of your Abilities."
"The Central Authority is an amalgamation of supreme consciousnesses and primordial forces. Its directives are a calculated algorithm balancing mission success with the mandatory Darwinian growth of our operatives. That is why so many artificial limiters were placed on the Xinhuo legacy before it was handed to you."
"Should your Ability ever eclipse the Second Generation's, it is highly probable the legacy's firewall will unconditionally collapse, granting you absolute access. But our extraction timer is ticking. Let us review your transport."
The Steward pivoted and marched toward the main hangar, with Su Jin trailing closely behind.
Inside the massive hall, the recreational vehicle looked entirely unchanged from the day Su Jin bought it. The Steward popped the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and tapped the dashboard console.
With a single keystroke, the RV's chassis violently flickered. The metal blurred, warping light until the entire rig seamlessly dissolved into the background.
Su Jin blinked, stepping forward to run a hand along the invisible steel.
The rig was still parked exactly where it had been, just cloaked by a sophisticated optical illusion.
The cloaking tech was novel, but far from flawless. A passing glance might miss it, but anyone paying attention to the shimmering distortion would immediately spot the anomaly.
The Steward rolled down the invisible window and tapped the console. "I integrated a scrapped optical camouflage array and an acoustic dampening module onto the hull. They are factory rejects, but they will drastically reduce your signature when traversing hostile terrain. They are barely within acceptable operational parameters."
"I ripped out the engine and chassis and replaced them with heavy-duty alternatives. The powertrain is no longer combustion-based; I wired in a nearly depleted nuclear battery. Its remaining half-life is more than sufficient for your mission specs. I also overhauled the living quarters and, most crucially, embedded high-fidelity listening devices in every cabin partition. The minor upgrades you can discover in the field."
"A depleted nuclear battery..." Su Jin carefully took half a step backward. "No radiation leaks, right? It’s not going to turn into a dirty bomb under my ass?"
"The containment casing has a microscopic fracture. Catastrophic detonation is possible, but statistically improbable. It is infinitely safer than a volatile lithium rig or a tank full of highly flammable liquid," the Steward replied with eerie corporate detachment, hopping down from the cab.
"Do you want to put that in writing?" Su Jin's complexion turned a shade paler.
The image of navigating the apocalypse while sitting on a localized nuclear meltdown made him want to torch the RV right there.
"Have faith in my engineering!" The Steward flashed a rare, stark white smile. "I retrofitted this entire vehicle in ninety minutes. Do you doubt my competence? No automotive corporation on Earth possesses this level of manufacturing efficiency. It may be Company scrap, but to a native of your world, it is apex black-tech."
Su Jin sucked in a sharp breath. "Right. How exactly did you manage that?"
"I harbor a highly specific Ability. It was a backdoor asset the Second Generation uploaded into my system during his final deployment. Management simply forgot to scrub it from my registry... I have already said too much. I will transfer it to you before insertion. But be warned: it is a single-use exploit. The second the Central Authority detects the anomaly, they will aggressively purge it from your system."
Recognizing a classified corporate secret when he heard one, Su Jin kept his mouth shut. He raised his ring and swallowed the RV into the sub-space.
The Steward turned and navigated back toward his office. "I am only authorized to give you the full Company orientation upon successful completion of your next deployment. We have twenty minutes until launch. We must conduct a post-mortem on your previous mission errors. The floor is also open for inquiries."
They took their seats, and the Steward gestured toward the galactic projection mapping the wall.
"No critical failures, but there are... operational inefficiencies you must rectify."
The projection warped, and Su Jin’s face immediately turned rigid.
High-definition footage flared to life: Su Jin on the rooftop, his face flushed red as he brutally punched the infected girl away in a panic.
"The next time you are compromised by biological urges, simply castrate yourself on the spot. The Company medical plan covers complete tissue regeneration. Do not waste company time on hesitation," the Steward stated, his voice a flat, bureaucratic monotone.
"Pretty sure spontaneous castration leads to hemorrhagic shock... but thanks," Su Jin deadpanned, staring blankly as he pocketed the heavy-duty rubber band the Steward slid across the desk.
The holographic record shifted again. This time, it replayed the chaotic sequence of him administering the healing serum to Cheng Du. Su Jin had actively tried to repress this memory.
"Get out of here! What are you doing... It's not supposed to be like this, I haven't even washed... I'm not the bottom... It's backward! The whole thing is backward!!"
"...It cannot be backward!"
"This isn't how it goes in the stories... What the hell are you doing?! Ah... At least spit on it for lubrication! Gk... Cough! ARRGH! It's burning! What the fuck is that?!"
The Steward cleared his throat with a polite, dry cough. "Let this serve as a procedural reminder. Should you requisition high-value assets from the Central Authority—specifically biological serums—prioritize utilizing them on yourself. Do not squander Company capital on native liabilities."
"Let's skip the lecture. Do you have the admin rights to permanently delete that footage?" Su Jin's face was as black as the bottom of a cast-iron skillet.
"I manage the localized systems. It is a legacy permission from your predecessor. However, you are now the supreme administrative authority of this nexus," the Steward advised. "Focus your cognitive intent, and you will detect the neural link binding you to this facility."
Taking a breath to bury his embarrassment, Su Jin focused his mind. Instantly, the wireframe architecture of the entire building bloomed into his consciousness.
Driven by a stray thought, the dimensional space violently shifted. The endless corridor and its countless doors materialized in the room, then snapped back into the standard office layout just as fast.
Simultaneously, the Steward was compressed. His 3D form collapsed into a flat, paper cutout that drifted onto the leather chair.
Su Jin snapped his eyes open. With another mental command, the paper rapidly inflated, rendering the Steward back into his weary, suited form.
"Intuitive, is it not?" the Steward remarked, adjusting his tie. "If you revoke my system permissions, my localized avatar is reduced to a two-dimensional asset."
"That kind of absolute control... is terrifyingly addictive." Su Jin lifted a finger, swiping at the galactic projection with a faint, predatory smirk.
The footage shifted one last time, framing a cramped, dimly lit room where a lone candle flickered against the gloom.
It displayed Su Jin holding his smartphone, stealthily snapping compromising photos of Fu Qingdai while she slept.
"Clients are transient assets in your career trajectory. You may cross paths again, but you will always inevitably part ways. The Second-Generation Xinhuo suffered severe psychological trauma failing to grasp that concept," the Steward warned, his tone grave.
"You're projecting," Su Jin scoffed, waving his hand to banish the video feed. "My next deployment clock is one hundred and eighty days. If I execute the objective before the timer zeros out... can I abort the apocalypse altogether?"