Chapter 82- Truth Behind the Mission (1)

Rion casually walked over to one of the empty chairs, settling into it as it offered a small, comforting distraction from the mounting tension that hung in the air. His sharp, calculating eyes locked onto Dixie Normos, the man commanding the stage at the front of the room. With his arms crossed tightly over his chest, Rion tracked every subtle movement Dixie made—the slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers flexed briefly before settling, every inflection in his smooth, authoritative voice as he addressed the remaining mercenaries.

The hall, which had been bustling with activity earlier, now held only a fraction of the group that had originally assembled. Mercenaries were not known for their patience, and the rest had already left the hall, satisfied with the easy payout and eager to leave the strange, dangerous atmosphere of Tempest Grove behind.

About twenty remained, Rion among them, each one radiating a unique blend of wariness, curiosity, and perhaps a touch of arrogance—traits of those who had survived long enough to develop both skill and cynicism.

But Rion, like the others still present, sensed that this meeting wasn't about the rewards they'd been promised. There was something more at play, something unspoken but tangible. A subtle shift in the air that signaled the real reason they had been summoned to this godforsaken place.

Dixie's voice broke the murmur of the crowd, drawing everyone's attention. The man's charisma was undeniable—his voice smooth yet authoritative, his stance relaxed yet commanding. He wore a tailored suit that seemed too polished for the gritty backdrop of Tempest Grove, its fabric too pristine compared to the scarred and battle-worn appearance of the people gathered before him. Yet, it was precisely this contrast that gave him an edge, an aura of confidence that demanded respect.

"First," Dixie began, his voice rich with authority, "let me thank you all again for your actions during the last few days." His words echoed in the hall, measured, controlled, each one carefully chosen to maintain the air of power he exuded. "What you've accomplished thus far has been impressive, and you've proven your value to the Normos Family. That's why I've called you here."

Rion's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression remaining carefully neutral. This wasn't a thank-you speech; it was a setup, a prelude to something far bigger, something that Dixie wasn't going to reveal until he was absolutely certain he had them hooked. The man's posture, his calm and deliberate delivery, all of it screamed manipulation.

Around him, Rion could feel the shift in the room. The remaining mercenaries were listening intently, some more skeptical than others, but all intrigued. Vance, seated a few rows ahead, turned slightly, catching Rion's eye and offering a faint smirk. Even in a moment like this, the man's sense of humor hadn't abandoned him. Rion responded with an eye roll, acknowledging the shared sentiment—this was about to get interesting.

"But," Dixie continued, his tone dropping to something heavier, more somber, "what you've experienced so far was only the prelude. The real mission—the true reason we brought you all to Tempest Grove—begins now."

There it was. Rion felt the room shift again, the collective attention of the group snapping into place. This was the moment they had all been waiting for, the moment Dixie would lay his cards on the table—or at least enough of them to keep them in the game.

Dixie let the weight of his words settle before pressing on. "I understand that the secrecy surrounding this mission might have been frustrating," he said, his tone softening just enough to hint at an apology, though it rang hollow to Rion's ears. "And for that, I apologize. But the truth is, what I'm about to share with you is of high significance, and we had to take all precautions to minimize leaks of any kind."

A soft murmur rolled through the crowd. Rion's gaze darted across the room, taking in the reactions of those around him. A wiry man to his left, his fingers drumming restlessly on the arm of his chair, leaned forward slightly, his brow creased with thought. A woman near the back, her arms folded and her scarred jaw set tight, tilted her head as if weighing Dixie's words against some internal scale. Even Vance seemed more attentive than usual, his smirk fading as curiosity took over.

Dixie let the silence linger for a moment, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing. "Before we move forward, I need to make something very clear. This mission is going to be more of an under-the-table deal, and it won't be recorded officially. If any of you feel that you can't commit to this mission—if, after hearing what I have to say, you think you won't be able to follow through—you're free to leave now. No hard feelings. Your rewards have already been processed, and you'll leave here with everything you've earned."

Rion's eyes flicked to the door, but no one moved. The other mercenaries exchanged glances, some hesitating for a moment, but ultimately, no one got up to leave. They were either too intrigued, too invested, or simply too curious to walk away now. They were all seasoned enough to know when they were being manipulated, but none of them were willing to lose the chance to do something greater than the usual mercenary work.

"Since all of you are choosing to stay," Dixie continued, his voice taking on a darker edge, "understand that from this moment on, there is no going back."

A heavy silence followed his words. Rion shifted slightly, his mind racing through the implications. This was beginning to sound far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated, but that only made it more tempting. The promise of high rewards always came with high risks, and for mercenaries like them, risk was part of the job description.

Dixie's smile widened as he surveyed the room, his eyes gleaming with a blend of satisfaction and something sharper—anticipation, perhaps. "Good," he said, clasping his hands together in front of him with a soft clap that echoed faintly. "I knew I chose the right group."

He took a step forward on the stage, the movement deliberate, drawing every eye back to him. "Now that that's out of the way, I can finally share the true reason we're in Tempest Grove, and what we're really looking for."

Rion leaned back slightly, his arms still crossed, his mind buzzing with questions. What could possibly justify this level of secrecy?

"As most of you know," Dixie began, his voice clear and steady, "the area of Tempest Grove used to be part of a prosperous nation called the Hairy Eagle Country. Like any self-respecting nation of its time, they poured resources into a wide range of research ventures. Most of it was conventional—technology to streamline their cities, medicine to extend their lives, agriculture to feed their people. But there were other projects, ones that didn't fit neatly into public records or official announcements."

"These were the kinds of experiments that couldn't be conducted in the open, in normal research labs with glass walls and government oversight. They were too secretive, too dangerous—or both. To house these projects, they reportedly created a facility known as Research Site Theta. Though, if you've ever had the chance to skim conspiracy theorist forums from back in the days, you might know it better as Area 69."

"This place," Dixie went on, his voice steady and deliberate, "was said to be much more than just a lab. Rumors painted it as a hidden underground city—a sprawling network of tunnels and chambers carved beneath the earth, housing the most advanced pinnacle laboratories of its time. A place where the brightest minds conducted research that pushed the boundaries of what was possible, and maybe even what was sane."

A mercenary near the front, a stocky woman with sharp eyes and a rifle slung across her back, spoke up. "Umm boss, the history lesson's all well and good, but what does this have to do with our mission?"

Dixie's eyes flicked toward the woman who had spoken, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The interruption seemed to amuse him rather than annoy. He took a moment, letting the silence hang before responding.

"I was getting there," he said smoothly, his tone light but with a hint of sharpness that suggested he didn't appreciate being rushed. "And I'd prefer it if no one else interjects until I'm done. I promise I'll get to the point."

The woman inclined her head slightly, a hint of defiance in her eyes, but she held her tongue. The rest of the mercenaries shifted, the tension dissipating just a bit. Rion noticed it too—a subtle relaxation in their stances. If Dixie had been someone who would snap at the smallest challenge, it would've soured the air. Instead, his measured response drew them in further.

"As I was saying," Dixie resumed, his voice firm, "the existence of Area 69 was highly debated during its time. To the average citizen, it was just a rumor—a convenient scapegoat for government overreach, failed projects, and conspiracy fodder. But for those with access to classified information, it was an open secret. The place existed, and it thrived, at least right up until the Uprising."

That single word sent a ripple through the room. The Uprising. It was an event that everyone understood, regardless of which part of the world they hailed from. It was the great equalizer—a disaster that had almost wiped the people of this world off the face of the planet. The mutated beasts that roamed the wastelands were a constant reminder of the Uprising's aftermath.

Rion's mind drifted briefly to the stories he had heard—how entire cities had fallen in days, their populations either devoured or driven mad by the onslaught of monsters. The official records blamed environmental disasters, biological weapons, or even experiments gone wrong, but the truth remained buried in the ruins left behind.

"No one truly knows what triggered the Uprising," Dixie continued, his tone dropping. "Some claim it was a biological experiment gone wrong; others believe it was a mutation of origin energy. The reality is, there are no clear answers—just scattered fragments of data that never formed a complete picture. But that's not our concern today. What matters is that, like other nations, the Hairy Eagle Country crumbled under the assault of mutated beasts. They failed to evacuate the researchers in time, and in desperation, they abandoned the research city, sealed the entrance, and buried all records of its existence. Till this day, a lot of historians believe that this legendary city is just a myth."

"Recently however," Dixie continued, "we uncovered intel suggesting that Area 69 might still exist beneath a particular area of Tempest Grove. Buried, sealed off, but not entirely inaccessible. This was why we organized the expedition into Tempest Grove — to confirm if this research city still lies beneath the ruins."

A wave of murmurs rippled through the room

The mercenary with the scarred face, Garth, leaned forward. "Wait a minute," he said. "You already signed off the end of the mission. Does that mean that we already found this base?"

Dixie's smile didn't waver. "Yes. It's just that it wasn't us who found it."

The mercenaries sat up straighter, eyes deep in contemplation.

"It was actually another faction that discovered the location," Dixie explained, his voice calm but laced with intensity. "But they quickly realized that it would be impossible to keep it hidden from the other major factions who were also searching for the city. So, in exchange for certain… favors, we and the other large factions have formed a coalition. The agreement is simple: no interference, no fighting, and we all get to explore the base together.

The leader of the Shadow Sisters mercenary team, who had remained silent up until this point, finally spoke, her voice calm but laced with skepticism. "And what's our role in this, exactly? We're not scientists or engineers."

Dixie smiled slightly. "Well, it's the same as before. Your job is to secure the engineers, the archeologists, and the scientists as they explore the base. Keep them safe from any threats that may arise, whether from outside forces or… inside the base."