Chapter 83- Truth Behind the Mission (2)

"Inside the base?" Vance muttered under his breath, barely audible.

"Well, as a former top-secret research facility," Dixie explained, "Area 69 was most likely built with the highest level of security, designed to keep unauthorized personnel out. However, it's been abandoned for over a hundred years. There could be automated defenses, mutated beasts, or even remnants of whatever experiments were originally being run there. We don't really know much about the situation inside so we'll be going in blind to some extent."

One of the mercenaries, a woman named Psyko, raised her hand. "Then why don't we just gather troops and storm the place?"

"We could. But in order to protect the interests of the various factions exploring and prevent it from turning into an all out war, we all came to an agreement that each faction is only allowed to bring a total of one hundred personnel to explore the base, including both combat and non-combat personnel. There is also a clause that states that among these troops, only normies and 1st-tier cultivators can be allowed in along with restrictions on the tonnage of weapons that can be brought along. In other words, your role is essential. Without you, our team won't be able to progress safely."

Dixie paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle on the group. The restrictions he outlined weren't arbitrary, they had been carefully designed to maintain a delicate balance among the factions. No matter how large the underground base turned out to be, sending in too many high-level cultivators would risk escalating conflicts, while sending too many soldiers would draw too much attention. The factions wanted to explore, not conquer.

Rion's mind processed the implications swiftly. A hundred personnel sounded like a lot, but considering the scope of an entire research city, potentially sprawling with multiple sectors and sublevels, it was a fraction of what would normally be used for a thorough exploration.

The limit to 1st-tier cultivators was particularly interesting. 1st-tier Peak-Stage cultivators should be powerful enough to handle most threats the base might throw at them, but they would not be so overwhelming that they could easily wipe out rival teams. This restriction ensured that no one faction could strong-arm the others without suffering heavy casualties.

Dixie's eyes swept the room with a steady, calculating gaze. The man exuded confidence—the kind built from years of dealing with people who lived and died by violence. He was the kind of leader who could make mercenaries obey without needing to raise his voice. He knew that loyalty among mercenaries was a currency that devalued quickly, and so he relied on something stronger: self-interest.

"I won't lie to you," he said, gauging their reactions, "this mission might be even more dangerous than before. But the rewards for your success will be worth the risk."

He paused for dramatic effect, then continued. "Since that is the case, from this moment on, you are beneficiaries of the Normos Family. This means you'll have access to certain.... privileges."

Ohh...

Rion's full attention shifted back to the present, his gaze narrowing as he watched Dixie move across the stage. The man's words were calculated, each one designed to appeal to the mercenaries' greed and ambition.

"One of these privileges is that you'll have priority in future assignments with the Normos Family. These assignments will, of course, come with higher pay and better benefits." Dixie let his words linger for a moment, knowing full well the effect they'd have on the room full of mercenaries.

The declaration hung in the air like a charged wire, sparking anticipation. A shift ran through the crowd, a ripple of whispers. Some of the mercenaries exchanged knowing glances, while others leaned forward, their interest fully captured.

Rion's focus sharpened. The weight behind Dixie's words wasn't lost on him. The Normos Family's backing wasn't a trivial matter—it was a rare opportunity. The Family was a powerhouse, their influence threading through black markets, elite auction houses, and even government corridors. To be able to get priority on missions from a faction as influential as the could mean the difference between merely surviving and thriving.

"Additionally," Dixie continued, "you will gain access to our internal supply chain, a direct line to rare items and services that are otherwise impossible to obtain on the open market. And lastly, the monetary benefits."

Rion watched the other mercenaries murmur amongst themselves, most of them clearly tempted by the allure of riches and influence. The seasoned veterans among them knew how rare opportunities like this were. It wasn't often that a family as powerful as the Normos offered their protection and backing.

As for him, the mention of "rare items" piqued his interest. Who knew what kind of tech or weapons they might get their hands on with such connections? For someone like him, who was constantly thinking of ways to craft better gear and boost his combat capabilities, this was a serious perk.

Dixie's smile widened, pleased with the effect his words were having on the room. "To show that we are really serious, as soon as this meeting ends, each of you will receive 200,000 kila in addition to whatever rewards you were promised initially."

The murmurs intensified, and Rion could practically feel the shift in the room. For many, this was the push they needed to fully commit. Most of these mercenaries had fought tooth and nail for far less. Here, the Normos Family was offering the type of wealth that could change lives.

Rion leaned back in his chair, letting the conversation wash over him. He was already convinced to join the mission for personal reasons, but the added benefits were certainly nothing to scoff at. It was a good setup, and while most of the others were tempted by the rewards, he saw this mission as an opportunity to get in contact with tech and knowledge that would normally be considered state secrets, even if they were over a century old while making bank on the side.

Still, he couldn't help but smirk as Dixie continued to dangle the proverbial carrot in front of the group. There was always a catch, always some hidden cost to these so-called privileges. The Normos Family didn't climb to power by generosity alone.

"But make no mistake," Dixie continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "these privileges come with responsibilities. What we're offering you is not a free ride. You will have to earn it—every step of the way."

Dixie stopped pacing, his eyes sweeping across the room like a predator sizing up its prey. "Of course, those of you who perform above and beyond in your assignments will be handsomely rewarded."

Rion couldn't help but smirk internally. Classic carrot and stick, he thought. Dangle the rewards, remind them of the risks, then circle back to the rewards just to make the stick a little less threatening.

Dixie was a master of subtle manipulation, Rion had to give him that. The man knew exactly what buttons to press. Wealth and power? Check. Exclusive benefits? Double Check. Immediate financial incentives? Triple check. It was a mercenary's dream come true.

Still, Rion had to admit the man knew his audience. The mercenaries seated here were all driven by one of two things—wealth or survival. Most likely both. Dixie just offered them a shot at both while making it seem like they had a choice.

Rion's eyes drifted across the room, observing the mercenaries' reactions. Most leaned in, faces lit with anticipation, however some wore guarded expressions. These people werent some wide-eyed rookies. They'd been around long enough to know that when someone like Dixie offered you the world, it came with invisible strings attached—strings that, if pulled the wrong way, would likely end in a noose around your neck.

The best thing was, Dixie didn't have to say it outright. That was the genius of his approach. The mercenaries might be salivating over the riches, but they also understood the unspoken threat. Accepting the Normos Family's "deal" meant becoming a tool, bound by their will. The riches could be taken away as easily as they were given. The privileges were a gilded cage, not a golden ticket.

Dixie's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, pulling Rion from his thoughts. "As I mentioned earlier, this is a coalition effort. That means none of you can act unilaterally within the confines of the research base. Cooperation is essential—anyone caught violating the terms will not only face severe penalties but also risk triggering a full-scale conflict."

Dixie outlined more specifics of the upcoming mission for a while before beginning to wind down. The two bodyguard standing before him shifted subtly, straightening as if ready to usher their boss out.

"There will be a briefing session before the deployment, in order to elaborate more on the base and assign you all to your respective teams." Dixie announced. "In the meantime, use this short period to prepare.

He turned away from the podium and headed towards the exit. Then, as if forgetting something, he stopped and faced the group once more. "Oh, one last thing. Remember that cooperation among your team mates will be the key to survival. Step out of line, and the Normos Family will make an example out of you—no matter who you are."

With that final warning, Dixie turned away from the podium. A hum of conversation rippled through the crowd as people began to rise from their seats. Some moved toward the exits, while others lingered, talking in hushed tones.

Rion took a moment to let the room's energy wash over him—a mixture of excitement, fear, and determination. He felt a hand clap his shoulder, and he glanced back to see Vance's smirking face.

"I'm famished, Forger," Vance muttered, his voice low and rough. "Let's grab dinner. I need something to chew on while I figure out how deep we're in this mess."

Rion nodded, pushing to his feet and weaving through the thinning crowd alongside Vance. The hall's stale air gave way to the cooler bite of the evening as they stepped outside, the faint glow of Tempest Grove's flickering streetlights casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. His mind was currently working overdrive, considering the logistics of the operation. The promises Dixie made were substantial, but so were the risks. The Normos Family wouldn't put so much on the line without expecting a return—something far more valuable than a few mutated beasts or ancient artifacts.

"Gentlemen. A moment, if you please."

As they were about to leave for a nearby restaurant, a voice called them from behind. Looking back, they saw that it was one of the Family's helpers.

"Mr. Normos has arranged accommodations for all beneficiaries," the butler continued, holding out two small bundles of keys, each tagged with a number etched into a metal fob. "You'll find your new rooms in the eastern wing of the compound—numbers 17 and 25. They're yours for the duration of the mission, and the cafeteria is fully stocked with basic supplies. Should you require anything further, you need only ask."

Rion took the offered keys, the cold metal pressing into his palm as he turned the fob over. Number 17. Vance snatched his own—25—with a low whistle, twirling it around his finger like a prize.

"Fancy," Vance said, glancing at Rion. "Guess the Normos Family doesn't skimp on perks."

The butler inclined his head slightly, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed. Mr. Normos values his investments. Do enjoy your evening, gentlemen." With that, he stepped back into the shadows as smoothly as he'd appeared, leaving them alone once more.

Rion pocketed the key, his thoughts drifting back to Dixie's words and mannerisms. Rooms, money, privileges—it was all part of the same play, a way to bind them tighter to the Family's will. He wondered just how much of Area 69's secrets the Normos Family already knew. The location of the hidden base didn't seemed like something they'd stumble upon blindly.