Chapter 1636 1636: Hitting A Brick Wall

A long long silence ensued, followed by a deep breath.

> "…Yes."

"Wanting to get rid of them... not just from the post but snuffing out their existence completely..."

The captain's eyes narrowed as he gazed forward deeply while dark thoughts plagued his mind.

"Yes..." he whispered.

The moment he acknowledged this, the door became wide open.

Falco rubbed his fingers together and a thin tendril of shadow crawled across his palm like ink, swirling, condensing into a tiny black mote, barely the size of a grain.

Only Angy saw it.

Her eyes widened but she said nothing.

He mentally whispered, 'Hook.'

The mote vanished into the air.

It slid through space like a ghost, undetected and seeped toward the captain's thoughts.

Right now, he was weakly thinking:

> "If only I had full control… If only I could enforce my rules without restriction…"

And that was enough.

The dark object latched onto the thought like a parasite.

Angy saw Falco shudder.

E.E noticed. "You good?"

Falco exhaled shakily. "It's working. He's thinking. He's spiraling."

Aildris asked quietly, "How long until we get full control?"

Falco closed his eyes.

"A few more days of nudging his thoughts… and he'll be pliable. His mind will obey the command we plant. He won't even realize he's under control."

Angy nodded.

"We're close, then."

E.E looked up toward the top floor, hidden behind distance and distortion.

"The commander is right there… behind all those levels."

Aildris's eyes glowed faintly.

"And soon, we'll have the only key that can get us through all of them."

Falco opened his eyes fully.

"Then let's begin phase two."

Angy asked, "Which is?"

Falco answered with a coldly.

"Make him trust us so deeply… he believes helping us is his own idea."

---

With the Captain now under Falco's influence, everything changed.

Before this, their movements had been narrowed down to strict corridors, predetermined tasks, and a suffocating chain of command that left no room for exploration.

Every elevator required authorization, every door a specific clearance, and even conversations were cross-checked through the station's internal surveillance. It was an iron cage disguised as an operational facility.

But now… now the bars had loosened.

Falco's control wasn't absolute. His "Dark Object" ability didn't turn someone into a puppet. Instead, it wrapped itself around the target's darkest impulses, magnifying them, nudging them, steering them. It was subtle. Dangerous. Unpredictable if used carelessly. But perfect for what they needed.

The Captain, Draven Orik, had seemed like a stiff, by-the-book officer who valued discipline above anything else. But over the week they spent bonding with him, they learned he carried quiet envy. He hated that his peers on the upper floors lived better. He resented how promotions came slowly. He feared dying as a mid-tier Gustavo alliance officer forgotten in the belly of Floor 13. And most importantly, he fantasized about having more power than he currently possessed.

That was the trigger Falco needed.

The night Falco finally fully activated the Dark Object within Draven's mind. The alien man froze for only three seconds before blinking, clearing his throat, and carrying on as if nothing had happened.

His eyes now carried a new glaze... something like ambition laced with recklessness.

Just enough to make him cooperative.

And now, with this tiny crack in the structure of authority, their campaign to ascend began.

---

The very next morning, Draven summoned the four of them; Aildris, Falco, Angy, and E.E, to his private office. It was still early and the station's recycled air swept cold through the corridors.

They exchanged quick glances as they entered, aware but cautious. Draven sat behind the desk, tapping a digital holopad with a smug, almost arrogant expression.

"You four," he voiced while looking them over with uncharacteristic interest, "I've been reviewing your performance records."

"You four," he voiced while looking them over with uncharacteristic interest, "I've been reviewing your performance records."

Performance records that didn't exist before Falco's intervention, E.E thought dryly.

"You're all wasted down here," Draven continued, leaning forward. "Your skillsets belong on higher floors. Floor 10 at the very least."

The man slid four recommendation documents across the desk. Strong recommendations. Hand-signed. Stamped.

Angy blinked. "Sir… all at once?"

"Yes. Your teamwork is exemplary," Draven replied. "I want to see how far you rise."

Falco kept his face blank, but under the table, Aildris sensed his relief.

This was exactly what they needed.

With a polite salute, the four of them exited the office. Once outside and far from the nearest surveillance node, E.E whispered:

"Well damn… this is happening."

Angy folded her arms, still skeptical. "Let's not celebrate yet. We rise one floor, then another, then another. They monitor transfers heavily."

Falco shrugged, completely unfazed. "And? That's why we have the man upstairs thinking he's destined for greatness. Every time we rise, he rises. He'll approve anything that strokes his ego."

"And if his ego collapses?" Angy countered.

Aildris answered quietly, "Then we collapse it for him. But for now… this works."

And so the climb began.

---

The transfer process was surprisingly smooth. With the Captain's handwritten endorsements and Falco's slight mental tug keeping Draven confident, they were approved for reassignment within six hours.

They were moved to Floor 10.

And the difference was immediate.

The corridors were wider, polished with reflective plating. The lighting was softer, almost warm compared to the harsh white glare of the lower levels. There were lounges. Fresh air vents. Actual windows, not to the outside universe, but to enclosed gardens created as morale boosters. People walked less like overworked machinery and more like members of an elite institution.

"This is already better than the lower floors," E.E muttered under his breath.

"But not enough," Aildris replied.

Their work assignments changed too. They were no longer doing monotonous grunt tasks. Now they had access to logistical oversight, technical maintenance on higher-grade systems, and data terminals containing glimpses of operational details from the upper floors.

It was on Floor 10 that they uncovered more information about the 42nd Commander.

---

On their second day, while Angy was running data checks on the floor's subsystem logs.

"This guy really lives like a king on the roof of a kingdom that never sees him," Angy muttered while peeping information about the 42nd commander.

He rarely slept. Rarely left his quarters. Rarely interacted with the station at all.

"And people still fight for positions close to him?" E.E asked.

"Of course they do," Falco replied. "He decides which planets get liberated and which get burned. His favor can make anyone's career."

Aildris added quietly: "And his floor… the higher you go, the better the privileges. People spend a lot of time trying to climb."

And so the four of them continued their rise.

Floor 10 turned into Floor 12.

Then Floor 14.

Every floor gave them clearer glimpses of the command structure.

Every floor gave them new obstacles too.

Restrictions tightened the closer they got. Surveillance increased. Access points narrowed to fewer lifts and corridors. The air grew colder, more sterile. Personnel carried themselves with vigor, like everyone above Floor 15 had undergone some unspoken conditioning.

Their fake camaraderie with Captain Draven kept him signing authorizations whenever "his team" needed them.

Although, there was only so far that a captain's power could take them.

And the climb wasn't without close calls.

On Floor 15, a senior officer intercepted them during a shift change.

She wore black-trimmed armor and shot them a piercing gaze. "You four… you were on Floor 4 last week."

Angy stepped forward calmly. "Yes, Captain Orik transferred us personally."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "Rapid promotions... too rapid..."

Aildris bowed slightly. "We work efficiently, ma'am."

The officer blinked stared at them briefly before speaking.

"Fine. Move along."

As they passed her, E.E muttered under his breath, "One of these days, someone's gonna look too close."

"That's why we have to accelerate," Angy replied.

---

The more they rose, the more detailed the Commander's profile became.

By Floor 16, they had access to partial surveillance logs from the top floor, though heavily restricted. They saw only silhouettes through static. But they confirmed:

The Commander still couldn't be accessed by just anyone even up there.

His cattle ranch took up 30% of the highest floor.

He had a personal cooking unit staffed by elite chefs.

He strictly controlled access and only two people were ever allowed into his chamber.

Only one team per month could be assigned to the corridors.

"He's paranoid," Aildris concluded.

Falco nodded. "The kind of paranoia we can exploit once we reach him."

---

Transferring upward became harder with each floor. The command structure required more layers of approval. They needed to stay in top working reports. Behave. Stay invisible while being exceptional.

Draven was not so much as useful at this point. His clearance and recommendation letters no longer helped.

However, in a certain situation, he falsely inflated their contribution logs which helped a lot.

Thus they reached Floor 19.

Just one level below the access threshold that led to the elite elevator... the only one that went to the Commander's floor.

This was where their progress hit a wall.

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