Chapter 162: Hunger and Rules V
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A guard waited near the post.
From far away, his armor looked plain. Iron plates. Black leather straps. A travel cloak tucked neatly behind his shoulders. Nothing flashy.
Up close, the truth showed itself.
Every plate carried runes, not carved for beauty, but stamped for function. Teleportation runes. Registration runes. Toll runes. The kind of runes that did not glow unless the association wanted them to glow. The kind that reminded travelers they were not entering a wild portal. They were stepping into a system.
He carried a halberd made of dark alloy, thick and heavy, its shaft wrapped in a grip cloth that had been replaced many times. The blade hummed faintly like a wasp trapped under glass. Not contract authority. Teleport authority. Different flavors. Same danger.
His face was hidden behind a mask.
Not for intimidation.
For safety.
Because in Null, the wrong traveler could remember your face and decide your family line was inconvenient.
The guard raised one hand as the three approached.
"Travelers," he said, voice muffled. "State purpose."
The silver haired woman stepped half a pace forward.
Sofia smiled.
It was not warm.
It was the smile of someone who had lived long enough that manners were optional.
"Downward travel," she said. "Lower domain access."
The guard did not move his halberd, but the runes along his gauntlet flared briefly, tasting her aura like a silent tongue.
He paused.
Then spoke carefully.
"Half god ranks," he said. "You know the rule. Domain travel requires declaration. Teleport chains require a toll. The Teleportation Association requires compliance."
Natasha’s lips curved faintly.
"Compliance," she murmured, "is not obedience."
The guard’s voice remained flat.
"Compliance is the difference between a gate that opens and a gate that rejects you into a wall," he replied. "And yes. That happens. People forget. Then they become stains."
Alex finally spoke, calm and measured.
"We are compliant," he said. "We are not foolish."
The guard studied him a heartbeat longer.
Then gestured toward a stone pedestal beside the post.
"Payment."
Sofia placed a pouch down.
The guard opened it.
High grade chaos stones.
Refined.
Clean.
Enough to make most officials bow faster.
His posture loosened by a fraction. Not relief. Recognition. Money was a language even masked men respected.
He nodded.
"Declaration scroll."
Alex produced a thin scroll as if it was pulled from empty air. He set it down on the pedestal with the gentleness of someone placing down something that could bite.
The guard did not touch it immediately. He studied the seal first.
Teleportation Association seal.
Valid.
He pressed his palm to the scroll.
Runes flared.
The air above the pedestal shimmered and formed glowing text.
Mid domain transit ridge.
Border shelf registry city.
Lower domain upper shelf corridor.
Lower domain deep corridor chain.
Slik region approach route.
The guard’s voice tightened slightly at the final line.
"Slik," he murmured.
Natasha watched him.
"You know it."
"Everyone knows it," the guard replied. "If they trade. If they gamble. If they survive."
He lifted his hand again and pointed toward the arch behind him.
The gate did not look like a contract gate.
It looked like a machine pretending to be sacred.
Two pillars of dark stone. A curved arch. A floating plate of runes between them, rotating slowly, like a lock waiting for the correct key. Beneath the arch sat a carved emblem.
Not a god symbol.
An association symbol.
A spiral with three layered arrows.
Teleportation Association.
The guard spoke again, more official now.
"Toll is accepted. Declaration is accepted. Next step is registry marking."
Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"A mark."
The guard nodded.
"A temporary transit mark," he said. "It proves you paid. It also proves you entered legally. If a corridor incident happens, we know who was present. That is the point."
Sofia’s smile sharpened.
"And if we refuse the mark."
The guard’s halberd hummed louder for a heartbeat, like it disliked the question.
"Then you do not travel," he replied. "Association corridors do not open for ghosts."
Alex did not argue.
He simply held out his hand.
The guard pressed two fingers to the back of Alex’s hand first.
A line of pale runes formed like thin ink under the skin. It glowed faintly, then settled into a dull shimmer.
Sofia followed.
Natasha followed.
Three marks.
Three declarations.
Three legal predators.
The guard exhaled once behind his mask.
Then he paused.
Not because of them.
Because behind him, at the secondary post, two lower guards were talking.
Quietly.
The kind of quiet that still carried when the wind was right.
One of them leaned on his spear and muttered, "Did you hear the rumor?"
The other scoffed. "Which one? I heard ten rumors before breakfast."
"The ant one," the first guard whispered.
The second guard froze for half a beat.
Then tried to laugh like it was stupid.
But it came out nervous.
"The Ant God."
"Yeah," the first said, voice dropping lower. "They say he is in the upper domain. Not down here. Upper domain. Real territory. Real monsters."
The second guard scratched his jaw under his helmet.
"That is far," he muttered. "Upper domain is where people stop pretending."
"I know," the first guard said. "That is why it is scary. Caravans coming down from above keep saying the same thing. A hive mountain. An ant lord. A man who rose through beasts like a plague."
The second guard snorted.
"Ants do not become gods."
The first guard’s voice turned sharp.
"That is what people said about a lot of things before they died," he whispered.
The second guard shifted, uncomfortable.
"What is the story then."
The first guard looked around like he was afraid the teleport gate itself would gossip.
"They call him Kai," he said. "They say he takes women into his harem."
The second guard made a face.
"So. Every strong man takes women."
"No," the first guard snapped quietly. "Not like this. They say he gives them power. Real power. Not jewelry. Not titles. He feeds them essence. Evolves them. Turns them into monsters that can tear squads apart."