SSS-Tier Extraction: From Outcast to Overgod!
Chapter 41: The Vault Guardian

Chapter 41: The Vault Guardian

The Power Core Scramble was officially on. While the members of Outpost #7 and Outpost #3 were spreading out, hunting for lone robots in the twisting corridors of the Labyrinth, Ryan did the opposite.

He walked away from the common areas and straight towards the massive, time-locked door he had just managed to open. A wave of cold, silent air washed over him as he stepped across the threshold, into a place that hadn’t seen a living soul for thousands of years.

The Vault was breathtakingly huge. The ceiling soared up into complete darkness, and the vast, open chamber was filled with silent, dormant Precursor machines that stood like metal statues in a giant’s museum.

The air was perfectly still and clean, carrying only the scent of cold stone and a faint, electric tang of ozone. His footsteps echoed loudly in the silence. It felt holy, like a cathedral built to honor technology.

His new "Temporal Sense" began to prickle at the back of his neck. The feeling grew stronger the deeper he walked into the Vault.

This place was saturated with ancient, powerful time energy. It was like walking near a sleeping volcano; the power was immense, even if it was quiet for now.

Then, the prickling sensation turned into a full-blown alarm bell in his mind.

In the exact center of the immense chamber, a section of the floor slid away with a silent, hydraulic hiss. Something massive began to rise from the darkness below.

It wasn’t slow and dramatic; it was fast and efficient. A twelve-foot-tall war machine, built of a dark, unscratchable metal, ascended into the chamber.

Its body was a fortress of thick armor plates, and its head was a single, piercing red eye that swiveled around the room before locking directly onto him. In one powerful hand, it held a huge, heavy shield. In its other hand, it gripped a weapon that made Ryan’s blood run cold.

It was a blade, long and elegant, but it wasn’t made of metal. It looked like it was carved from a piece of frozen, shimmering light, and the air around it seemed to bend and warp.

The god Interface flashed a warning in his vision. The text was colored a shade of red he had never seen before, a color that screamed "RUN."

[Vault Guardian Prime (Level 8 Anomaly)]

Threat Level: LEGENDARY.

Description: An ancient Precursor war-construct, a masterwork of its time. It is programmed to guard this Vault against all intruders with lethal force.

Primary Weapon: "Temporal Blade." A unique weapon that resonates with temporal frequencies. It does not just cut matter; its energy field can sever a target’s connection to their own immediate past.

Effects of Temporal Blade: Contact with the blade’s energy field can cause severe disorientation, memory stutters, and a high probability of skill failure as the brain’s signals become unsynchronized with the body’s actions.

"Legendary..." Ryan whispered, his mouth suddenly dry. That was a new one. And a blade that could cut you off from your own past? What did that even mean? It sounded less like a weapon and more like a tool for creating a serious mental breakdown.

The Guardian Prime did not give him time to ponder. Its red eye glowed with intense light, and it moved. For something so gigantic, its speed was horrifying.

It closed the distance between them in a few, ground-shaking strides. It raised its shimmering Temporal Blade and swung it in a clean, horizontal arc, aiming to cut him in half.

Ryan’s new Boots were the only reason he was still in one piece. He dodged backward, a burst of incredible speed carrying him out of the blade’s path. The blade sliced through the air, and even though it didn’t touch him, he felt a bizarre, cold wind wash over his skin.

Then, his world broke.

His vision flickered violently, like a bad video signal. For a split second, he saw an afterimage of himself still standing in the spot he had just left.

A wave of gut-wrenching dizziness and confusion washed over him. It felt like his mind and body were suddenly in two different places, connected only by a frayed string.

He instinctively tried to use his Phase Gauntlet’s "Short Blink" to create more distance, a skill that had become second nature to him.

His brain sent the command. His hand twitched. Nothing happened. The skill failed. The connection was broken.

"What...?" he gasped, stumbling as he tried to clear his head. He felt like he had just woken up from a strange dream he couldn’t quite remember.

That was the power of the blade. It didn’t even need to hit him to mess him up.

The Guardian, a perfect killing machine, saw that its attack had an effect. It pressed its advantage, charging forward again, its heavy footsteps like drumbeats of doom. It swung its blade again, this time in a brutal downward chop.

Ryan dodged to the side, his heart hammering against his ribs. The blade slammed into the stone floor, carving a deep, glowing gash.

The "Accelerated Reflex" from his boots kicked in, and for one precious second, the world seemed to slow to a crawl. In that moment of clarity, he saw a potential opening. The Guardian was big, and after its powerful swing, its side was briefly exposed.

He dashed in, hoping to do some damage, any damage. He stabbed with all his might at a cluster of thick cables he saw nestled in the joint of the Guardian’s massive arm.

His knife, which had cut through the hides of countless monsters, screeched against the dark metal. A few sparks flew, but the blade bounced off, barely leaving a scratch on the polished surface. The Guardian’s armor was on a completely different level.

The machine’s reaction was instantaneous. It didn’t even bother with its blade. It simply swung its massive shield like a battering ram. Ryan was too close to dodge. The shield hit him square in the chest with the force of a runaway truck.

The world spun as he flew through the air, his body limp. He slammed into a dormant Precursor console. Pain shot through his ribs, and he gasped as the air left his lungs. Black spots danced in his vision.

He collapsed to the floor, groaning, his whole body screaming in protest. Through his blurry vision, he could see the Guardian Prime stomping towards him, its single red eye glowing like the pit of a volcano. It raised its Temporal Blade, preparing for the final, finishing blow.

In that moment, Ryan knew with absolute, terrifying certainty that he could not win this fight. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t hurt it. He couldn’t out-muscle it. Its weapon could disable his skills just by getting close. Fighting it head-on wasn’t brave; it was a stupid way to die.

Think, Ryan, think! his mind screamed, cutting through the pain. Don’t fight it. Outsmart it.

As the Guardian raised its blade high, ready to end him, Ryan’s eyes darted around the vast chamber. His gaze fell upon the twisting pathways, the towering machines, the endless corridors of the Vault.

His Neural Symbiote Map, his best tool for understanding layouts, flashed in his mind. The Guardian was programmed to protect the Vault.

Its primary directive was to eliminate the intruder him. But its programming was likely simple, direct. It would follow him. It would pursue the threat.

With a surge of pure, desperate adrenaline, he rolled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain. He didn’t try to fight. He ran. He didn’t run for the exit; he ran deeper into the Vault, away from the Guardian.

The machine paused for a fraction of a second, its programming likely confused by its target’s strange behavior. Then, its simple directive kicked in: eliminate the intruder. It turned and gave chase, its heavy footsteps echoing through the chamber.

Ryan used his superior agility and the cluttered environment to his advantage. He weaved between giant, silent machines and ducked through narrow maintenance archways.

The Guardian, with its massive size, was forced to take longer routes, sometimes having to smash through smaller obstacles, which slowed it down.

It was a terrifying game of cat and mouse, with him as the hopelessly outmatched mouse.

He led the Guardian on a chase through a maze of machinery until he reached a large, dead-end storage area filled with giant, empty containment units. It was a trap, but one he had set for the Guardian, not himself.

As the Guardian entered the storage area, its red eye scanning for him, Ryan activated his Cloak of Shifting Umbra. He blended into the deep shadows behind one of the units.

Then, using his Weaver’s Interface Gauntlet, he overloaded a small, non-critical light panel on the far side of the room. The panel exploded in a bright, harmless flash of light and a loud popping sound.

The Guardian Prime immediately turned, its red eye locking onto the source of the disturbance. Its strict programming saw the unexpected event as a possible threat to the Vault. It stomped over to investigate the fried light panel, its back now to Ryan’s hiding spot.

This was his chance.

Silent as a ghost, Ryan slipped out of the storage area, doubling back the way he came. He ran, his new boots barely making a sound on the cold stone floor.

He didn’t stop until he was back in the main, central chamber, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his bruised ribs.

He looked back and saw the Guardian, having determined the light panel was not a threat, resuming its patrol route, its heavy footsteps a constant, looming reminder of the danger that still lurked in the dark.

He had done it. He hadn’t won. He hadn’t even scratched it. But he had survived. And more importantly, he had bypassed it.

He took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against a pillar. The encounter had shaken him badly. It was a brutal lesson: there were things in this universe so far beyond his current level that his only option was to be smarter, not stronger.

Remembering the Power Core Scramble that was still raging on, he pushed himself upright. He had a job to do. He checked his Neural Map, which was no longer pointing to the Guardian, but to a different part of the Vault he had just run past.

It was a sealed Precursor armory. And according to the map’s energy readings, it was filled to the brim with exactly what he was looking for.

He made his way to the armory, his every sense on high alert, listening for the distant, rhythmic stomping of the Guardian.

He had escaped for now, but he was still trapped in the lion’s den. He just had to be quiet enough not to wake the lion again.