SSS Awakening: I Can Devour Gods to Evolve My Goddesses

Chapter 16: He Bought an Entire Crew. I Let Only One Man Through the Gate

The next afternoon, the proposal seal of the Newcomer Divine Essence Ranking lit up again.

It had only one recipient.

[CASSIAN VALE.]

The golden lightning pattern on the seal belonged to Rowan.

Cassian opened the proposal. The first line asked neither for a location nor what he was transporting.

[THREE ANONYMOUS RECORDS SUGGEST THAT A HEAVY-HAUL OPERATION MAY STILL LACK A SECOND OBSERVATION POST. IF THIS ASSESSMENT IS WRONG, DISREGARD THIS PROPOSAL.]

It was not proof.

Rowan did not pretend to know more than he did. He had simply paid for the possibility already.

A two-man heavy-haul crew would remain available until sunset the next day. Their full-day reservation fee had been paid and was non-refundable. If Cassian agreed, the crew could provide a second observer and determine on-site where the second fixed point should go.

The price was one site inspection and priority negotiation when the line carried out its first valuable cargo.

The proposal asked for no ownership. It merely wanted to place one hand beside Cassian’s future spoils ahead of time.

Cassian read the paper twice.

It was a professional solution. Two men could fill both gaps in a single day, with less immediate risk than finding someone at the last moment.

More irritating was the fact that Rowan did not even know who the three black lines belonged to, yet he was willing to buy an entire crew’s day.

He could buy ”waiting.”

Cassian was still calculating whether to let one man see the Gate.

Envy lodged in his chest like a fine thorn. He wanted other people’s time lined up before him like that too.

His finger pressed down on the words ”priority negotiation.”

Let the crew finish the work first, then argue later over what ”priority” was actually worth?

He rejected the thought—not because it was ugly, but because it was unprofitable.

If he could turn an agreed condition into wastepaper, every future trader would add the risk of ”Cassian may default” to their price.

That would cost far more than one crew. Credit was an asset too, and he was not yet rich enough to burn it carelessly.

But Rowan was selling a one-time completion.

The crew could solve the problem once. Replace them tomorrow, and someone would have to relearn the first relay’s skew, the sounds of the rope, and the warning that came half a turn early.

He did not need two men for one day.

He needed the same pair of eyes for seven days.

Rowan’s plan was still good. It simply did not fit this territory.

Veyra read only the two parts Cassian handed her: the site inspection and the priority negotiation right over the first valuable haul.

Her hand remained beside Orin’s empty slot in the long black-gold case.

”If you want to open the Gate, that is your decision.”

Veyra raised her eyes.

”But the names in this case are not yours to use as proof of the cargo’s value. Nor will you put them beneath a steel cable to test its load.”

Cassian had never intended to let the crew touch the main roll, yet a flicker of displeasure still crossed his chest when he heard her draw the line.

Then he noticed the words Veyra had used—your decision.

The Chain Gate was his to open.

The Third Formation’s dead were hers to guard.

Neither of them had consented for the other.

Two boundaries that refused to yield had aligned instead.

”They won’t see the case,” Cassian said. ”And they won’t see you.”

”Then decide who you are willing to let see the road.”

Veyra pushed the proposal back.

Cassian did not contact Rowan.

He went to the dead drop on the graystone slope and left Marek a new work order. Their old tasks were already settled.

[SEVEN DAYS. FIRST RELAY OBSERVATION POST.]

[ONE FULL LABOR FEE BUYS YOUR AVAILABILITY FOR SEVEN DAYS. EACH ACTUAL ENTRY WILL BE PRICED SEPARATELY.]

[YOU DECIDE WHEN TO CALL FOR A STOP. I DECIDE WHO ENTERS, WHAT MOVES, AND WHEN WE START AGAIN.]

Marek’s reply appeared in the stone crevice before nightfall.

[I MAY REFUSE ANY ENTRY. I WILL CONTINUE TAKING OTHER WORK DURING THE SEVEN DAYS. I CHOOSE HOW I OBSERVE.]

[AGREED.]

No loyalty. Only a price and a position that, for now, Marek alone knew.

That suited Cassian better than an oath.

On the second day, only half a day remained on Rowan’s proposal.

Cassian first dragged the closed black-gold case behind the Shrine’s stone wall, into a blind spot. Veyra and the Core also remained where Marek would never see them.

Then he met Marek outside.

Marek put on the cloth hood before they came near the true entrance. Cassian led him personally.

The stones underfoot, the number of turns, and the distance at which the Chain Gate’s broken links began to scrape would not vanish because of one layer of cloth.

Once Marek entered, he would remember the true route and the scale of the Gate.

Cassian gripped the rusted lever. A thin film of sweat formed across his palm.

He liked winches that could be reversed, jobs that expired, and gates that could be closed again.

Human memory could not.

”You still have time to change your mind,” Marek said from beneath the hood.

”The same goes for you.”

Cassian pressed down the lever.

The residual chains drew tight link by link, then yielded under his hand until the opening was just wide enough for one man.

The Gate had not opened by itself.

Cassian had opened it with his own hand.

Marek crossed the threshold. The residual chains closed behind him at once.

Cassian did not remove the hood until they had passed through the eastern corridor and reached the near side of the first black-gold span.

Marek looked first at the winch, then at the immense black-gold plate laid across the darkness. For one instant, his expression emptied.

”Three labor fees,” he said. ”Toren didn’t charge much.”

A small surge of satisfaction pushed aside some of the chill in Cassian’s chest.

This was his road. Marek’s first response upon seeing it was to calculate its price.

”Your range ends at the first relay,” Cassian said. ”Watch the fixed point and judge when to stop. Don’t ask what lies farther ahead.”

Marek did not ask.

Cassian crossed once by himself, empty-handed. Only after the palm marks at both ends remained locked and the plate showed no sign of sinking did he return alone to the near side.

Marek left his tools on the stone shoulder and looped only a short hemp rope around his arm. He stepped onto the black-gold plate alone while Cassian remained on the near side. There was never more than one man on the span.

He did not wait for Cassian to tell him where to place each foot.

This proved only that one empty-handed adult could cross alone.

It proved nothing about a load, cargo, or two people crossing at once.

Only after Marek stepped onto the stone shoulder at the first relay did Cassian walk onto the black-gold plate with the final rock bolt and the iron hammer.

The old bolt had failed because it had endured continuous drag. Driving the new one into the same cracked hole would only buy the same failure again.

Cassian found intact stone beside it and hammered in the new rock bolt.

It would not pull the load. It existed only to give warning.

The old wound in his right shoulder cinched tight as the hammer fell. Cassian lowered his stance and kept striking until the bolt head no longer shifted.

A broken piece of the Gate lay beside the first relay, nearly half his size. Cassian cut a deep line across its surface with the broken chain blade.

That was the limit. Until they tested again, nothing heavier would move.

The arrangement was simple.

The main steel cable did the pulling.

The short rope gave an early warning.

If Marek saw a problem, he called for a stop.

Cassian returned to the near side and closed both hands around the winch. Marek remained at the first relay and chose a position where he could see both the stone and the short rope.

”If either side calls stop, we stop immediately,” Cassian said. ”I decide when we start again.”

Marek raised one hand to show he had heard.

Cassian turned the winch.

The ratchet teeth bit. The main steel cable slowly drew taut. The broken stone shuddered and began moving toward the black-gold plate.

The first turn went smoothly.

On the second, the front of the stone had already crossed the relay’s edge.

”Stop.”

Marek’s voice carried across the span.

Cassian’s first thought was that he had called too early.

The winch already held the load. Only half a turn remained.

But the instant Marek spoke, Cassian’s hands truly stopped.

The ratchet froze in place.

At the far end, the short rope had already gone taut. The stone was beginning to skew toward one side. Another turn would have turned it into a real problem.

Nothing moved. Nothing broke.

They had stopped early enough.

Cassian stared at the rope. The first feeling to rise inside him was not relief.

It was irritation.

Marek was right.

Cassian locked the ratchet, returned to the first relay, and moved the warning rope to a clearer position.

No praise. No explanation.

”Watch it again,” he said.

Marek changed positions.

”I will.”

Cassian returned to the winch.

On the second attempt, the broken stone came fully onto the black-gold plate.

The main steel cable drew in inch by inch. Marek neither hurried him nor called out every inch of distance. He watched only the far end Cassian could not see.

The stone passed the midpoint and crept toward the near side.

When its last corner cleared the edge of the relay, the short rope went slack.

Marek raised his hand.

”Stop.”

Cassian stopped.

The broken stone settled intact on the near side.

Marek retrieved his short hemp rope, coiled it, and hung it over his arm again.

No one declared the road safe from that day onward.

But the deep line on the stone had traveled from the first relay to Cassian’s feet.

Yesterday, he had been forced to run back and forth between two positions by himself.

Today, he stood at the near side and turned the winch while the first relay still had a pair of eyes that could call for a stop on their own.

The stone had reached his feet.

Those eyes were still at their post.

When the proposal seal lit again, sunset had already passed.

Cassian opened the updated paper.

[AVAILABILITY PERIOD ENDED.]

[ONE-DAY AVAILABILITY FEE FOR TWO-MAN HEAVY-HAUL CREW SETTLED. NON-REFUNDABLE.]

[SITE INSPECTION AND SUBSEQUENT PRIORITY-NEGOTIATION PROPOSAL CLOSED.]

Rowan had not broken the agreement. He was still the richer man.

He had paid the price of an entire crew to leave two men idle for a day.

In the end, they had not even seen where the Gate was.

Rowan had bought an entire crew’s day.

Cassian needed one man’s seven days.

And Cassian had opened the Gate only once—for the man he himself chose.

He looked at the broken stone by his feet. The smile on his face became harder and harder to suppress.

In the past, satisfaction had come from seizing prey with his own hands.

This time, he had not stood at the first relay. He had not seen the short rope go taut first. Marek had been the one to call stop.

The stone had still come down his transport line.

For the first time, Cassian discovered that he did not need to seize everything personally for the result to land at his feet.

The second pair of eyes at the first relay now had a name.

Marek Sorn.

Cassian wrote five lines on the back of the paper.

[MAREK WATCHES THE FIRST RELAY.]

[CASSIAN TURNS THE NEAR-SIDE WINCH.]

[IF EITHER SIDE CALLS STOP, STOP IMMEDIATELY.]

[DO NOT EXCEED THE MARKED STONE.]

[SEVEN DAYS. EVERY ENTRY OPENED BY CASSIAN.]

Marek put the hood back on for the return trip. The Chain Gate closed behind him.

”Next entry costs extra,” Marek said.

”That is why you accepted the job.”

”It is also why I haven’t become your subordinate.”

”Good.”

Cassian pressed the last length of residual chain back into place.

He did not need loyalty. For seven days, Marek only had to be worth his price at the first relay.

When Cassian returned to the Shrine, Veyra asked only one question.

”What did he see?”

”The road I allowed him to see,” Cassian said. ”No names.”

”Then you opened only the Gate.”

Veyra’s hand returned to Orin’s empty slot.

Cassian looked back at the closed Chain Gate.

Before today, he had thought a gate’s value lay in keeping everyone outside.

Now he knew it had another use.

Let the people outside prove whether they were worth opening it for.

Then he would decide—

who entered.