Chapter 18: Chapter 17: OTAC (1)

The guard posts and firing positions looked more Pentagon than palace. Not the best against demons, but then again, that’s what the wall in the distance was for. The only threat worth worrying about here was simply unwanted visitors.

The singular path in was blocked by a simple checkpoint consisting of guards, a bar gate, and an arch off to the side. Kinda looked like one of those walk-through metal detectors at airports, large enough to accommodate even the Minotaurs he'd seen earlier. This had to be the nullification field Fotham mentioned.

Warren stepped out of the vehicle, producing his ID as he spoke with the guards. He beckoned for the rest of them to disembark, then approached the arch.

“Follow as I do.” He walked through it. “You shall feel naught but momentary discomfort, provided one is as they appear to be.”

“And if not?” Cole asked.

“Then one is exposed for what they truly are and eliminated accordingly.”

Cole kept his pace even as he hit the invisible wall. Something shoved his mana back toward his spine, like Magneto was trying to compress his insides. Not painful exactly, but weird as fuck. At least this procedure didn’t involve digging in his ass like with TSA. Not that anyone had ever dug into his ass, of course. Hopefully, with the nullifier as purportedly effective as it was, this realm would never have to face such an assault.

Miles grunted behind him. “Suppose it ain’t as bad as standin’ under one of them Guardians.”

“Microwaves roasting you from the inside out… Shit, imagine if all metal detectors were like that?” Cole shook his head, the pressure easing completely as he walked several feet past the arch. “At least it's quick.”

The gate opened once Mack got through, and the guards stepped aside with nods.

The drive to the main building took another few minutes, passing training grounds and some unadorned, blocky structures before pulling up to the entrance.

The main building itself had quite the first impression, though. Three stories of granite facade topped with decorative brass work, because apparently even demon hunters needed curb appeal. But to be fair, it was probably more to impress visitors. After all, what better way to say that the demon situation is under control than to wave it away with grandeur?

Warren led them up the front steps. He held up a hand, stopping them just inside the doorway.

A familiar figure stood ahead – the head of OTAC, Cullen Fernal, still rocking that brigandine. Though after the infiltration, the paranoid fashion choice made a lot more sense. More than the fancy dress uniforms the castle provided, anyway. That thousand-yard stare hadn’t changed either, though the bags under his eyes looked even heavier. Running internal security sweeps probably didn’t help with the sleep schedule.

And neither did business. He was speaking with a lupine nobleman by the main desk – your typical ‘distinguished gentleman’ with perfect posture and an equally polished manner, except of course, for the fact that he was a wolf-man. The guy wore enough rings to catch every glint of light – utility? Or some sort of flex, maybe, but one that fell beneath the Director-General’s notice.

Cole had seen enough high-level procurement meetings to read the room: the noble chose each word carefully, like he knew damn well the real power wasn’t in his rings or his title. There was something about Cullen’s intensity that made it clear who held the cards – clear even for upstuck nobles who could buy half the city.

“... contributions of House Kaldven to the expedition certainly warrant recognition, Duke Alvak,” Cullen was saying, “though not as far as to warrant deviation from protocol. The artifacts shall remain with us. However, in deference to your unwavering support, I shall extend to your scholars the courtesy of a cursory study – though only under the condition that our examinations proceed without hindrance or delay.”

“A cursory study, Director-General?” Alvak’s rings caught the light as he gestured. “A generous gesture, to be sure, though surely it would not profit your endeavors as well as extended collaboration. Indeed, I hear your teams recovered Istraynian rifles. Were these studied and adapted for broader deployment, the forces tied to colonial defense could be redistributed—perhaps to aid OTAC’s expeditions. With such arms, we might even spare a hero, if the exchange proves agreeable.”

“Our ranks are already quite sufficient. Though I am curious how your colonial forces came to be so expendable. One might think Aurelian expansion would require every soldier at your disposal.”

“Perhaps, but a single hero can only stand guard over one frontier,” Alvak pressed. “We’ve surveyed three new deposits in Gulhan as well. A hero may be sufficient for one mine alone, but your rifles would see a dozen outposts raised before next summer.”

“Gulhan, hm? Gulhan does lie rather close to Aurelian territory, does it not? You’ll forgive my reluctance to deliver such weapons to their… potential benefit.” Cullen glanced at the doorway past Cole.

Alvak turned, following Cullen’s gaze. He laid eyes on Cole and his team, probably taking their arrival as a cue to back off. “Then perhaps we might revisit this discussion, Director-General, once you’ve had the time to examine my proposal in full. I shall have my secretary deliver the details of our current operations.”

Cullen nodded. “Very well. Good day, Duke Alvak.”

“Good day, Lord Cullen.”

The noble walked past them, offering a small nod. Cullen’s eyes followed until the doors closed, then shifted to their group. His tired expression warmed slightly. “Gentlemen. Welcome to the Office of Threat Assessment and Control.”

He gestured for an aide, who brought forward a leather-bound case. “Contained herein are your credentials. You will, for now, bear the title of Slayer Recruits. A concession to propriety, nothing more. Your privileges, as agreed upon, are those of Slayer Captains.”

The brass badges had some fancy engravings worked into them, with runes Cole recognized – simple barriers. Pretty neat.

“Sir Warren shall acquaint you with our operations. We will speak again – when there is something worth discussing.” Cullen briefly analyzed their reactions, then headed off down one of the side corridors, probably to whatever kept those bags under his eyes so dark.

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Warren took them upstairs, winding through the building until they hit a set of heavy wooden doors. Cole pushed through and almost felt his jaw hang open as he took in the three-story space. Shit, it looked like a good ‘ol Tactical Operations Center, built entirely from Celdorne’s magitech and minus the computers.

“Our Operations Center,” Warren said. “The heart of OTAC's response network.”

The setup was pure JSOC, or maybe even more like SOE, Scrying Panes all around in lieu of plasma screens. Personnel were spread across both floors, coordinating with people on their Panes while runners darted between stations with physical messages. The planning table dominated the center, with unit markers dotting the large regional map of the Kingdom and the neighboring Istraynian Wastes.

“So this is what we’re up against, huh?” Mack approached the map, pointing at a large black square deep in the Wastes. “Guessin’ that’s the Demon Lord’s castle?”

“Not quite so,” Warren said, gently shaking his head. “That ruin is but the remnant of a most formidable citadel, once the stronghold of the previous Demon Lord. Whether the new one has taken residence therein… Well, the matter remains uncertain. These sable markings denote territories where we have witnessed the fiends’ depredations. Our own positions,” he indicated the blue markers beyond an outer wall labeled the ‘First Line’, “comprise outposts of inquiry, provision, and vigilance.”

“What’re all them demons doin’?” Miles asked, nodding at clusters of black pieces near several outposts.

“Goblin raids. Small bands striking swiftly, then withdrawing before reprisal. Though they have wrought little harm, this… aberration in their conduct is most concerning. These creatures, you see, have ever been known for their savage charges – possessed of wit enough to wield arms, yet naught beyond. Now, they display a measure of organization. Of tact. Purpose.”

Goblins, huh? Cole raised an eyebrow. Of course they’d be with the demons – no offense intended to the settings with good goblins, of course. Still, it did prove that quaint little adage true: a good goblin is a dead goblin. And here, they had the opportunity to make them good.

Though after seeing those minotaurs at the docks, he had to wonder what determined who ended up where.

“So they’re really evolving, then,” Ethan commented. “First time, like with their infiltration attempts?”

“Indeed… Novel too is the presence of Orcs at the helm of each raid. One might deduce their purpose – to season fresh commanders in the art of war. See how they probe each manner of outpost in turn. They, I suppose, mean to test the mettle of their leadership against varying prey.” He paused briefly. “Or perhaps, to discern which targets warrant the risk of greater force.”

Cole nodded. They were using low-risk operations to train up leadership, evidently. Not exactly a new concept, but frightening enough considering formerly mindless demons had finally started to catch up. “How’re they performing?”

“Well… I must grant them this measure of competence. Naturally, their raids remain inconsequential, yet one cannot help but observe their discipline under fire. Specifically, the nature of their retreats.”

Miles leaned in to study one of the marked outposts. “They gettin’ close to anywhere important?”

“Not as of yet. In fact, we have found these incidents rather instructive for our own purposes. Where once they would hurl themselves at our walls with savage abandon, now they strike under cover of darkness, or foul weather. They divide their forces, withdrawing the moment our positions present serious resistance.”

A hit and fade, then. This definitely didn’t line up with the relative brutishness of monsters from the various shows Cole had been exposed to.

“As witnessed at Forward Post Nolaren but a week past, if I might add, sir,” a nearby duty officer said. With a nod from Warren, he continued, “The fiends made cunning use of the dead ground for concealment – breached to within fifty yards of the eastern wall. Cunning, truly, the way they used arrows. Crude suppression, to be certain. Yet while our men were occupied with the archers, their spearmen used the distraction to probe elsewhere.”

Warren brought their attention back to the map. “Indeed, we see fit to school our forces in these varied encounters.” He pointed first to a triangle, denoting a research outpost. “Our researchers must preserve their charge above all else – their foremost duty lies in swift and orderly withdrawal. Our supply lines face different trials, should the demons prove cunning enough to recognize their worth. If they mean to learn the nature of each target… Well, let them waste their efforts. They shall find precious little for their troubles.”

Mack spoke as a duty officer updated patrol markers near Gulhan. “Looks like this is gonna be our first stop after evaluations, then.”

“Yes, though this is but the first step. From there we shall consider escort duties.” He gestured at the marked routes. “Our expeditions oft traverse these benighted wastes for days upon end. A matter you might be familiar with?”

“Somewhat,” Cole answered. “Can’t say we’ve pushed through apocalyptic ruins before, but we have had experience with embedded operations – days, weeks without support inside enemy territory. Should point out, though, that this was against our fellow man. Demons – real ones, anyway – are new to us.”

“Then you shall find this… rather different. The protocols differ markedly from human conflict – formation, response, the very manner of engagement. You shall master these matters in due course. When you have proven ready, I shall see you placed with an expedition – much like these squads here, shadowing House Kaldven’s present venture.”

Warren turned to face them. “And once you have proven yourselves in such ventures, greater opportunities shall present themselves. Our monthly expeditions, for instance. We’ve two of our finest minds occupied by an expedition. They are now conducting their studies within the ruins of an Istraynian city.”

‘Greater opportunities,’ or so Warren claimed. Classic isekai adventure, right? They must’ve had two wildly different definitions of that term. To Cole, this would be hitting up some cozy taverns, gallivanting through pristine forests, maybe slay a dragon in the process. This? Hell, their ‘epic quest’ would be picking through dead cities in the middle of a demon-infested wasteland, probably dodging eldritch monstrosities and whatever nasty surprises these Istraynians had left behind. And of course, it’d all happen in another fucking desert.

“Yeeahhh…” Cole tried tempering his thoughts. “Suppose we’ll get there when we get there.”

“Then, we shall proceed.” Warren gestured toward the door.

He led them from beneath vaulted ceilings toward the sea-facing wing. “The upper floors are reserved for matters of management. What we leave now is the domain of the Director-General himself. His trusted advisors command the adjacent wings. Ahead, Intelligence – the domain of Lady Syndra Thallen, our Deputy Director. Behind us, in the opposite direction, Sir Lorran Vonsel, who presides over Logistics.”

They continued down the corridor, passing through the administrative sections that connected the major wings. Warren’s pace suggested familiarity with the route, if not the occupants. “My own dealings with the other divisions remain largely confined to matters of simple protocol and requisition. We need not tarry here.”

No surprise there; operators didn’t exactly spend much time with admin unless something needed fixing. Each doorway they passed presented the usual office setup: staff buried in paperwork, officers reviewing reports. Important work, just not the kind worth touring.

They never actually got to meet Lady Syndra or Sir Lorran. Apparently, something about demon evolution had the leadership locked up in meetings. Eh, perfectly fine by Cole. Besides, he and the others had seen enough offices stateside to know the interesting stuff happened elsewhere: wherever they actually trained their demon hunters, and wherever they cracked open the Istraynian artifacts those expeditions brought back.

Finally, they completed the circuit around the main building and emerged through the rear doors. Damn, this place was bigger than it looked from the front. The compound was laid out like any base, with decent spacing between the various campuses, plus quite the stretch of empty land isolating what had to be the research campus.

“Come,” Warren said. “We have much ground yet to cover, and the selection of your residence to attend ere the day’s end.”

Seeing the more interesting parts of OTAC was already enticing enough, even for Ethan’s doom and gloom, but being able to finally choose their houses? Shit… say less.