Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again. - Chapter 486

Chapter 486: Punishment by proxy.
Ramesh cleared his throat and gently extended a bottle of water toward her like one might offer a piece of meat to a cornered animal. “Here,” he said. “Just… take a sip of this. Slow your breathing. Think twice before ordering us to invade Ferry Island out of spite.”

Emily snatched it from his hand, glared outside the window, then huffed out a humorless laugh. “That is exactly what I am thinking. Why take only the fortress. Why not take the whole city? Why share power when I can rule alone?”

The car fell into uneasy silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and Emily’s sharp exhales as she tried_ and failed_ to calm herself.

Dr. Ramesh wondered if Vicente had perhaps breathed some mist into Emily’s brain. Yes, she was powerful, but so were their neighbors. A peaceful resolution was better than resorting to unnecessary Violence.

They could not fight Vicente. And they certainly couldn’t fight the fourth queen.

When Emily reached Kingsbridge, the shift in her mood was so sharp it might as well have been announced over the loudspeakers, and everyone who saw her instinctively stepped aside, pretended to be busy, or suddenly remembered an urgent task elsewhere, because the way she moved_ jaw tight, shoulders squared, eyes cold_ was the unmistakable walk of someone who had already run out of patience long before arriving.

The first thing out of her mouth was not a greeting, not a report request, but a single name spoken like a demand and a prayer all at once.

“Where is Joy!?” She screamed.

And the courtyard, moments ago filled with the hum of end-of-day routines, went quiet enough that even the flags above seemed to still. A manor guard stepped forward, spine straight but hands betraying him as they trembled slightly at his sides, his voice loud and disciplined in that way soldiers use when fear is knocking at the door.

“Joy is not back yet ma’am.”

Emily punched a wall. She had been holding on to hope that perhaps Joy was not the woman that had been captured. But the more time passed without her return, the more that hope died.

Dr. Ramesh was the first to break, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. “I have a bad feeling.” The kind that settled in the bones and refused to move.

Captain Hank_ already pacing, already angry_ snapped like a wire pulled too tight, swearing that he had known this would happen. “I told you that sending Joy anywhere near Fortress Four was a mistake from the start, if she is the spy that was captured then it is only a matter of time before secrets began to spill, whether through torture or temptation!”

The way he said it, sharp and accusatory, made it clear who he thought should bear the blame.

Emily turned slowly.

There was no warning, no raised voice, no dramatic pause.

One moment Captain Hank was breathing, the next her fist connected with his skull with a sickening finality that silenced the courtyard in an instant.

His body collapsed to the stoned ground like a dropped puppet, blood spread outward in an obscene, glossy pool that reflected the fading light, and the collective gasp that followed sounded less like shock and more like terror finally finding air.

Someone retched, someone covered her eyes. Most people froze and nobody dared to move.

Emily looked down at the body, flexed her hand once as if annoyed by the effort, then lifted her eyes to the frozen crowd and asked evenly, almost conversationally, “Does anyone else feel like sending Joy to Fortress Four was a bad idea,”

The silence that answered her was so absolute it felt rehearsed.

She exhaled sharply. “Bring me all the people that went to the open market of Fortress Four.”

Guards fanned out, human and superhuman, all in a rush to get away from her. If someone else could take the brunt of her anger, it would be better for them all.

When they arrived it was in their usual fashion_ silks, polished boots, jewelry that caught the setting sun just right_ flanked by servants carrying bags, documents, drinks, and even folding stools, because old habits died harder for them than most people.

The moment their eyes landed on the corpse cooling in the center of the courtyard, the color drained from their faces, confidence evaporated as quickly as it had formed, some swallowed nothing over and over. For others, anger set in their bones. Captain Hanks was a superhuman. His death was a loss to the team of those protecting them.

“Another temper tantrum.” A middle-aged man whose wrist flashed a fancy bejeweled watch whispered.

“Shh.” His wife hissed at him.

Emily stood before them like a storm given human shape, massaging her temples with both hands, her restraint hanging by a thread, and even those who had never feared her before felt it then, the sense that today was not the day for clever words or subtle defiance.

They arranged themselves into a loose curve around her without being told, servants hovering behind them like shadows.

For a moment nobody spoke, until Mr. Elton Kennel_ still proud, still foolishly brave_ cleared his throat and asked, with forced dignity. “Why is Captain Hank lying dead with his brains staining the ground?”

Emily lifted her head slowly, and those who knew her best felt their stomachs drop, because she had that angry mean look on her face.

“Mr. Elton,” she said calmly, “I will be asking all the questions today,” and then, without raising her tone, she spoke again. “I heard some of you had traveled to Fortress Four without my permission.”

Eyes darted, shoulders shifted, and eventually Elton spoke again. “Many of us were businessmen in the old world. We saw the names of our old friends or partners on the flyers. A market held by men of their caliber in such times is not to be looked down on. And we were right to go because we acquired many supplies which are not available here. Surely no permission was needed for us to go beyond the town.”

“We have already made plans to visit the next market.” Another spoke up with a smile. “Our families are already compiling lists of what we need, that they can supply to us.”

Emily nodded along, humming softly as if considering his words.

“And Joy? Did any of you see my maid?” Emily asked.

The men and women exchanged glances and shook their heads. Some even wondered who Joy was.

Emily straightened and said, almost gently. “Fortress Four is an enemy state, trading with it was treasonous. Treason has consequences. As much as I hate doing this, I am afraid that an example must be made in order for the lesson I am teaching to last long.”

She could not punish the rich _ their wealth fed Kingsbridge, armed it, kept its lights on_ but their servants, were another matter entirely. She fished out a gun with terrifying ease, and before anyone could process what was happening, shots rang out in rapid succession, bodies dropped, bags hit stone, blood mingled until the courtyard smelled of only fear.

When it was over the wealthy stood scattered and broken.