The more The Cloaked Figure processed it, the more terrifying it became.
Whoever pulled this off didn't just steal Specimen Fourteen-they hijacked the entire auction to put it on display!
His face drained of color as a suffocating wave of pure, icy dread crawled up his spine.
Who is it?!
Who had the absolute genius to sever their root access?!
Who was pulling these strings?!
But he was violently out of time.
The remote override was dead. He couldn't stop the pod's movement, and he sure
as hell couldn't trigger the kill switch.
How was he going to stop this nightmare from hitting the stage?
He snapped his head up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the massive screen as his mind raced for a physical solution.
But clearly... the odds were impossible.
The stage was barricaded by management's elite security teams.
And that was just the ones visible in the light.
Plus, every single buyer in the room was entirely hyper-fixated on the transit doors.
There was no way he could just casually stroll onto the stage and physically rip the power cords out of the pod.
The second he made a move, he would immediately expose his ties to the specimen.
Worse, he would instantly paint a massive target on his own back for every mercenary in the room!
No. He couldn't stay here.
If a frontal assault was suicide, he needed an alternative angle.
He made the call instantly.
Pocketing the dead remote, he used the chaotic, screaming crowd as cover and slipped quietly out of his seat.
Staying low behind the throngs of irate buyers, he charted a discreet path toward the nearest exit.
Yet, the moment he stepped into the side aisle.
A heavily armed squad of elite mercenaries blocked his path entirely.
They were geared for war. Their formation was flawless, aggressively sealing off any chance of escape.
He halted, his eyes narrowing dangerously beneath his hood.
He immediately caught the discrepancy.
These weren't standard security.
They reeked of the cold, mechanical ruthlessness that only came from surviving endless rivers of blood.
Especially the man leading them. Clad in pitch-black tactical gear, his posture was imposing and dominant.
A mask obscured the lower half of his face, leaving only a pair of striking, predatory grayish-blue eyes visible.
They were terrifyingly dead and completely unbothered.
It was Jerrick.
Jerrick stood dead center in the exit archway, his massive frame an absolute barricade.
The Cloaked Figure lowered his voice to a venomous threat. "Move."
Jerrick stared back blankly. His
grayish-blue gaze remained
completely indifferent. "No
vel
unauthorized departures during the
showcase of Living Assets.
He raised a hand, gesturing politely but forcefully back toward the seating area.
The man's expression twisted under his hood. "I have no interest in this item. My departure will not disrupt your event."
Jerrick didn't flinch. "Management rules. Save your lack of interest until the showcase concludes."
Scowling, the man subtly shifted his
hand beneath his robes, inching
'ne
toward the weapon at high
"The lot hasn't even begun.
On what
are you detaining ab
Jerrick's eyes briefly tracked the movement beneath the cloak, yet his posture remained aggressively
relaxed. "Asset is in
e transithub.
The floor is under hard lockdown. All exits are sealed."
He shifted his stance slightly.
The mercenaries behind him synchronized, taking one heavy step forward.
In the periphery, heavily armed squads had simultaneously locked down every single remaining exit.