Even so, the mere mention of Obsidian Sun brought an unconcealed look of disgust and high alert to many faces.
They were an organization that operated entirely without limits.
They fed human lives into their laboratories like kindling.
To achieve their goals, they would trample over the most fundamental rules of engagement without a second thought.
Doing business with a syndicate like that, and allowing them to retain control over a batch of combat-ready Obsidian Augments...
Those were two very different realities.
Especially for the buyers who, mere minutes ago, had been feverishly calculating
the profitability of mass-producing these assets.
As they looked back toward the quarantine pod, their expressions had fundamentally shifted.
If this technology fell into their own hands, it would be an incalculable advantage.
But what if it remained in the hands of Obsidian Sun?
This was Obsidian Sun—a globally reviled, ruthlessly amoral underground empire.
Pouring years of blood and treasure into creating augments that shattered the limits of human capability... they clearly weren't doing it just to breed an invincible bodyguard.
What exactly were they planning to do with these weapons?
"So, Specimen Seven and Fourteen are both their prototypes?"
"How many more do they have stockpiled?"
"Obsidian Sun didn't drain their resources creating these things just to sell them to the highest bidder."
What was their endgame?
Almost simultaneously, the chilling phrase The Panacea had used earlier echoed in everyone's minds-The Undead Legion.
A collective shiver rippled through the crowd.
If Obsidian Sun had truly stabilized the manufacturing process... if they could leverage this tech to forge an entire legion of eternal, painless, superhuman augments that operated under a unified command structure...
A single Specimen Fourteen was terrifying enough.
But an entire army of them?
And an army controlled by Obsidian Sun, no less.
Who could guarantee they wouldn't be the syndicate's next target?
As the realization dawned, a wave of gazes snapped toward the man in the grinning mask standing nearby.
"Mr. Wraith, you're the apex broker
iS
on the Obsidian Dark Web. Your intel legendary Have you heard. anything about Obsidian Sunts recent movements?"
The moment the question dropped, all eyes turned to him.
The Grinning Wraith.
To sit on his throne, he had to hold far more than just a rolodex of hitmen.
He managed the darkest commissions, the most deeply buried transactions.
Secrets that these elites couldn't even begin to unearth were likely common knowledge to someone like him.
"Obsidian Sun..." Jasper murmured, feeling the weight of their attention. He casually traced the edge of his mask with a fingertip.
He drew out the syllables, feigning a deep, conflicted hesitation.
Pinet
After a long, agonizing pause, a lethal smile curled his lips. "As a matter of fact I do know a little something about their repent ambitions."
The crowd leaned in, breathless. "Oh? Care to share?"
Jasper didn't disappoint. He flashed a brilliant, entirely unapologetic grin at Director Kaelen.
Then, with agonizing slowness, he
drawled, "It goes much deeper. Even the relationship between Obsidian Sun and Project Zéro-Transit sŵnovels
"Mr. Wraith," Director Kaelen interrupted sharply, his face like thunder.
His tone remained nominally polite.
But there was a distinct, razor-sharp edge of warning buried in the words.