At the exact same moment, The Raven stood before a heavily reinforced porthole, staring at the distant, sharpening lights of the port.
The sea fog churned, slowly unveiling the unmistakable skyline of Whitecliffe Harbor.
The auction terminal in his hand was still illuminated.
The notification the ship had just sent glowed brightly on the screen: [A.W.S.-14 has entered the final transfer protocol for Whitecliffe Harbor.]
[The Reception Team will board for cargo verification upon arrival.]
[The Specialized Medical Consultant, The Panacea, will oversee the entire transfer process.]
The Raven's fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist.
It was finally time.
He had been trapped aboard Project Zero-Transit for entirely too long.
The Commodore had restricted his movements, severed his communications, and frozen every shred of clearance Obsidian Sun held on the vessel.
For the past few days, he had been confined to this single room.
Even his meals had to be inspected by the ship's security before being brought in.
He could only watch helplessly as the situation spiraled completely out of his control, utterly unable to lift a finger to stop it.
Now, Project Zero-Transit was about to dock at Whitecliffe Harbor.
As soon as they entered the port, he would have a chance to rendezvous with Obsidian Sun's operatives, reclaim his resources, and slowly wrest back control of the board.
But the moment that thought surfaced, the cold glint of hope in his eyes was violently snuffed out.
Because he knew perfectly well that once the ship docked, the absolute disaster that had unfolded on board would be relayed directly to Obsidian Sun command.
The Overlord would learn everything.
And there was no way to cover up a catastrophe of this magnitude.
It had taken Obsidian Sun years to secretly construct that hidden laboratory aboard Project Zero-Transit.
They had bribed the crew, established a medical smuggling pipeline, embedded their agents, and painstakingly concealed the entire facility inside the ship's infrastructure.
It was supposed to be their most untouchable asset on the high seas.
Now, that facility had been reduced to ashes.
Years of irreplaceable research data had been incinerated.
Their deep-cover operatives on the crew had been brutally purged.
Worse still, Obsidian Sun had entirely lost the trust of Project Zero-Transit, permanently forfeiting their partnership with the vessel.
And their secret shipping route-the one they had run for years right under the ship's nose—had been completely exposed.
But the most devastating blow of all
was Specimen Fourteen. The
Panacea had dragged him onto the auction
on block and paraded hing
front of the world's most dangerous syndicates.
The existence of the Obsidian Augments had now caught the attention of global apex predators.
Obsidian Sun's most closely guarded ambition had been dragged into the bloody daylight.
And as the final insult, he had
drained the entirety of the
syndicate's operational funds on this
ship one hundred and thirty billion
dollars just to buy back an as
they already owned.
Never in the history of the organization had they suffered such a catastrophic, humiliating string of defeats!
And it had all happened on his watch.
When the news reached headquarters, the blame would fall squarely, exclusively on his shoulders.
The Raven swallowed hard, his throat dry.
He couldn't even fathom how he was going to explain this absolute slaughter to The Overlord.
Could he say The Panacea was too brilliant a strategist?
Could he say The Commodore refused to show them mercy?
Or could he admit that he had underestimated that woman from the very beginning, allowing her to systematically tear his entire empire" to shreds?
But no matter what excuse he gave...
It wouldn't erase the staggering devastation they had endured.
Imagining The Overlord's reaction, a suffocating wave of despair crashed over him.
No... The Overlord didn't care about the hurdles. He wouldn't care how ruthless The Panacea was.
The Overlord only cared about results.