"You're right. That guy was pretty mysterious…"
Anton sighed. Partners like that were rare. If the president hadn't personally assured them that everything was fine, he'd have suspected there was some kind of hidden "plot" behind it.
The group left the construction site. Meanwhile, over at the Cunning Hares, Wise was explaining the situation to Nicole and the others.
Not long after, Nekomata—who was still busy helping a kitten give birth at the Tanuki House—received the news. Once she wrapped things up, she hurried back as well.
While Phaethon was out recruiting "helpers," the undercurrents of New Eridu were far from calm...
...
"This should be the place, right?"
"Yeah. It doesn't look like much, but based on the instrument readings, this is definitely it."
Outside New Eridu, a small group of researchers in white lab coats was examining a rocky area. Not far off stood their convoy, along with several squads of Defense Force soldiers keeping watch.
The Outer Ring of New Eridu was already unstable, and this location—lying even farther beyond it—was no different.
In the orange-tinted wasteland, sand and wind roared together. Towering mushroom-shaped rocks stood like ancient giants, weathered by countless years of erosion.
The place felt desolate, yet beneath the thick yellow sand, there was a faint sense of hidden life.
"Could there really be an untriggered hollow disaster node here?"
One of the researchers muttered doubtfully. Hollow disasters could sometimes be predicted, but only when the eruption was imminent did signs start to appear.
Yet this whole area was perfectly calm—not even a trace of spatial distortion. Could there really be such a thing as a "hollow disaster node" here?
He glanced at the equipment they'd brought along—machines said to be the White Star Institute's "latest scientific breakthrough."
He didn't believe it. If these devices truly worked, New Eridu would never again suffer large-scale hollow disasters.
Something that revolutionary should've caused an uproar once it was developed. But instead, it had been quietly deployed without so much as a ripple.
Worse yet, there had been no prior reports or announcements about this research at all. It made him wonder—was this whole thing just for show?
He wasn't alone in thinking that way. Others in the group wore similar looks of doubt.
Meanwhile, back at the convoy, several crew members were adjusting other instruments. Inside one of the vehicles, the team leader was speaking with a person dressed in strange attire—clearly neither a researcher nor an explorer.
"In this godforsaken place, are you sure there's really a hollow node like you said? If we come back empty-handed, we're going to have a mountain of trouble waiting for us."
The leader sighed. He knew nothing about these so-called "latest breakthroughs," and it was hard to believe any of it.
Predicting a hollow eruption this far in advance? And recovering the node itself?
It all sounded as if hollow nodes were something that could be planted at will. If the instruments were really that advanced, there was no way someone like him would've been sent to lead their first field test. That glory would've gone to someone much higher up.
He wasn't stupid—there was definitely something off about this. But the person across from him was in the same boat, and the guarantees had already been made. They'd come all this way and even lost a few men along the journey.
If they returned empty-handed now, forget keeping their positions—they might not even escape punishment.
"Don't worry..."
The robed figure chuckled softly. The voice was low, hoarse, and unsettling to hear.
"The instruments might fail... but it won't 'see' wrong."
He raised an arm slightly from beneath his robes, revealing a glimpse of what was hidden underneath. The leader's eyes flicked toward it—and his pupils constricted.
He looked back up at the figure's obscured face. No one could tell what kind of inhuman form lay beneath those robes.
No wonder this man hadn't moved much the entire trip.
The leader gave a slow nod, understanding enough to keep quiet. He already knew part of the truth—and that was more than enough.
After all, the more you knew, the sooner you died.