One hour later
"...That bastard Regulus, what the hell is he doing now!?"
Kal'tsit was visibly irritated.
She had postponed a surgery just to wait for Revy, and in the end, he never showed up.
"That Sarkaz gentleman seemed to have taken a phone call and left suddenly. About twenty minutes ago," reported one of the medics aboard the ship.
"Did you happen to notice where Re— I mean, where that gentleman went?"Amiya, standing beside Kal'tsit, couldn't help but show her concern.
Rhodes Island hadn't been peaceful recently. Many veteran operators were aware that something major was going to happen within the coming week. And Amiya had been preparing for it for a long time—this was even one of the rare times she and Kal'tsit had disagreed.
Revy's participation was a game-changer for this operation. With his field experience and deep familiarity with the terrain of Chernobog, Amiya was confident she could cut projected losses by at least half.
"If I remember correctly, I think he went to Victoria," the medic said, pushing bangs over her eyes nervously. "But before he left, he did say something like... 'I'll be back as soon as possible.'"
(Back as soon as possible, huh...)
Amiya knew she couldn't expect too much.
Even though he was still the same person, it was clear that the current Regulus was no longer who he used to be. Kal'tsit had tacitly approved her decision to recruit him, even granting him senior operator privileges directly—but she had also subtly warned Amiya not to treat Revy like the same man he once was.
Still, just like "the Doctor," Revy's presence—no matter how long he stayed—held a profound and unique significance for her, and for many Rhodes Island operators who had been around since the Babel era.
(Let's hope... it's not too late.)
Three hours later, Victoria – Paisley Transit Hub
"Huff..."
Taking in a deep breath of Victorian air, Revy furrowed his brows slightly.
(I really don't like this air... It reeks of industrial grease and microscopic dust particles.)
Much of Victoria's prosperity came from its powerful industrial base. The western city of Glasgow, in particular, was considered its heart—hailed as the "Industrial Core of Victoria."
But the overexploitation of Originium fuel and industrial growth had ravaged the environment. It was said that in the northern city of Wornum, a thick haze hung over the skies day and night.
"I do feel a bit guilty about leaving Amiya behind like that... but what I have to do here can't wait."
Shaking his head to clear the distractions, Revy looked up and strode out purposefully.
As he walked through the streets, he drew plenty of looks—some shocked, some disgusted. His Sarkaz horns and the distinct tail were far too eye-catching. Even in relatively progressive Victoria, anti-Sarkaz sentiment was rampant.
Regardless, Revy had to come here.
As a Catastrophe Messenger, he had made contact and formed cooperative relationships with many forces. From Sarkaz mercenary groups and Kjerag's commercial guilds, to Blacksteel, Rhine Lab, Thor Industries, and even the crime families of Siracusa—Revy had worked with them all.
But among them, the most secretive and dangerous organization was undoubtedly Crisis Contract.
On the surface, Crisis Contract functioned like an independent intel exchange system. It accepted special missions from individuals or groups and passed them on to qualified operatives—essentially a mercenary-based "black market." Even Rhodes Island maintained limited cooperation with them in exchange for financial resources.
No one knew how large Crisis Contract really was or who ran it. But wherever life existed—be it the frozen mountains or scorching wastelands—Crisis Contract was there.
Such a vast presence, yet it remained shrouded in mystery. Just thinking about it sent chills down the spine.
Revy had always been cautious when dealing with Crisis Contract, only turning to them when absolutely necessary—for contracts, intel trades, and little else.
However, before he returned to Rhodes Island, he had once posted a heavily funded bounty for a critical piece of information. Back then, he had merely hoped for the best, not expecting Crisis Contract to actually deliver.
But they did. And the price for that intel far exceeded Revy's budget.
Knowing they had him cornered, Crisis Contract leveraged it. In the end, Revy had no choice but to pay with a favor.
A favor he was now forced to repay.
A communication received at Rhodes Island summoned him directly to Victoria. No specifics were mentioned—only that the mission was time-sensitive, and he had to arrive immediately.
In an age where encrypted digital messaging was the norm, face-to-face meetings seemed antiquated—but human memory remained one of the most secure forms of data transmission.
Setting aside flaws in human nature, of course.
Revy arrived at a small café. Its weathered walls told of its long history, while worn furniture and dusty menus suggested a place long neglected. And yet, strangely, it still operated.
Without hesitation, Revy walked straight to the center table, where an elderly Victorian Feline man—seemingly just a regular old gentleman—sat quietly sipping coffee.
Standing silently behind him, Revy waited.
"Don't worry, you're in the right place. I'm the one you're here to see," the old man said. "Sit. No need for secrecy here. Order something if you like."
"..."
Revy let out a small sigh of resignation, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
"Might as well cut to the chase. Tell me what I need to do—because after this, I won't owe you anything."