The adrenaline crash hit Lin Mei like a physical blow the moment the safe house door sealed shut behind them. For the past three hours, she had been a creature of pure, focused instinct, a commander operating on the knife's edge of survival. Now, in the sudden safety of the anonymous apartment, the weight of the mission came crashing down. Her hands trembled almost imperceptibly, and she balled them into fists to still them.
The air in the room was thick with the scent of spent energy packs, sweat, and the faint, coppery tang of fear. The members of her hybrid team—her own Nomad squad and the elite Iron Vultures—were stripping off their black tactical gear in a weary, practiced silence. They were professionals, but the horrors they had witnessed in the Silent Lab had left a mark, a haunted, grim look in their eyes.
Tien, the scarred leader of the Vultures, approached her. He placed a small, encrypted data drive on the cheap laminate table. "The Leech is active. Broadcasting its 'Ghost-Stream' as promised," he said, his voice a low, rough gravel. He looked down at the sleek, black 'Nyx' boots he was unlacing. "Hephaestus is a goddamn wizard. We were ghosts in there. The guards never knew what hit them."
He paused, his gaze turning distant. "But those things in the tanks... that's a sight I won't forget soon."
"No one will," Lin Mei replied, her voice tight. "You and your team performed with honor, Tien. The General will ensure your payment is... exceptional."
Tien just gave a curt nod. This mission had long since transcended money. It had become a crusade. After a final equipment check, the Iron Vultures slipped out a separate exit, melting back into the city's shadows as if they had never been there.
Lin Mei watched them go, then sank into a rickety chair. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind was still racing. With a deep breath, she opened her secure terminal and logged into the silent, sacred space of [Channel: Zero]. It was time to report to the Shepherd.
Her debriefing was a masterpiece of military precision, yet laced with a cold, controlled fury.
Nomad-Lead: Mission 2001, 'The Silent Lab,' is complete. The Leech is active and transmitting. Two Awakened guards neutralized non-lethally. Infiltration and exfiltration were successful. The Prometheus facility is unaware they have been compromised.
She then added her own assessment, her words sharp as broken glass. Nomad-Lead: A personal note on the target. Prometheus is not just conducting research; they are committing atrocities that would make Abyss monsters look humane. They are trying to create artificial Awakened by grafting Abyssal organs onto human test subjects. Based on the logs I glimpsed, the subjects are often homeless people or kidnapped hunters. It is a factory of death and madness.
The reaction from the other two core members was immediate and visceral.
Hephaestus: So, the rumors were true. The bastards. They pervert the laws of science and nature. Good. I hope the Leech bleeds them dry of every last one of their filthy secrets.
Old-Man-Jiang: You have done well to keep your composure, Captain. The moral injury of such a mission is significant. Rest. Recover. Your victory tonight has given us a weapon far greater than any sword: the truth.
It was then that Oracle blinked online, his presence a silent, immense weight that immediately commanded their full attention.
Oracle: The Ghost-Stream protocol is functioning at 100% efficiency. The first encrypted data packets are arriving. Decryption and analysis are now the primary tasks for the Chief Analyst and her Core. Oracle: Your team's performance was within acceptable parameters. A new set of bounties will be generated once the initial data has been processed.
It was a simple, cold assessment. A job well done. But Lin Mei had one last, burning question.
Nomad-Lead: Oracle... there was an operational anomaly. During exfiltration, the facility's entire external sensor grid and power system went into a cascade failure. A total blackout for exactly ninety seconds. It wasn't our doing. It was the sole reason we evaded a final high-level security patrol. Was this your intervention?
The pause that followed felt like an eternity. When the reply came, it was as profound as it was frustrating.
Oracle: A successful general does not question the storm that sinks her enemy's ships. She simply takes advantage of the favorable winds. You capitalized on an unexpected opportunity. That is the hallmark of a competent commander. Do not concern yourself with the 'how' of your luck, Captain. Focus only on what you will do next.
Lin Mei stared at the message. It was a non-answer that was, in itself, an answer. It was the casual, effortless deflection of a being for whom such "miracles" were trivial. She didn't know how he had done it, but she knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that the blackout had been no accident.
In his quiet bedroom, thousands of kilometers away, Qin Mo observed the debriefing. The "unexpected opportunity" had been a simple exertion of his will. A flick of his consciousness, empowered by the First Inheritance from his Cybernetic God avatar, had sent a ghost-in-the-machine glitch cascading through the lab's aging power grid. It was a test of his own fine control, a flex of a muscle he was only just beginning to understand.
He had won a major battle in his silent war. He had the enemy's secrets bleeding directly into his hands. His team had been forged in the crucible and emerged stronger. It was a moment of triumph.
It was time to check on his queen.
His attention shifted, his consciousness pulling back from the [Channel: Zero] and focusing on a different target. He accessed the public surveillance network of Shanghai, the city's digital eye blinking open at his silent command. He focused on the area around Shanghai No. 1 High, pulling up the archived footage from that afternoon.
He found her. Su Liying. Leaving the school gates, a picture of youthful grace and elegance. He watched her for a moment, a dispassionate observer tracking a high-value asset.
Then he saw them. Two men. Professionals. Their movements were subtle, but to his analytical mind, they were screaming their intent. They were a predator pack, isolating a target from the herd.
His eyes narrowed. A cold, silent fury, far more intense than Lin Mei's hot-blooded rage, began to build within him. He had spent the last few weeks orchestrating a complex, multi-layered operation in another city. And while he was away, the wolves had crept up to his own front door.
They were hunting his Chief Analyst. His secret-keeper.
The footage ended with Su Liying safely reaching her apartment after a "coincidentally" difficult commute, the agents having been thwarted by his invisible hand. But the threat was not gone. It was merely delayed.
He had been treating this as a grand, impersonal game of chess. He had been moving his pieces—the General, the Smith, the Soldier, the Analyst—with cold, detached strategy.
Prometheus had just made the fatal mistake of reminding him that some pieces on the board were irreplaceable. They had just made it personal.