The live feed panned upward, soaring over a crowd at least ten meters deep to capture the bizarre sight of over a hundred people collapsed quietly in the distance.
Those few seconds of footage packed an information overload. The camera eagerly swung back to the purple-haired girl as the reporter pressed on excitedly. “How’d you do it? Magic? Qigong? Oh, is it connected to that Death God blowing up online lately? Did you borrow His divine power?”
“…” The purple-haired girl eyed him like an idiot. “No, this is just a side product from a new side hustle our dean dug up. Can’t mass-produce it, but it lets you control the range and intensity—a sonic weapon.”
The purple-haired security guard eyed the reporter warily, clearly having zero trust in his profession.
“To clarify upfront, this weapon’s different from the sonic weapons on the market. It doesn’t damage organs or nerves at all—just knocks people out.”
The group representative watched the chat scroll wildly beside the footage:
【Quick science: The so-called ‘knockout sonic weapons’ floating around the market are all subpar. No one’s cracked a version that only stuns without harming the body.
If this guard’s telling the truth… damn, what kind of background does this dean have? Unearths a side gig, and the byproduct shatters military tech barriers?】
【? But she just raised her hand… wait, is that ‘weapon’ the half-glove on her hand?!】
【Gotta be! I zoomed in earlier—the palm has a silver-gray ring right in the center. Her hand dropped before I could get a good look!】
【Whoa… sounds like a killer self-defense tool?】
【Dream on. Didn’t you hear? Can’t mass-produce it.】
【No mass production? Doesn’t matter—this thing’s too convenient. If everyone’s got one, greetings would turn into stun-fests. Total chaos.
What about the government forces? Government forces, show up!! Just half a month ago, weren’t you complaining about lacking non-lethal weapons that pay out enemies without collateral? Causing civilian casualties in that terror attack? Come check this out!】
The group representative nearly spat blood. “Who… who the hell brought in these reporters?”
Had they shelled out big bucks to hire the Wanderers Group just to serve as live targets for the orphanage’s new weapon R&D? Now the internet was buzzing with calls for the government forces to place orders! All that money down the drain, just to advertise for the orphanage?
As if on cue, in the suite next door, Sir Mortimer was raging at his own aides.
“Who hired these attackers!? Treating the reporters I paid top dollar to plant as some free ad space!?”
He jabbed furiously at his computer screen. “Look! Just look! These idiots are cursing me out while begging me to cut checks to my enemies! Bah! I’d never place a single order with that orphanage!”
Between the two suites.
In Room 1102, G8273 lounged lazily on the sofa by the window. Across from him, Councilor Ronan and Robert were tuned into the same live stream.
Councilor Ronan watched the broadcast and comments with keen interest. “If that sonic weapon really works as this purple-haired girl claims—knocking people out without bodily harm—then I should definitely consider equipping the government forces with a few sets. What do you think, Gabriel?”
Gossip was always the best icebreaker outside work hours, especially when cozying up to potential partners.
Councilor Ronan’s goal was clear: she’d invited G8273 tonight to secure Babylon Company’s backing.
“I recall the dean of that orphanage has quite the close relationship with Mr. Hardy?”
Heaven and earth could attest—Lady Ronan’s “close relationship” was nothing more than simple friendship.
But G8273, fresh off the banquet fiasco where his date had been poached, had his nerves rattled. “What? No. He’s my lover.”
Nasir, walking in with pastries for the pair, froze at the bombshell. “Who? Who’s whose lover?”
Lady Ronan’s expression mirrored his shock. “Hold on—if the intel I’ve heard is right, that dean from Hali seems to be an item with Lancer Vincent?”
“…” G8273 felt a pang in his chest. “But Lancer Vincent died from drug overdose.”
“But it’s been less than half a month since he passed?”
Nasir, still holding the pastries he’d forgotten about, plopped down on the nearest seat. “God, generally I’m fine with… relationship changes, but Little Mr. Vincent’s an acquaintance of mine no matter what. I have to say, this is a bit unethical!”
Little Mr. Vincent himself: “…”
Aliases really couldn’t be thrown around lightly—who knew when a past convenience would boomerang back?
G8273 kept a straight face and bluffed. “He cut in and stole my love first. Hali and I… we’ve been together for ages.”
Nasir was about to point out, “You sure? That dean’s not the type to get ‘stolen,'” when Lady Ronan gasped, whispering involuntarily, “—So that rumor is true?”
“?” G8273 and Nasir turned in unison. What rumor now?
Lady Ronan lowered her voice. “The whisper from the Dismer Gang? That Mr. Hardy tried wedging into your relationship, and at the previous banquet, Mr. Hardy even brought the dean along—and you stormed over and snatched him back yourself!”
Nasir’s jaw dropped wider. “What?? The date you tried inviting but got rejected—that was the dean??”
What a mess! Utter chaos!
Who could’ve guessed? Lady Ronan had just meant to segue into business talk, but like a kitten batting at a ball of yarn, she’d tugged one thread and unraveled a tangled mess.
Lady Ronan figured she had enough juicy quadrangle drama to kill boredom at work for the next month.
“So, what’s the deal with that dean? Anyone who can tangle with you, Mr. Hardy, and Little Mr. Vincent must have an impressive background himself.”
G8273: “…” How had a simple two-person—no, two-nonhuman—relationship ballooned to include so many names? “Forgive me, I can’t say outright. If you must know, his identity is an unspeakable secret.”
G8273 was stating a metaphysical fact, but Lady Ronan could only parse it scientifically.
To think the dean’s status was that extraordinary—maybe she really should pursue a collaboration with him under the government forces’ banner?
That would beef up their arsenal, build rapport with the dean, and by extension, secure Mr. Hardy and Gabriel’s support. It wasn’t just a sure win; it was winning big.
Ronan immediately raised her hand, signaling Robert to dial the Dean’s number for her.
In Phoenix District, inside the orphanage.
Hastur glanced down at his phone as it vibrated once. The screen displayed a text from G8273: 【1】
It was short, but the meaning was crystal clear: Councilor Ronan’s persuasion efforts had succeeded.
Any tentative notions Hastur had harbored instantly settled. He waited a few seconds before his phone rang. “Hello? Oh, Lady Ronan? I didn’t expect you’d call at a time like this.”
“I’m terribly sorry. I know you’re busy settling in the orphans right now. But I saw that miraculous glove during the live broadcast. I was wondering if there’s any chance the government forces could procure a few sets?”
Lady Ronan paused briefly before making a savvy addition. “If the price is right, I’d also like to sign supply orders for other special weapons—and quickly.”
Politicians were like starving hyenas, swarming toward any whiff of profit.
Ronan had no intention of letting rival competitors beat her to this orphanage connection.
Hastur put up a token show of reluctance, but soon, under Lady Ronan’s persistent urging, he sent over a full list of immediately available armaments from the factory, along with those in development. Half a minute later, her reply came through.
“Excellent. In ten minutes, you’ll receive a contract. I hope you’ll find the terms satisfactory. Once it’s signed, we’ll wire the deposit to your account within five minutes. I look forward to a smooth partnership.”
Hastur ended the call with satisfaction. As he waited for the deposit to arrive, he noticed Kid Sis walking past him, her face lost in thought.
“Ten minutes to lock in a government military procurement deal, and five minutes for the deposit… It seems Ronan’s influence in the government runs deep.”
Hastur: “…”
Was it his imagination, or was Alpha starting to resemble the Boss more and more?
With his hairs standing on end, he waited until the deposit hit his account. Then he promptly opened the building panel.
First, he divided the second floor into three separate levels, each with a ceiling height of 2.8 meters. Next, he arranged the dormitories by gender, with public bathrooms on every floor. The eight-person rooms would suffice for housing this batch of children for the time being. Once the balance arrived, he could think about expansions.
The System registered all 365 children with flawless efficiency and assigned them to appropriate dorms. Hastur clicked confirm with immense relief, finalizing the entire no-risk windfall deal—
Boom…
The ground beneath his feet trembled faintly.
Hastur tensed immediately. Had he just signed the order when the armaments factory exploded? Before the thought could fully form, the long-silent System chimed a rapid series of alerts:
【Your [Hali Orphanage] has been upgraded! Current rating: P】
【Your [Hali Orphanage] has been upgraded! Current rating: A】
【Your [Hali Orphanage] has been upgraded! Current rating: E】
【You have obtained the special venue effect: [Carcosa’s Sunward Side]】
【Description: If you gaze upon the orphanage long enough, you might glimpse that long-lost City of the Dead.】
A cascade of white text scrolled up the right side of his vision. Hastur fixed his eyes on that special venue effect, his heart pounding heavily and powerfully.
Logic told him this was likely the game’s subtle nudge—an invisible prod to lure him toward the real Carcosa by hastening task completion with visions of the place.
But emotion overrode it. He swallowed repeatedly, unable to stop himself, his palms slick with cold sweat before he even realized.
Time marched on. The security guards continued bustling about, helping escort the orphans.
At some point, a scream erupted from the direction of the orphanage entrance, followed by a wave of alarmed cries.
“That kid! Rotting flesh is falling off that kid!!”
“Ah!!! My hand! My hand!”
“Don’t touch any of those kids with rotting flesh on them!! They’ve definitely got some highly contagious virus!!”
Hastur’s head snapped up.
No one had anticipated an incident like this—not Hastur, nor Sir Mortimer and the corporate executives watching from High Pei Street, nor Ronan.
Even the representative from Michael’s Wings Pharmaceutical Company stared at the screen with a mix of confusion and delight. “Whose contingency plan was that? Neatly done! I’m certain we don’t have this virus in our group database, so it definitely won’t trace back to us… us…”
The representative’s words trailed off. He gaped at the screen. “God above, what is that? Those black buildings rising from underground at the orphanage?”
In that instant, through countless eyes and broadcast feeds, uncountable people bore witness as Carcosa’s reflection slowly ascended from beneath the orphanage into the human world.
Suddenly, an enormous scythe blade descended from the horizon.
It was so colossal that even the vast expanse of heaven and earth could only reveal its dark-brown razor edge—no sign of the handle in sight.
Death.
The Death God’s scythe.
The primal fear ingrained in humanity toward such concepts caused every witness to unconsciously hold their breath, eyes widening in awe at this divine spectacle.
Sir Mortimer had just risen to his feet when he collapsed back onto the sofa. Staring at the screen in disbelief yet unable to deny it, he murmured, “My God… it’s real… the Death God… there really is a Death God!”
