'All right, Cronin. You like interrupting my work, huh?'
'Then I'll return the favor.'
'Don't think I haven't noticed that Originium formation you set up in the volcano near Siesta… Did you really believe the Cape Group wouldn't notice those massive material orders?'
'Planning to use a volcanic eruption as your hidden trump card, threatening the safety of the entire city as leverage…'
'And you expect me to help you?'
'Half the locals in Siesta are employees of the Cape Group. If they all perish, who's going to compensate for that loss of manpower? You?'
'Tch… forget it. You were just another pawn in Herman's plan anyway.'
'No need to get worked up — I'm not that petty.'
'Mobius is already in position. The volcanic crisis has been resolved.'
'As for that young Liberi… I'll leave him be. Once he accepts the suit, it's only a matter of time before he becomes exactly what I want him to be.'
'It'll just take a little longer, and a bit more effort.'
'…'
'No, the more I think about it, the angrier I get.'
'Cronin… I'll give you hope with my own hands—'
'And then I'll destroy it myself.'
———
"Mobius, how did you even know a mutated Originium creature of this scale was hiding here?"
Muelsyse's tone was strained as she spoke, watching the green-haired scientist — gloved hands gently stroking the carapace of the massive beast known as Pompeii.
Rhine Lab's intelligence division hadn't received any report of such a creature existing.
"That's a secret~" Mobius replied airily.
She was, at that moment, "communicating" with the Originium insect.
'You stay here — not much food, harsh environment. Bad!'
'You come with me — lots of food, safe environment. Good!'
'You can't beat us.'
The will of the Black Snake was simple, direct, and brutally effective.
When dealing with a creature that barely qualified as sentient, there was no need for eloquent persuasion.
As for the obsidian he had purchased at a hefty price from the Cape Group?
Well, that expense was naturally covered by Rhine Lab.
After all, Rhine Lab — a powerhouse spanning multiple fields of scientific research — was never short on funds.
In Columbia, where "science is the first productive force," few organizations were as well-supported as Rhine Lab.
Money was never the issue.
With the right justification, securing approval from Central Management was easy — especially for the Philosophy Department, which was currently requesting funding under the theme "terranity and Nature."
———
"Apologies," Cape said smoothly, putting away his communicator as he returned to the room. "One of my business partners needed to discuss something urgent. Now, shall we continue?"
"…I'm sorry, Mr. Cape," Mephisto replied after a moment of hesitation. "But I think… I still want to keep fighting alongside everyone in Reunion."
When Cape entered, all he saw was the young Liberi looking embarrassed — carefully folding the tailored suit he had been given and setting it neatly on the table.
He had already changed back into his Reunion uniform.
"…"
So, the boy's shaken off my influence… troublesome.
"I really am grateful for the opportunity, Mr. Cape," Mephisto continued, lowering his gaze. "But I just don't understand why someone as important as you would take an interest in someone like me. Things like this… they don't happen in real life. It feels too good to be true."
He paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words — yet the doubt in his tone was unmistakable.
Granted, the opportunity seemed almost too precious to pass up, but it had come far too easily.
And while Cape's manner remained pleasant and composed, the questions he'd asked earlier had already planted a seed of unease in Mephisto's mind.
There was something in his tone—an implication that Mephisto couldn't quite decipher, but instinctively distrusted.
"Heh… perhaps I was a bit too eager," Cape admitted with a faint smile. "But this isn't some miracle falling from the sky, child. You simply haven't realized what you're capable of yet."
His gaze sharpened, a fervent glint burning in his eyes.
"The status of the Infected today isn't merely because of the contamination they cause upon death," he said, his voice steady, rising with conviction. "It's because their value—compared to the uninfected—is far too low."
"I know there are powerful casters among the Infected. Strong warriors. Brilliant minds."
"But they are the minority."
"The majority—ordinary Infected—suffer from the Oripathy itself: weakened bodies, fading vitality… and exclusion from education."
"Their lives are short, and even in death, they spread the very plague that curses them. From an economic standpoint, they're too flawed to serve as labor."
Then Cape leaned forward, his voice low, almost reverent.
"But your ability can change all of that… You could make it possible for the Infected to catch up to—no, to surpass—the uninfected."
"If your Originium Arts were applied on a large scale, even the weakest, most uneducated Infected could instantly gain strength beyond the reach of most uninfected."
"With that power, we could create—or destroy. We could do anything."
"When the Infected come to possess greater strength than the uninfected…"
"When they become the most valuable labor force in the world, sought after by every major power…"
"When their strength earns them the attention, the respect, of nations and corporations alike…"
"Then—" Cape spread his arms, his voice filled with near-messianic passion, "—that will be the day when the uninfected themselves begin to seek infection."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Cape's words rang through the air like a sermon, and everyone's expressions shifted.
Alina and Faust exchanged worried glances, both turning toward Mephisto with concern.
Neither of them knew what kind of "potential" Cape was talking about, and his speech—though grand—sounded suspiciously like something a cult leader or con artist might say.
Yet it was hard to believe a man like him, a magnate with a global empire, would need to resort to lies.
If Mephisto truly lacked what Cape claimed, why would he go to such lengths—hosting them, entertaining them, wasting his time?
Meanwhile, Ch'en had already readied herself for combat.
She didn't buy a single word of it.
Even if Mephisto did have a power that traded away life force for strength, there had to be a limit.
At his current level, he could barely take on a hundred people.
For the vast Infected population of Terra, that was less than a drop in the ocean.
Yet what frightened her wasn't the boy—
It was Cape.
Despite appearing frail, almost defenseless, every movement he made carried unsettling weight.
And now, with his arms spread wide, eyes alight with fanatical conviction, he looked like a man embracing the future he alone could see.
His confidence was infectious—so much so that for a brief, terrible moment, Ch'en almost believed him.
Believed that if Mephisto only agreed, such a future might actually come to pass.
But that future was one to be feared.
A world where Oripathy—a curse that slowly devoured its victims—was rebranded as a blessing…
A world where people sought infection willingly…
That would be a nightmare.
———
"Mr. Cape," Alina said firmly, stepping forward to shield the trembling Mephisto behind her.
Her voice was calm but resolute. "I don't know why you believe he has that kind of power…"
"But tell me—" her amber eyes locked onto Cape's, unwavering, "—as someone who isn't Infected yourself… what is it that you truly think?"