After sending 2B out, Loren strolled down the corridor toward the office door as if out for a casual walk.
What he didn't expect was that the office door had been reinforced with a thick steel barrier—far sturdier than it first appeared.
Rather than strike the barrier head-on, Loren sidestepped to the adjacent wall.
Without hesitation, he clenched his fist and drove it hard into the bricks.
Thanks to the perfected enhancement serum coursing through his veins, Loren could unleash a force of roughly five tons. And now, amplified by the bat suit, that power had surged past eight tons—an almost monstrous level of strength.
For someone like him, blowing through a brick wall should've been effortless.
Yet the moment his fist connected, the wall didn't just crack—it exploded outward in a cloud of dust and debris.
Behind it gleamed a cold, seamless steel wall. Clearly, Pierce's entire room had been specially fortified.
Loren's brow furrowed slightly—then relaxed into a playful smirk.
"If you're so terrified of dying," he called out, voice laced with irony, "why go out of your way to stir up trouble and invite death? You really asked for this!"
"But did you honestly think a slab of scrap metal could stop me? You're giving yourself too much credit."
Still grinning, Loren stepped back and raised his right hand, pointing it squarely at the steel barrier.
A crimson laser lanced out with devastating force.
In seconds, it carved a long gash through the ten-centimeter-thick steel. Moments later, the beam punched clean through—and sliced the office desk in half.
Inside, Pierce flinched violently, eyes wide with terror.
"What the hell kind of monster is out there?!" he hissed.
Frantically dodging the searing red beam, he yanked a pistol from his desk drawer and fired wildly at the widening hole.
But his efforts were as futile as a mantis trying to halt a charging chariot.
Within moments, a gap large enough for an adult to pass through opened before him.
Loren, clad in his bat suit, strode in leisurely—completely unfazed by the hail of bullets.
At the sight of him, Pierce went pale. His legs trembled uncontrollably.
In just a few seconds, he'd emptied an entire magazine.
Yet every round that struck Loren sparked harmlessly off his armored frame, leaving not a scratch.
Undeterred, Pierce fumbled with shaking hands to reload.
But before he could raise the pistol again, Loren closed the distance in a blur.
A black mechanical hand clamped down on Pierce's wrist—then crushed it with a sickening crack. Bones collapsed inward; the limb went limp.
"Ahhhhh!!!"
Pierce's shriek echoed through the room as the pistol clattered to the floor.
Loren caught it midair and twirled it idly in his fingers.
"I thought you were made of steel," he said, voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Turns out you're just flesh and fear. So why go looking for death?"
Before Pierce could respond, Loren jammed the barrel of the pistol into his mouth—and drove a brutal punch into his gut.
The powerful impact immediately made Pierce's body arch like a shrimp. His stomach churned, and he nearly vomited—but he held it back. A gun was stuffed in his mouth, and he had no idea whether spitting it out would get him shot.
"No, no… don't kill me!" he pleaded. "I don't even know who you are! There must be some misunderstanding between us. If I've offended you in any way, I'll apologize. There's no need for violence. Besides, if you kill me, you won't get away with it—you know who I am."
Carefully, Pierce nudged the gun from his mouth and hesitantly looked at Loren.
He was trying to talk Loren down—appealing to both reason and emotion, hoping to dissuade him from pulling the trigger.
Loren responded with a playful smile.
"When you say 'who you are,' do you mean the Minister of the World Security Council… or the leader of Hydra?"
"!!!!"
"Who the hell are you?!" Pierce gasped.
Hearing his secret identity exposed, Pierce froze in shock, eyes wide as he stared at the masked figure before him—as if he could somehow see through the disguise. But Loren wore a bat-like mask, revealing nothing.
"You're supposed to be so clever," Loren said, "yet you can't even guess who I am? I suppose I overestimated you."
He reached up and pulled off the mask.
Suddenly, a strikingly handsome face was revealed.
"M-Master Lor… Master Loren?!"
Pierce could barely believe his eyes. Of all the faces that had flashed through his mind just moments ago, Loren's was the one he'd never considered.
According to every intelligence report, Loren was nothing more than a spoiled playboy—a useless piece of rotten wood, utterly incapable of anything serious.
But the man standing before him defied all that. This Loren wasn't just competent—he was terrifyingly powerful, cold, and ruthless.
And, most shockingly of all, he wore a sleek, high-tech mechanical armor that made even Iron Man's suit look outdated.
If Pierce hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he'd have sworn it was impossible—even under torture.
"Young Master?" Loren sneered. "Do you still dare look me in the eye, eldest Young Master of the Morgan family?"
"Master Loren, this is all a misunderstanding! I don't even know what you're talking about—what's Hydra?"
"Hah. It doesn't matter. You can keep playing dumb in hell." Loren's voice turned icy. "And don't bother stalling. You're going to die anyway."
He raised the gun.
But at that exact moment, an arrow shot into the cave—aimed straight at Loren's face.
The angle was treacherous; an ordinary person would've been struck instantly.
Not Loren. With a casual flick of his hand, he deflected the arrow.
Boom!
The arrowhead detonated on impact—clearly no ordinary projectile.
"Looks like your backup's here," Loren said with a dark chuckle. "Too bad they won't save you."
He turned toward the cave entrance, smirked, and pulled the trigger.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber—and Pierce's head exploded. He dropped to the ground, dead.