Southern Tanzania. The tropical savanna stretched endlessly, rolling gently under the blazing sun. Wildlife roamed freely across the land.

Birdsong filled the sky, one call overlapping another. High above, eagles circled with sharp eyes scanning the ground in search of prey.

The morning dew had long since evaporated under the sun, and the temperature steadily climbed.

Zebras and giraffes foraged for their breakfast on the open plain, while lions lingered in the distance, watching the grazing herds. But it wasn't yet time for the hunt.

After all, the best way to preserve food is to leave it alive.

A soft breeze stirred, making flowers and leaves sway.

The savanna was another of those natural landscapes soon to be forgotten in the cyberpunk world. Smaller than the vast, surging ocean; lacking the delicate sands and lapping tranquility of a coastal shore.

Yet here, wildlife was abundant. Herds of animals ran freely through the uninhabited wilderness, sky and earth painting one harmonious scene.

[V: So dry here. But all these weird-shaped things are kinda interesting.]

The grassland too had been recorded into a braindance.

Compared to the previous two braindances, this one stood out for its uniqueness: its beauty came largely from the animals that lived upon it.

Animals kept their distance yet coexisted on the same land—even if some might only have a few hours left to live.

In the cyberpunk world, the human population had sharply declined, and animal numbers had fallen even more drastically under widespread environmental destruction. Perhaps somewhere in Africa such grasslands still existed, but almost no one would buy a braindance of it.

Still, the dynamic ecosystem held V's attention. Some people could stare at animals all day, and V now found himself in that same state.

[Leo: Wild animals… most are extinct now. See that? A rhino.]

[V: Yeah? What about it?]

[Leo: Rich folk used to decorate their implants with their horns as a status symbol. That's why there are basically no wild rhinos left anymore.]

Fourth-generation cyberware even included that kind of ornamentation: rare natural decorations with no purpose other than costliness.

[V: Tch. Rich people, huh? Always gotta flaunt it.]

This braindance allowed far more freedom: V could wander the savanna at will, watching rhinos, lions, lizards, cats—even fly up into the sky to see the birds.

Because this wasn't filmed by a human. It was filmed by drones.

As the drone scattered a flock of birds, the beasts below froze mid-motion, gazes turning warily to the distance.

[TN: If anyone is confused, this is real-time V is controlling a bot, but she doesn't know that; it's similar to how the Leo workshop works using workers from both worlds controlling bots to do work.]

Steel vehicles were approaching.

Atlas Group's electric convoy rolled across the grassland. Leo, connected remotely, directed operations on-site while editing the braindance feed.

Alongside Atlas vehicles were enforcement units of the African Union—Tanzanian government troops and Wakandan guards.

"So we're heading to… a nuclear material mine?"

Captain Carter admired the savanna while addressing the robotic figure beside her.

Technically, it was an exoskeleton—parts of engineering machinery cobbled into a humanoid shell, remotely operated. It wasn't as agile as a real person, but it represented an upgrade in human–machine coordination.

"Yes," came the reply. "But nuclear tech can now be used for civilians. You could say: nuclear power for electricity."

"That's… hard to describe."

Carter had never witnessed an atomic explosion. She only knew of nuclear energy through tales told by her friend Howard Stark.

"Humanity has mastered the power to destroy itself—yet also found the key to infinite energy."

Those were Howard's words.

Suddenly, she asked: "So, do we now have infinite energy? But I've heard there's an 'energy crisis'?"

Frank chuckled—the very man who had first coined that phrase.

"What's so funny?" Carter frowned. "Howard said that if we can harness nuclear energy for civilians, we'd never run out of power. We could develop it together—why fight over it?"

"If something is infinite, you can't sell it at a high price," Frank shrugged. "I may not be educated, but even I get that much.

If the world finds infinite energy, how would traditional energy companies survive?"

"You mean Roxxon Energy would sabotage it?"

"Isn't that exactly what's happening now?"

While they spoke, Leo received a message from Uranium-10 Company: they had rejected Atlas Group's offer of $180 million.

As expected.

From the back seat, Leo sighed. "Uranium-10 refused the bid."

Atlas's offer already far exceeded the Mkuju River deposit's estimated worth.

That was no small sum. Offering more would be an obvious sham—only monopolists ignored costs like that.

Carter raised a brow.

"So… what now? We just take it by force? Forgive me, but while their actions may be shady, isn't it fair for the highest bidder to win?"

"If they break the law, then it's a problem," Leo answered.

[Moss: Mr. Lee, Mkuju River is just ahead. But it still legally belongs to Uranium-10. To avoid issues, we hope you'll take a softer approach in your inspection.]

[Leo: Alright. Everyone, stop here.]

Moss, Tanzania's Minister of Mines, was serving as guide.

The Mkuju River uranium deposit lay near a wildlife reserve.

Leo had considered pressuring the Tanzanian government to revoke Uranium-10's rights for underproduction—but that would have been little better than robbery.

Contracts required cooperation and mutual understanding, even in disputes.

After all, low uranium prices were a market factor. Playing "friendly" could still be justified.

Atlas's implants gave Africa the means to build industrial systems quickly, so they naturally leaned toward Atlas. But such strong-arm tactics could leave hidden scars.

And now things looked even stranger.

Drone footage revealed no proper roads or vehicle tracks leading to the mine.

Suspicious. Mining uranium—or any mineral—created enormous waste: tailings, excavated rock, wastewater. But unlike other ores, radioactive waste was itself dangerous nuclear pollution.

Leo knew mining procedures by heart. He had checked all the available data on this site beforehand.

Something wasn't right.

The Mkuju River deposit's predicted reserves were around 50,000 tons. Yet Uranium-10's operations left far too little trace.

No heavy equipment, no large labor movements, no waste shipments. Nothing matched.

The convoy halted under Leo's orders, and drones crept closer to the mine.

But as soon as the drone neared the camp, its feed glitched unnaturally.

Most would dismiss it as signal interference. Leo, however, knew radiation could disrupt communications.

And soon, he saw the truth.

Several African workers emerged from the mine in nothing but thin overalls, dragging carts of crushed ore.

[Leo: No offense, Mr. Moss… but do you think this looks normal?]

When the footage hit Moss's eyes, his expression darkened instantly.

Such a massive uranium mine—and the workers laughed and chatted cheerfully as though nothing was wrong.

But radiation didn't care about happiness.

The workers might be ignorant, but Moss, educated abroad, knew the deadly risk.

[Moss: We're shutting this down! Shut down these Americans at once!]