As Chekkat's bloodshot eyes stayed locked on the surveillance feed, the scene outside reached its climax—Sol and Anby had finally stopped running.

They were standing in a dead-end building, one with no exit—deliberately chosen as the battleground against the Public Security Bureau. Beneath this very structure lay the Black Panther Syndicate's hidden base.

By pretending to be disoriented and unfamiliar with the area, they avoided raising suspicion.

"F*ck!" Chekkat slammed his desk in rage, his voice shaking with fury. "Out of all the buildings in this district, they had to pick this one?! What kind of cursed luck is this!?"

He and those two maniacs were now in the same building. If he used bombs here, it'd mean mutual destruction.

"What do we do, boss?! The Public Security dogs are almost here!"

"Those two freaks are too brutal! We've already lost a bunch of brothers! Screw this!"

"This is bullsh*t! We don't even know who they are, and now we're caught in this mess! Damn it!"

Over ninety armed men were getting restless. The noise alone made Chekkat's eyelids twitch.

He knew these men well—all desperadoes. When things went smoothly, they howled like wolves; when the tide turned, their courage evaporated. Not that they were weak, just stupidly self-serving—the kind who'd rather die last than fight first.

Meanwhile, Jane watched Sol and Anby's performance on the monitors with hidden amusement, though her face remained grave. "Boss, we should rally the brothers and try a sneak attack while they're distracted."

Chekkat's rage eased slightly—at least someone was keeping a clear head.

"Quit panicking!" he barked, standing tall. "This is our turf! Just two intruders, what's there to fear? Arm up, we'll wipe them out and move our business elsewhere if we have to. Full combat readiness!"

"Yes, boss!"

His subordinates' morale snapped back instantly.

Right—they had the numbers, the firepower, and home-field advantage. Even in the worst case, they'd just lose this base and rebuild later.

Following the order, the syndicate members swapped their regular weapons for heavy-duty arms straight from the warehouse.

Click-clack!

Safety catches were flipped off, rounds chambered, and each man strapped on ten MK3A5 military grenades.

Nine elite enforcers climbed into three types of mechs—Modified Guardian MK II, Modified Guardian MK III, and Modified Enraged Sweeper.

The towering mechs gleamed with matte-black plating, radiating a chilling aura of mechanical death.

Jane's long tail flicked nervously as she eyed the firepower arrayed before her.

The Enraged Sweeper models were just repurposed industrial suits, but the Guardian series? Those were military-grade units—the kind usually deployed in large-scale Hollow operations. Even second-hand and refitted, they packed monstrous power.

With nearly a hundred men fully armed, their combined firepower could dominate an entire Hollow zone.

"Don't look so surprised, Jane Du." Chekkat grinned smugly. "Stick with me, and I'll get you one of these beauties someday!"

"Apologies, boss—I was just… impressed."

Jane lowered her gaze, feigning embarrassment.

But inwardly, she couldn't help worrying—this much firepower… could even Sol handle it?

Sure, his dossier listed him as "extraordinarily capable," and she'd seen that terrifying ice ability firsthand.

Still—flesh and blood is fragile. Even the strongest Esper can't outlast sustained military fire.

"Let's see how many lives those fools have to spare!" Chekkat snarled, murderous intent blazing.

Those two had dragged the Public Security Bureau straight into his core base. One way or another, this place was compromised—but he'd make sure they paid in blood for it.

He loaded the surveillance feed into his tablet, coordinating the counterattack. With his intimate knowledge of the terrain, his men began encircling Sol, Anby, and the incoming Bureau units.

…

At that moment, Sol and Anby crouched behind two massive support pillars.

Qingyi and Seth had already led their squads to encircle the area, while Zhu Yuan's team moved in from the opposite side.

Anby looked alert, while Sol appeared utterly calm, idly spinning a short, silver, hollow rod between his fingers.

"Don't even think about running, villains!" Seth roared, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword and shield.

It was his first time dealing with such ferocious fugitives—not only had they outmaneuvered them repeatedly, they'd blown up a dozen officers.

The images of his bloodied comrades flashed before his eyes. His grief had burned away into sheer, righteous fury.

"Face death proudly and sing your last song! The blood of justice writes the poem of righteousness! We exorcise evil without regret—may our fallen be honored!"

Qingyi pointed her staff toward Sol, her voice icy and resolute. "Your time has come!"

"That's right—your time has come!"

Zhu Yuan, less skilled with words, could only awkwardly echo her.

Between Seth's raw emotion, Qingyi's stoic performance, and Zhu Yuan's honest confusion—the scene looked almost theatrical.

The Public Security officers leveled their rifles, eyes blazing. "Drop your weapons and surrender! The Tribunal may yet grant you a quick death!"

Their words were cold, but their fingers itched on the triggers—the moment either fugitive peeked out, they'd open fire without hesitation.

"So," Sol drawled, spinning the silver rod again, "you think you've got me cornered?"

Anby, staying behind her pillar, played along perfectly: "Leave now, and no one has to get hurt! You're not obligated to face an unwinnable fight!"

"Silence, criminal!" Seth roared, every hair standing on end. "Surrounded and still arrogant—your time is over!"

"Hmph, such empty bravado." Sol's voice carried cold disdain. "You think you can kill me? I just wanted to run a small business—not pick fights with the Bureau. Leave now, before my patience ends."

"Criminal scum!" Qingyi snapped, her youthful face set in a warrior's scowl. "Your 'small business' is trafficking in murder machines! Since you refuse to repent—pay in blood!"

"That's right, pay in blood!"

Zhu Yuan struck her best "furious officer" pose—though her acting couldn't quite match Qingyi's intensity. Thankfully, the streaks of blood on her face helped sell the look.

"The ones who refuse to repent… are you!" Sol's laughter filled the ruins, his aura exploding outward. "With this weapon in my hand, no one in New Eridu can kill me! No one even dares!"

…

"Holy sh*t, he's insane!"

Chekkat stared at the tablet, trembling with awe.

Even he—a hardened warlord—had to admit: that man radiated pure dominance.

The Black Panther members were equally stunned. "Who is this guy?!"

They'd never seen anyone like him—someone who could stand surrounded by elite Bureau officers and declare himself unkillable.

Compared to that, their usual bluster—even Chekkat's—sounded like playground talk.

Was he one of the hidden kings of the New Eridu underworld? One of those terrifying figures whispered about in rumor?

"Should we move in?" Jane asked quietly.

She had to admit—Sol's performance as a criminal kingpin was perfect.

The arrogance, the menace, the effortless confidence—it was like watching a true underworld emperor at work.

"Wait," Chekkat said, eyes narrowing. "Let's see what kind of 'weapon' he's talking about."

If a man could sound that confident surrounded by the Bureau, his trump card had to be extraordinary.

And so far, Sol carried no heavy arms—only that ornate silver short rod gleaming faintly in his hand…