The elevator ride back to the surface felt longer than the descent. As the doors were swung open in the main lobby, the artificial violet glow of the vault was replaced by the harsh, flickering industrial lights of the building above. Jason was standing right there, his hand hovering near his holster, his face etched with a mixture of anxiety and duty.

"Boss! You're back. Is everything... done?" Jason asked the soldier, stepping forward to meet him.

Ethan stepped out of the lift, his expression unreadable. The weight of Crul's presence in his mind was a cold, sharp contrast to the humid air of the construction site. He looked back at the elevator doors for a brief second.

"Everything is exactly where it needs to be," Ethan said the leader. "Seal the shaft. Detonate the charges."

Jason froze, his eyes widening in confusion. "But sir... we haven't even moved the hardware in yet. The server racks, the cooling units, the specialized wiring we spent weeks sourcing—it's all still sitting in the transport trucks. If we collapse the tunnel now, we won't be able to install anything."

Ethan turned to him, his gaze so cold it made Jason take a half-step back. "What needed to be there is already there. I told you not to ask, Jason. I expect that from now on, this location ceases to exist in your memory. No one—not the Union, not our rivals, not even the rest of Royal—can ever find this place. If they do, the consequences will be too terrible to even imagine."

Jason swallowed hard, seeing a look in Ethan's eyes that he had never seen before—a total, absolute certainty that bordered on the divine.

"I understand, boss. I'll handle it immediately," Jason said. He pulled out his radio and switched to a high-priority encrypted channel. "All units, this is Falcon Lead. Operation Total Lockdown is in effect. Evacuate the facility immediately. All construction crews, security details, and transport drivers are to be clear of the blast radius in five minutes. This is not a drill. Move!"

Ethan walked toward the armored SUV as the building began to clear. Men in hard hats and tactical gear scrambled out of the side exits, confused but moving with the discipline Ethan had paid for. Within minutes, the sprawling complex was a ghost town.

Jason stood by a reinforced pillar, a remote detonator in his hand. He looked at Ethan one last time, receiving a sharp nod of confirmation. I flipped the safety cover and pressed the trigger.

A muffled, deep-earth rumble shook the soles of Ethan's boots. It wasn't a violent explosion that shattered windows; it was a calculated implosion. Five hundred meters below, the vertical access shaft collapsed in on itself, tons of rock and reinforced concrete sealing the "Queen Ant" into her lightless, impenetrable tomb.

"The tunnel is gone, boss. The lift is buried under three hundred tons of debris," Jason said, his voice trembling slightly.

"Good," Ethan said, looking up at the six combat helicopters still circling above.

The dust from the controlled implosion was still settling as Ethan turned toward the heavy escort. "Jason, take the men back to the main base. I want to move alone from here. This convoy is too flashy; it draws eyes from miles away."

"Boss, with all due respect, that is out of the question," said Jason, stepping into his path. "Olympus might be retreating, but they aren't gone. You are the most valuable target in this city. We need to maintain a perimeter at all times."

"It's an order, Jason," Ethan said the leader.

Jason bit his lip, his expression strained but stubborn. "Boss, please. At least take an armored SUV and a couple of guards. That is what's normal for people with your kind of money. If you go out completely alone, it actually looks more suspicious to the Union scouts."

Ethan looked at Jason's firm gaze and sighed. He understood that while he valued his independence, it was sometimes useful to have subordinates nearby to handle the mundane tasks.

"Fine. I'll take one of the boys, but that's it," Ethan said the young man.

"Thank you, sir," said Jason, looking visibly relieved. He turned and whistled, signaling to a young man standing by the lead vehicle.

The guard looked barely twenty, roughly Ethan's own age, but his killing aura was thick—a heavy, suffocating pressure that clung to him like a second skin. With Ethan's enhanced senses, it was easy to detect that this boy had ended lives—likely more than a hundred. He moved with the silent, predatory grace of a professional assassin.

"This is Falcon 20. He is one of our best," said Jason.

"Fine. I'll take him," Ethan said the leader. He looked at the massive, bulky armored SUVs and grimaced. "But I hate these clunky trucks. They're like driving tanks through a mall. Falcon 20, take me to a dealership. I want to buy a proper car."

Jason's eyes widened. "But sir, a normal luxury car won't hold up against anything. It would be shredded the moment an ambush starts."

"Alright, alright, I give up," Ethan said the young man, waving a hand dismissively as he remembered he wasn't just a regular citizen anymore. He paused, a thought striking him as he looked toward the city skyline.

"Actually, change of plans. Take me to Thompson's office. I want to have a word with him," Ethan said.

Falcon 20 nodded without a word, his movements efficient and sharp. He opened the door for Ethan, and soon they were gliding away from the dust-filled construction site. Instead of heading toward the city's business district, the driver navigated the armored vehicle toward the outskirts, eventually pulling up to the gates of a sprawling, heavily guarded private mansion.

Ethan looked out the window at the high stone walls and the security cameras tracking their every move. "Why are we here? I thought we were going to the capitol or Thompson's office. I expected him to be at work," Ethan said the leader.

"Congressman Thompson stepped down from his official post recently to focus entirely on preparing for the upcoming elections," said Falcon 20. His voice was low and raspy, matching the dark aura he carried. "He's running a much larger campaign now. This mansion is his current base of operations."

Ethan stared at the massive iron gates as they began to swing open. Thompson was no longer just a legal puppet or a mid-level politician; he was aiming for the top of the food chain.

"I see. He's moving faster than I thought," Ethan said the young man.

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