The internal purge within the Apex Predators never required Ethan's direct involvement. Voss handled it personally, and with chilling efficiency, rooting out the last remnants loyal to the third and fourth leaders. Those who had chosen the wrong side were given a simple option: leave, or stay and face the consequences.

Not a single man chose to remain. Only a complete idiot would linger after a failed betrayal, especially when doing so meant painting a clear target on his own back.

As roughly four hundred men gathered their gear and prepared to depart, Voss raised his voice, cutting through the low murmur of movement. "You can leave this camp," he said evenly. "But remember this. You're still Apex Predators when you're inside Ethereal. In there, we're still brothers."

The words carried across the camp, clear and unmistakable. The departing men slowed, then stopped, many of them turning back. For a brief moment, eyes reddened and jaws tightened as emotions surfaced that none of them had planned to show.

"Boss!" the four hundred voices answered in unison, rough and unpolished, heavy with feeling.

"Enough of the sentimental crap," Voss said with a coarse laugh, waving them off. "Take care of yourselves."

That was all. No speeches, no promises, no attempts to stop them. Just a blunt farewell.

Watching from the side, Ethan nearly smirked. He knew what had really happened, and anyone with sharp senses would have felt it too. Voss had threaded every word with a faint pulse of Soul Power, subtle and controlled, using its empathic resonance to magnify loyalty and shared history. It was no wonder the Apex Predators possessed such terrifying cohesion. A Soul-Wielder quietly reinforcing morale and bonds over the years was an advantage few groups could ever match.

It also explained their reputation. Ethan had heard the stories long before today. Apex Predators squads either completed their missions and returned, or they completed them and died to the last man. They had no record of failure because failure simply meant mutual destruction. Their contracts leaned heavily toward demolition and annihilation. Rescue or extraction jobs were rare exceptions.

Ethan and the others waited without interfering while Voss wrapped up his affairs. By then, Victor, Amber, and Rainie had rejoined him, while Blackfin's men stood at attention nearby, confused but disciplined, awaiting orders they had yet to receive.

When things finally settled, Ethan stepped forward. "Alright," he said, looking between Blackfin and Voss, who now regarded him with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Which one of you is coming with me to the black market?"

Neither hesitated. Both made it very clear they were coming.

"Fine. Then both of you," Ethan replied. "Get ready. What I'm trading for isn't cheap, and extra security won't hurt." He paused briefly, a thought forming as he considered the situation. If he was going to build a power base, he might as well make it obvious. This lawless stretch of badlands was as good a place as any to plant a flag.

Five hours later, the heart of the badlands bore witness to something it had never seen before.

A colossal convoy thundered through the dusty passes. More than two hundred up-armored Humvees formed the vanguard and flanks, while over a hundred and ten heavy military transport trucks followed behind them. Above, thirteen gunship helicopters cut through the sky, their rhythmic thwap-thwap-thwap reverberating across the barren terrain as they provided constant overwatch.

Ethan sat in the lead Humvee. Earlier, when Blackfin and Voss had asked how many men to bring, he had simply shrugged. "The more the merrier. You figure it out."

This was what they had figured out.

The entirety of Blackfin's forces had been mobilized, and Voss had brought four thousand five hundred of his most dependable men. Every vehicle was packed with armed personnel and enough ammunition to ignite a small war if things went sideways.

Ethan extended his Soul Sense, letting it sweep over the convoy. After a moment, he closed his eyes, then looked at the two men seated across from him, his expression perfectly flat. "Are we going to trade," he asked calmly, "or are we going to raid the black market?"

Blackfin and Voss exchanged a grin.

"Big Boss, you're underestimating the black market," Voss said. "This little parade of ours probably wouldn't even qualify as an appetizer for some of the real players there. But we figured we understood what you were doing. You're staking a claim. So why not show some teeth right away? Better yet, wave a red flag and let anyone with a problem come to us. We deal with them one at a time. Much more efficient."

The logic was unsettlingly solid, and their sudden camaraderie was hard to miss. Once bitter enemies, they now meshed with an almost suspicious ease. Ethan had the distinct feeling these two together were going to cause no end of trouble.

He had pictured bringing maybe a hundred men. Instead, he had a small army at his back as the massive motorcade followed the same route his group had taken into the region earlier.

During the journey, Amber contacted her black market intermediary to reschedule the missed meeting. The man on the other end sounded immediately irritated, his arrogance sharpening with every sentence. Ethan only half listened until one particular line caught his attention.

"…Look, if you really want to meet the boss today, it's not impossible. I'm staying at the Black Clover hotel, Room 408. Why don't you come up alone, Ms. Zane? We can… discuss the terms."

The man's voice dipped into something oily and suggestive, followed by a low chuckle that left no room for misunderstanding.

Amber's expression darkened.

Ethan, who had been resting with his eyes closed, slowly opened them. A cold, humorless smile curved his lips as he leaned toward the phone in Amber's hand.

"Don't trouble yourself," he said calmly, his tone utterly flat. "It's easier if we bring you to us."

The casual finality of the words was more insulting than any shouted threat.

Before the man on the other end could respond, Ethan gave Victor a slight nod.

The response was immediate. Click, clack, whirr. Plates unfolded and locked into place as Victor's Combat Mech deployed in a smooth, practiced sequence, encasing him in seconds. Without slowing, he kicked open the Humvee door and leaped from the moving vehicle.

He hit the ground in a roll, sprang into a sprint, then ignited his thrusters. With a thunderous roar, he shot into the sky, becoming a rapidly shrinking metallic speck against the clouds.

In the Humvee ahead, Blackfin and Voss caught the flash of motion. Voss pressed his face to the window, watching Victor disappear.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "That's cool as hell. Think we can get one of those?"

Blackfin, ever pragmatic, answered after a moment. "Probably. But we'd have to earn it."

Back on the call, the sleazy intermediary finally recovered from the interruption. After several seconds of stunned silence, his voice returned, now thick with fury. "Ms. Zane, do you even want this deal? Who the hell was that? Some backwater nobody you picked up? He just signed his own death warrant. He'll never leave the badlands alive."

Amber's only response was a soft, mocking chuckle.

Then the line went dead.

Enraged, the man, clad only in a bathrobe, hurled his satellite phone across the hotel room, smashing a lamp as it struck the wall. He rose from the bed, swearing viciously, his earlier lecherous fantasies replaced by raw, murderous intent.

The window behind him detonated inward with a deafening crash, not from an explosion, but from a human-shaped battering ram.

He spun around, a scream dying in his throat.

A face of polished, expressionless steel hovered inches from his own.

Before he could even stagger back, an armored fist shot forward, not to strike, but to seize him by the front of his robe. In one smooth motion, Victor lifted him off the floor, tucked him under one armored arm like an oversized parcel, and turned back toward the gaping hole in the wall.

Then he jumped.

The sonic boom echoed through the block as Victor broke the sound barrier.

The man trapped under his arm turned purple almost instantly, his hair and eyebrows frosting over as brutal acceleration and thin, freezing air assaulted his body.

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