Chapter 487
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Chapter 487: Giving Up and Determination
Old Mike wearily returned to his temporary “home.”
This was the Ring City, standing 111 layers high. His so-called “home” was nothing more than a safe house stocked with food, medicine, and weapons. A rarity in the modern world, it even had a physical door lock instead of relying on the internet.
Scattered across levels 50 to 150 of the Ring City, Old Mike had carefully prepared safe houses—enough to hide in for months if needed. Setting up these havens had cost him a fortune, but for a modern assassin, such preparation could mean the difference between life and death.
The old man collapsed into a chair, his weariness written across his face. The man who had earlier interrogated his enemies with cruel precision now seemed lost in thought, as though the weight of his actions bore down on him.
“Doggie poo. It’s all doggie poo!”
A sudden burst of anger overtook him. Old Mike began throwing whatever he could grab, his fury spilling out in sharp bursts of frustration.
He had resolved to eliminate anyone who posed a threat to his granddaughter. Yet, digging deeper into the web of intrigue, he found Siskin, the underground organization, was merely a puppet.
The true puppeteer? The Rock Morgan group.
Jenny’s voice echoed in his mind, calm and sardonic:
“Half of the big conspiracies in this city are tied to Rock Morgan. The other half? To his adversaries. That’s just how it works here. Hehe.”
Old Mike muttered under his breath and closed his eyes.
Even with the mighty Babel Tower as an ally, going against Rock Morgan was no easy task.
He clenched his fists.
“This time, it’s different. Now it involves Rainbows. The stakes are far higher.”
Gods.
To mortals, they were beings of a wholly different nature. The transcendents prided themselves on their superiority, claiming to be above humanity. But in the eyes of the divine, even transcendents were mere mortals.
In truth, there were only two levels of existence in the world: mortals and gods.
The Rock Morgan group, despite its centuries of history, was just another player in the endless cycles of power. Forces came and went, but above it all, the Rainbows remained unchanged, their influence untouchable by mortal struggles.
Only one deity had ever fallen—the Heart of Radiance. This divine being had saved the world from the grasp of the Outer Gods, sacrificing itself in the process. But gods only fell to other gods, never to mortals.
The Crimson Sovereign.
This god of war ascended to divinity, embodying the very concept of conflict.
She never displayed emotion, her face a mask of calm detachment. But wherever she went, a crimson tide would rise, drowning everything in its path.
History recorded only one instance of her wrath. She had unleashed a wave of destruction so immense that the Savior of Dark Light and the Heart of Radiance had to intervene to save the world. Without their efforts, Noah would have been left in ruins, consumed by madness and war.
For mortals, even apocalyptic battles might devastate a city. But the wrath of gods could annihilate worlds.
Old Mike sighed deeply. He knew he could only do so much. The challenges ahead were far beyond his reach.
“I’m too old for this,” he murmured, a bitter smile crossing his lips.
Deep down, he had already given up. His irritability masked his vulnerability—the creeping realization that he was no longer the man he once was.
“The Final Gun. Are you there?”
A voice echoed in his mind, calm and mechanical: “Cybertyrant.”
Old Mike’s eyes snapped open. Of course, Cybertyrant had access to his neural implant. She could communicate with him anytime—and take control, if she wished.
“I’m here,” he replied. “What’s the matter?”
“I know everything,” Cybertyrant’s voice continued, neutral and detached.
She didn’t need to express anger or sorrow. Her words alone carried a weight that chilled Old Mike to the bone.
“I believe it’s time Rock Morgan pays the price.”
Amy sat in a sleek, futuristic office inside the Giant Hive.
Her limbless body rested in a specialized pod, tubes connecting to the back of her neck. These chambers allowed her to maximize her computational capacity, seamlessly managing both the Omnics and the city itself.
When Maryse had revealed the truth, Amy had finally understood.
Her weakness, her failing body—it had all been the result of experiments conducted by Rock Morgan. The “medical research” mentioned in the contract had been a farce.
For over a decade, Rock Morgan had secretly distributed experimental drugs, turning the entire Ring City into a playground for their unethical trials. People mutated, went mad, or simply died. The city had become a sprawling graveyard of broken lives.
Yet, not a trace of these horrors existed in Rock Morgan’s records.
Why?
Amy could only arrive at one conclusion: Rock Morgan was merely a proxy.
The true force behind it all?
A divine will. A deep red determination.
For the sake of the gods.