Date: Unspecified Ti: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Yellow Plains, Freedom Fighter's headquarters. "You two better start talking before I make you talk," Henricks warned, his sharp gaze locked onto the fake Baylor and his robed companion. He did not have the ti for this. His patience was already running thin, and their lack of reaction—even after being exposed—only made him more angry. The imposter Baylor turned to the robed figure beside him, silently seeking guidance. A small nod was all it took. With a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, "Well, I'll admit, it bruises my pride that I got caught the mont I opened my mouth in front of you. But I can live with it—knowing it wasn't a flaw in my ability, but rather that you just know your disciple too well—"
"Cut the crap." Henricks snapped, his tone curt and no-nonsense. "I don't have ti for this. Start by telling who you are."
The Freedom Fighters were already in dire straits, and every second wasted on theatrics was another second lost. He wasn't in the mood for gas, especially from the trapped imposter.
The fake Baylor shook his head, seemingly unfazed by the interruption, before responding, "It doesn't matter who we are—what matters is what we can do for you."
Jax, who had been barely holding onto his patience, suddenly shot up from his seat. His voice thundered through the room, "Enough of this bullshit! Where the hell are Ned and the real Baylor?"
His fists clenched, his face flushed with anger and worry. He couldn't understand why Henricks was even entertaining this conversation instead of ordering them to be restrained and interrogated. Every second wasted was a second his friends could be suffering.
"Jax!" Henricks barked, rubbing his temples in frustration.
He didn't bla Jax for reacting this way, but he couldn't explain himself either. If Wyatt hadn't ntally contacted him, urging him to figure out the imposters' true intentions, he wouldn't have wasted even a second on this nonsense.
Jax exhaled sharply, visibly biting back the words he wanted to hurl. But he made his disappointnt clear—slamming his boot against the stone table with a loud thud before dropping back into his seat, arms crossed, jaw clenched. The tension in the room was suffocating. Now, all eyes were on the imposter and his companion. They felt there was a reason Henricks wanted them to start talking, like maybe he seeking other options to their problem than the Southern Princess but would they finally start talking and was Henricks willing to look past them imprisoning his best friend and disciple? "The tensions are running high, so I'll skip the small talk and get straight to the point," the fake Baylor said, his tone calm yet deliberate. He paused, briefly glancing at Wyatt, displeased with how the young man was sizing him and his master up. Still, he let it slide—for now.
Then, turning back to the room, he revealed, "We can provide you with the missing piece to complete your Empty Space Project."
The mont those words left his lips, Luna and Henricks' eyes widened in shock. The Empty Space Project. Their secret contingency plan—the last resort in case the Southern Princess failed to uphold her end of the deal. Only a handful of people knew they were still working on it. The rest of the Freedom Fighters, including most of the departnt heads, had been led to believe the project had been shut down due to budgetary constraints.
Henricks frowned, folding his arms. "The Empty Space Project... What about it?" His tone was cautious, waiting for the fake Baylor to explain himself.
But instead of answering imdiately, the imposter turned his gaze toward Luna, as if expecting her to speak up first.
That small action alone sent a wave of discomfort through the room. The Freedom Fighters exchanged uneasy glances, a silent frustration simring beneath the surface. They were being undermined—right in their own headquarters. Yet, despite their irritation, they couldn't ignore the fact that this imposter had just ntioned sothing that piqued their interest.
'The Empty Space Project? The one Henricks and Luna were working on before shutting it down due to lack of funds?' She narrowed her eyes recalling the project. Unable to figure out how it mattered and relevant to their circumstance, now of all tis, Blair finally spoke up, her voice laced with skepticism, "How exactly does it help us right now, when our enemies could break through that door any second?"
Her words carried the weight of impatience, mirroring the tension hanging thick in the air. Now, all eyes were back on the fake Baylor. Was this conversation even necessary right now? Was trying to trick them under the guise of offering a solution?
Seeing that both Henricks and Luna were playing dumb, the fake Baylor let out a weary sigh.
"We know everything there is to know about your Empty Space Project." His tone was calm, almost amused. "Honestly, we were both shocked and impressed by the progress you've made. You don't need to tell you—you already know—your research into empty space is years ahead of the top ten universities and even the central governnt."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering just a fraction. "You've hit a critical bottleneck. Given enough ti, you'd overco it—one way or another. And when you do, you'll be the first card apprentices to establish an artificial channel for inter-realm travel."
The weight of his words settled heavily over the room. But before anyone could react, he continued, his voice almost teasing.
"But here's the problem—you don't have ti. And you don't have the resources." He let that sink in before adding, "We can give you both… and then so."
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
The other departnt heads exchanged confused glances. The Empty Space Project? What the hell was this guy talking about? As far as they knew, that project had been shut down ages ago due to budget cuts.
But Henricks and Luna?
They were sweating bullets.
Panic flickered in their eyes, their minds racing pondering the sa, 'How the hell did he know this much? Was it Ned who revealed it to them to save his ass?'
What made it worse? The real culprit responsible for all this—Ned—was missing.
aning, all the bla for the ruthless and heartless choices they made behind everyone's backs? It was about to land squarely on their shoulders.
And even though the fake Baylor's words ant their research—the project they had poured blood, sweat, and sleepless nights into—now had a real chance of being completed...they did not like where this conversation was headed.
Not. One. Bit.
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