As the convoy rumbled through the snow, Ethan sat in silence, his mind racing. He looked out at the vast, desolate white landscape.
"Is there any way to find more of those flowers, Crul? Can we track them?" Ethan said.
[Only destiny can answer that, Master. But we can try to tilt the scales. However, you must not be the one to look for them. These spiritual plants are incredibly rare and sensitive; they can sense your presence and your intent. If you approach with the desire to harvest them, they will hide or vanish before you even get close,] Crul said.
"So I have to stay away?" Ethan said.
[Exactly. Don’t tell Jason or Albert what they are looking for. Let them move naturally. If they find sothing strange, sothing that calls to them without the pressure of your direct intent, the flowers might reveal themselves. You must distance yourself from the hunt to allow the luck of others to manifest,] Crul said.
Ethan slowly agreed. He understood the logic of the spiritual world—intent was a weapon, and sotis, the only way to win was to let go.
"Jason, stop the convoy," Ethan said.
The heavy tires ground to a halt against the ice, and the vehicles behind them followed suit. Jason looked at Ethan, surprised by the sudden order. "What’s wrong, Boss? Are there enemies ahead?" Jason said extending his hand to take his weapon for combat.
"Nothing like that, don’t worry, it’s just that I have an urgent matter I need to attend to. It’s better if I head back to the Royal headquarters imdiately," Ethan said.
"Now? We still have three outposts to hit, and Albert says the next one is the big one," Jason said.
"I know. That’s why you’re staying. I’ll take one of the Helicopters and fly back alone. You and the n will finish the mission. Exterminate the remaining five points. Don’t leave a single Scavenger standing," Ethan said.
Ethan stepped out of the SUV, the wind whipping his coat. He looked at Jason with a serious expression. "I want you to stay at least one day in each facility after you clear it. Rest, recover, and search the grounds thoroughly. If you find anything... unusual. Anything beautiful or strange that doesn’t belong in a place like this, bring it to . Don’t ask questions, just bring it. You’ll know it when you see it," Ethan said.
"Stay a day? That’ll slow us down, but if those are the orders, we’ll do it. We’ll bring back whatever we find, Boss," Jason said.
Ethan signaled to Falcon 3, who was hovering nearby. The helicopter descended, its rotors kicking up a blinding cloud of snow. As he touched down, the pilot stepped out, but Ethan waved him off.
"I’ll pilot this one myself. You stay here with the convoy. They’ll need your eyes on the ground," Ethan said.
"Sir? Yes, sir!" the soldier said, saluting and joining the ground troops.
Ethan climbed into the cockpit and gripped the controls. He looked down at his n and the long line of trucks one last ti. He needed to get back—not just for the safety of the base, but to begin the grueling process of the Athyst ditation without distractions.
"Good luck, Jason. I expect a clean report when you return," Ethan said.
"We won’t let you down, Boss!" Jason said.
The Falcon lifted off, tilting its nose toward the horizon. Ethan watched the convoy shrink into small black dots against the endless white before turning his full attention to the flight back to Royal Headquarters.
Inside the gilded walls of the capital’s executive wing, the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and the quiet hum of power. Congressman Thompson sat at the head of a mahogany table, surrounded by the city’s most influential power brokers. The upcoming elections were no longer a source of anxiety for him; they were a victory lap.
"The latest polls put us at a twelve-point lead in the industrial districts, Thompson. The funding you’ve secured recently has effectively drowned out the opposition’s campaign," one of the advisors said.
"It is not just about the money. People want stability, and I am the only one capable of providing it," Thompson said, leaning back with a confident smile.
He felt the weight of the encrypted phone in his pocket—a direct line to Ethan. Everything had changed for him. His previous security detail had been replaced by silent, lethal professionals from Royal. His campaign accounts were overflowing, and more importantly, a secret offshore account held millions of dollars provided by Ethan as a "contingency fund."
Thompson knew he had bet on the winning horse. He felt a deep, unspoken gratitude toward his son; if it hadn’t been for Max’s connection to the "mysterious benefactor," Thompson wouldn’t be standing on the threshold of the Governorship.
As the eting adjourned, Thompson stepped out into the grand marble hallway. His Royal bodyguards fell into step behind him instantly. Near the grand staircase, he spotted Max standing with a group of other young n. Thompson raised his hand in a warm wave and walked over to them.
"Max. I didn’t expect to see you at the capitol today," Thompson said.
Max turned around, looking surprised. The other young n straightened their clothes, clearly intimidated by Thompson’s presence.
"Father. We were just heading out. I didn’t an to interrupt your business," Max said.
Thompson noticed the hesitant look on his son’s face and looked at the group of young students. He saw Hailey, Max’s girlfriend from MIT, standing in the back. She looked pale and thinner than the last ti he had seen her; the spark she usually carried seed to have dimd.
"Actually, Father, we ca here to ask you sothing. We haven’t heard a word from Ethan since I went to visit him in prison. It’s been a long ti, and Hailey... well, she’s been very worried," Max said.
Hailey stepped forward, her eyes searching Thompson’s face for any sign of hope. "We’ve tried every channel, Mr. Thompson. It’s like he just vanished after he was released. Is he okay? Do you know where he is?" Hailey said.
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