episode_0350

At first, we didn’t fully understand the Inspector’s implicit remark. Mobilizing our collective intelligence, this is how it would be interpreted:

“Only the chairman died? This isn’t the true Raihan? Or does it mean we need to find and eliminate the real one?”

“Does the chairman’s death mean something different from the giant organization called Laplacia? But last time, the Inspector said just catching Raihan was enough!”

Unfortunately, our Violet was weak at grasping the subtle nuances of language. Our weaknesses were precisely in language and mathematics.

A fierce debate erupted over the ambiguous statement. Just as signs of a Violet marathon meeting began to appear, Seijis calmly approached, perhaps noticing me standing blankly.

“Violet?”

“Ah, yes!”

Indeed, literature is abstruse. Even if I got perfect scores in other subjects, math and literature still felt like a mystery. It would be wise to ask directly.

Both of our interpretations hit the mark.

“The chairman is definitely dead. What we saw earlier was Raihan. He was weaker than expected, though.”

Seijis continued, his gaze full of deep insight.

“The problem is the meaning of his last statement.”

“He was talking about his will?”

It was confirmed that the target we had blown up the mansion and rounded up was Raihan. The Inspector’s concern didn’t seem to be merely about the authenticity of the target.

“…Raihan always emphasized ‘memes.’ He mass-produced shape-shifters, injecting them with his basic memories and behavioral patterns for routine tasks. It’s a crude system, incomparable to your network, but at least superficially, it could perform the chairman’s role.”

“Only their appearance? So it wasn’t a complete replication.”

“There’s a significant difference in cognitive ability and autonomy. Shape-shifters lack independent will and possess no real understanding or creativity; they are essentially biological recorders. High-level research or strategic judgment is, of course, impossible. However, their appearance and basic memories alone gave them value as a public symbol.”

“Still, Raihan was eliminated. Without a leader, wouldn’t dangerous research or plans naturally cease?”

The Inspector replied with a cold analysis.

“One must consider the complexity of the situation. There will be temporary delays, but if clear guidelines and direction have been established, and sufficient human and material resources are available, the work will continue. Judging by his final demeanor… we cannot rule out the possibility that systematic preparations were made for his absence.”

Hmm, a logical explanation. Our Violet research, for example, achieved groundbreaking development in the innovative direction of V-Animal creation after Bernike joined, even though her role was mainly limited to advice and setting direction.

“Furthermore, Laplacia is a massive corporation. Even if they don’t possess the chairman’s exact capabilities, a considerable level of talent is still present… I think I judged too simplistically based on past experiences.”

“Past experiences?”

“…The core issue is this. Further strikes against Laplacia might be necessary. We also need to consider the possibility of them being absorbed into the Foundation.”

Ultimately, it meant that the task at hand had become more complicated than expected. We had cut off Laplacia’s head, but now its severed limbs might crawl away in every direction.

Laplacia had to be completely crippled before it could cause more problems.

“Alright, so the conclusion is that we just need to smash them up more thoroughly, right?”

The Inspector slowly nodded, his expression filled with deep thought. There seemed to be more complex strategic considerations, but they weren’t important for now.

So, we resumed the destruction operation.

“Move! Move!”

The Violets stationed throughout the city began to move in unison. Above our heads, countless leaflets fluttered down from the sky like scattering cherry blossoms.

[The True Nature of the Evil Laplacia!] [Condemn the Human Experimentation in Secret Labs!]

A fleet of small powered hang gliders adorned the city sky, showering down propaganda materials.

While the Violets of the anonymous network spoke the truth, the propaganda materials rained down across the city like a summer downpour.

**

If emotions could take on visible forms, Laplacia Corporation’s temporary command headquarters’ 35th-floor boardroom would have long since been suffocated by a thick fog of despair. Beyond the ultra-high-rise building’s specially reinforced glass, the city’s vibrant daily life unfolded, but even the high-altitude view, which normally brought a sense of superiority and exhilaration, now felt precarious, as if clinging to a cliff’s edge.

“Our market capitalization has been cut in half. Do you see it? The stock price is plummeting like someone who jumped off a cliff, not knowing the bottom! At this rate, we’ll have to hang ourselves and jump too!”

“Three research labs have been reduced to ashes, and the main office building looks like a beehive gnawed through by a giant insect. The attackers are destroying all our assets and plundering them! What… what can we possibly do?”

The CFO wiped his sweat-drenched forehead and put down his tablet with trembling hands. The head of the research lab’s voice echoed his, equally shaky. Everyone already knew the answer.

Nothing.

True to their reputation, the infamous terrorists’ attack was swift and powerful. Laplacia was ruthlessly dismantled in less than an hour after the chairman’s death and the escalation of hostilities truly began.

In fact, it was questionable whether “hostilities” was even the right term. Just as grinding something into powder with a pulverizer isn’t called ‘combat.’

On the large monitor display in the conference room, the nightmarish scene of the chairman being brutally dismembered by an unidentified black-clad man continuously replayed. In that horrific scene, where the founder of the century’s leading biotechnology company turned to ash and dust, everyone read the two words, ‘Ariel Group,’ in terror.

“They won’t come this far, will they?” one director asked, his voice trembling as if to reassure himself.

“They won’t! No way! This is the 35th floor. Security is tight, and our anti-air defense system is operational! Whether from the sky or the ground, we won’t be caught like Magnabyss!”

The security team leader shouted, desperately denying it. The entire building had entered an emergency alert status, as if in a state of war. Heavily armed guards were deployed like a spiderweb from the first floor to the rooftop, and state-of-the-art automated defense systems bared their sharp teeth on every floor.

Yet, they couldn’t be sure of their safety. The media and the Foundation remained silent, but rumors could reach those in their position. The vibrant terrorists who had newly appeared in Circlecliff slaughtered the Foundation’s patent enforcement unit as if cutting paper dolls, adding another head to their bloody trophy case.

If Chairman Raihan’s meticulously developed secret research had been completed, they might have been able to fight them on equal terms, or even subjugate them, but that was now in the past.

“When will the Foundation’s rescue team arrive? This is the third time we’ve been told the helicopter has departed…”

Heavy footsteps broke the uneasy silence. The conference room door opened, and a cold breeze swept through.

“No need to worry.”

“Chairman?!”

Raihan walked in proudly, a victorious smile on his face. His tailored luxury suit was spotless, as if it had just been ironed.

“B-but, surely, Chairman…”

“Dead? Ha! That was my double. I have never experienced death. We will counterattack now. Terrorists like them…”

Instructions poured out with mechanical precision.

“Immediately procure emergency funds in the designated direction.”

“Activate Emergency Protocol B-7. All research data is being transferred to backup servers; are the previous instructions being properly executed? How many core researchers have been evacuated to safety? What about the evacuation process?”

A subtle sense of discord permeated the chairman’s tone. Instead of his usual sharp demeanor, there was a dull, mechanical feeling. However, the directors, consumed by extreme tension, failed to notice such a minor crack.

“We will also proceed with indirect investment and asset distribution through our continental branches…”

It was precisely then, as the directors faithfully followed his words, that the planning director’s sharp eyes caught sight of a strange presence.

Suddenly, they spotted a single mouse on the conference table, its eyes alert, looking around.

“What is that? Did someone bring a pet?”

Its white fur was speckled with gray spots, like a tiny soldier’s camouflage. At first glance, it looked like a common lab mouse from a Laplacia lab, but its intelligent eyes were somehow different.

The mouse squeaked cutely, as if greeting them.

“Squeak?”

“Guards! A lab animal has escaped. Get rid of it!”

The meeting was interrupted. The bodyguards scrambled to catch the mouse.

It was futile. The mouse leaped across the table like a circus acrobat.

“Squeak! Squeak squeak!”

The mouse was nimble. This mottled rascal skillfully dodged the clumsy, magic-enhanced hands and three persistent attacks like a dancer’s performance.

They belatedly felt an ominous premonition.

“Over there… outside…”

The chief secretary’s voice turned as cold as ice. Everyone looked out the window.

Figures in black wingsuits were plummeting towards the building like a swarm of bats rising from hell. They sliced through the beams of light spilling from the building, weaving through the smoke trails of soaring missiles. Their numbers had dwindled, should have dwindled, so why weren’t they? They were coming. They were!

Raihan’s face contorted like a rotten tomato.

“My God—”

—CRASH!

With a thunderous explosion, the reinforced glass shattered. As the dust scattered like diamonds, two squads’ worth of combat troops infiltrated the building with shadowy swiftness.

“Hands up! Get down! Resist and you die!”

Like lightning flashing from one end of the sky to the other, Laplacia’s abandoned daughter arrived on her day, earlier than expected.

The Ariel Group had raided.

**

Half a day after the engagement began, the battle was now entering a lull. Our Violets swept through the offices like a swarm of locusts, stuffing all equipment into their inventories. They indiscriminately collected unidentified samples and experimental apparatus.

This was the Violet-style requisition operation.

“No! You brutes! That thesis is…”

“We’ll put this to good use now! Write a new one!”

“What kind of experimental equipment is this?” “Just collect it for now! We’ll have Bernike appraise it later!”

Anything visible was collected. Things that seemed useful were collected even more meticulously. Things that Laplacia considered precious or important were thoroughly plundered. Furthermore, suspicious individuals who didn’t flee or fight us, but strangely focused only on their work, were unconditionally verified.

“Ugh, Aaaaargh!”

“That’s him! A shape-shifter!”

Shape-shifters were indistinguishable even by the sensitive sense of smell of the mice. And they didn’t just mimic the chairman’s appearance. There were those disguised as ordinary office workers, guards, and even mid-level executives. Of course, the most noticeable were the fake Raihans. We had already dealt with several imposters mimicking the chairman.

The problem was that our prediction was accurate.

“They were even commanding on site!”

When Laplacia’s head was severed, its limbs and body scattered in all directions, each choosing to survive independently, like wriggling earthworms. Some areas were already empty or had important documents half-burned. The harvest was poorer than expected. There were many minor items, but it felt like the true core was missing.

“What? Why are there only small fry and nobodies left?”

The fake Raihans’ combat abilities were terrible, but the Inspector’s concern was correct. The shape-shifters, disguised as the chairman or other management staff, were frantically directing and supporting the evacuation like loyal soldiers.

Suddenly, curiosity struck me. How far could these doppelgangers mimic? At this rate, these pseudo-human fiends who transform into people might even be able to conduct research and development.

The Inspector had explained the limits, but complacency was dangerous. They might be hiding capabilities comparable to ours.

“Hey, are you the real Raihan? Or not?”

I captured one of the rampaging ones and questioned him. His peculiar, disgusting green hair swayed, so I grabbed a handful and violently pulled it out.

“Ugh… Do you think I’ll answer for this? Yes, I am the chairman of Laplacia—”

—SLICE!

I shoved the severed surface of his arm in front of his eyes.

“No, you’re a shape-shifter! You’re a monster. Look, when I cut off your arm, it’s like jelly. You’re a fake!”

The shape-shifter replied with an intellectual’s sneer.

“Ha, how utterly foolish, typical of one who tries to solve everything with violence. A monster? So what? My true nature isn’t that important. I have inherited the chairman’s memories, and I can directly act as his proxy for all official authority.”

“Is that so? Shall we test it?”

“Almond, connect to Walnut. Let’s call an acquaintance to verify his authenticity.”

A moment later, Number 4214 trembled as if tuning a radio frequency, then emitted a sharp voice that was Violet, yet not Violet.

“Hello, Valence.”

“…Is this now a masquerade?”

A nervous voice, sharp as a blade, emerged from the other side of the animal network and me.

“Do you remember what happened at the Eckhardt Department of Neuroscience, 3rd-year seminar?”

“…?”

Faced with the deluge of information, the shape-shifter’s pupils spun like a broken compass.

“Ah, and what were the three main challenges of the synapse construction problem you were so obsessed with?”

“Uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you trying to bluster?”

He began to stammer like a malfunctioning machine.

“What’s your view on the limitations of the Aether-Neural Junction Theory? And what solutions did Professor Renos’s 76-0A412 report and the Eckhardt Institute of Science provide for it?”

“Ah, haha… This pointless conversation will surely…”

The cold voice from beyond Violet declared firmly.

“Hmph, that’s not Raihan. You idiot. Did you call me just to test a mere imitation? Against a target without such intellectual capacity? What a waste of time.”

As Bernike’s cold declaration ended, I cleanly severed the shape-shifter’s neck with a single stroke.

“Hmm, so it’s just a substitute after all.”

It was a fortunate outcome. These shoddy imitations, not even true clones, posed no threat to us. At best, they were temporary placeholders for handover.

Nevertheless, that handover was executed swiftly and systematically, like a well-rehearsed performance. As if calculating his own demise in advance, key personnel, crucial equipment, and vital supplies had already vanished like mist.

The Inspector, showing a rare flustered expression, apologized in a low voice.

“…I was too complacent. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! We should have been a little faster, too, right?”

We consoled Seijis in unison. Well, no one is perfect.

But there was no time to dwell on regret. They were swifter than they had been at Magnabyss, escaping with more goods. Therefore, there was only one thing we needed to focus on now.

“Where on earth did they hide?”

The next day, we quickly located the final destination of Laplacia, which had split and fled in several directions.

**

[Yesterday, ruthless terrorists slandered and indiscriminately destroyed a global corporation that pioneered the cutting edge of modern medicine and led innovation in awakened research, with groundless accusations.]

[The human and material losses from this are truly astronomical, and among them… is my kin, the founder of Laplacia and chief director of the Foundation, Chairman Raihan Valence. He was brutally murdered by these barbaric ruffians.]

Numerous eyes watched with bated breath as Luminexa’s major announcement played on the large screen. On screen was a middle-aged gentleman with neatly combed green hair, strikingly similar to Raihan.

[While there have been minor differences of opinion with the Foundation in the past, we remember the revolutionary progress Laplacia brought to humanity. Chairman Raihan developed groundbreaking treatments and vaccines for the deadly Corpus Infection, and since then has made immense contributions to human welfare through countless medical innovations, including rapid recovery medicine that saved countless modern hunters and humans.]

I see, there’s that aspect too. We also purchase and use Laplacia’s medicines.

[The terrorists, who call themselves the Ariel Group, claim they are exposing unethical human experimentation and corporate immorality. This is a clear falsehood. Then I ask: If you pride yourselves on being so righteous, why do you operate hidden behind masks and perception-altering devices? Why do you lack the courage to act openly under the transparent light of justice?]

The Foundation’s Secretary-General spoke calmly with a restrained tone, but his words were sharp as a razor. He was painting us as heinous terrorists.

“We *are* villains, aren’t we?” “Are we?”

Just as I was engaging in self-reflective thought, the decisive declaration fell.

[The Foundation has decided it will no longer condone this indiscriminate violence, perpetrated under the guise of justice.]

“Huh? What did he say?”

[I hereby announce the matter unanimously resolved by all members of the board of directors.]

A powerful spotlight poured down.

[The Foundation immediately begins a full-scale subjugation operation against these vile terrorists, who call themselves the Ariel Group—]

Oh, so that’s how they’re playing it. He’s not wrong. We *are* terrorists, and it’s true we operate in secret. As for their declaration of war, I decided to concede for now.

But being called a terrorist somehow made me subtly uneasy.

“We’re democratic fighters! They’re ignorant of clone democracy!”

We decided to respond to their grand declaration of subjugation. First, let’s answer in our own way.

“What’s the current location of the Cascadia cargo ship?” “Perfectly docked at the target point. All preparations are complete!”

The Foundation’s board of directors consists of nine members. These technocratic, child-abducting, confining old farts try to judge us from on high, as if they are gods of judgment.

“Pigs! We need to gut them!” “Let’s drag them down quickly!”

It doesn’t matter. If Laplacia seeks protection under the Foundation, we’ll just smash them together. First, we need to prepare a rebuttal via the anonymous network broadcast regarding that speech. But we also need to show them our power.

It was time to begin the second operation. The Violet command center issued a firm directive.

“Air squadron, prepare for launch!”

**

Hours after the Ariel Group subjugation declaration, Luminexa Director 07’s helicopter, flying over the twilight sea, suddenly burst into flames. The helicopter plummeted towards the sea like a burning meteor, trailing a black plume.

Minutes later, countless hang gliders soared into the sky over the western district, scattering leaflets.

[Punishment for the Hypocritical Foundation! Open the Archives and Release the People!] [Open Luminexa!]

The evening sun dyed the coast of Rustrum red. As if foreshadowing the purge that was about to begin.

“8 left!”