This corner is mine! Kane's divine foresight!
South Sea. Edge of the Calm Belt.
The sea surface was utterly still, with only scattered moonlight shimmering on the ink-black waters.
This stretch of sea, erased from all nautical charts, was one of the places the World Government least wanted anyone to know about.
A small, unmarked sailboat glided silently like a ghost through the outermost waters.
Redfield stood at the bow, a wide-brimmed black top hat covering most of his face, revealing only a pale, sharply defined chin.
His Observation Haki instantly spread out, covering a radius of three nautical miles. The inner thoughts of every living being were reflected in his perception.
This was the most terrifying ability of the "Solitary Crimson"—Mind Reading.
"Northeast, fifteen meters underwater. Three Sea Kings. Strong territorial instincts but timid..."
"Straight ahead, edge of the island. Fourteen people. Joint outer sentries from CP5 and CP7..."
A mocking smile curled at the corner of Redfield's lips.
So these were the so-called elites?
From their minds, he read a flood of noise: some complaining about the overly salty night-shift meals, others worrying about their pensions after retirement, and still others privately cursing their superiors.
Such lax discipline was as good as no defense at all to him.
In the minds of these people, this place was simply not a target for intruders. The Sea Kings of the Calm Belt and the unmarked coordinates were the best barriers.
Arrogance had become the deadliest flaw.
The sailboat anchored in the reef zone.
He bypassed the frontal defenses and headed toward the northwest side of the island. There, a vertical cliff rose sixty meters high.
The sentries' patrol routes perfectly avoided this area.
He ascended along the cliff face. His movements were extremely subtle, the hem of his red coat fluttering in the wind.
The moment he crested the cliff, he immediately sensed something unusual.
The island's internal defense system.
Infrared rays, soundwave detection, gravity sensors. An airtight defensive network was buried underground. Any object weighing over five kilograms stepping onto the ground would trigger the island-wide alarm in 0.3 seconds.
"Vegapunk's handiwork..."
The design was indeed ingenious, enough to stop ninety-nine percent of infiltrators on these seas.
But Redfield happened to be the remaining one percent.
He never even touched the ground.
Moon Walk.
For the entire infiltration route spanning several kilometers, he maintained a suspended posture two meters above the ground.
For a monster from the same era as Roger, using Moon Walk to travel was easier than breathing.
Ten minutes later, the core area of the building complex came into view.
The central main building was three stories high, surrounded by seven or eight auxiliary structures and three massive domed warehouses.
Observation Haki delved deeper—
Second floor of the main building. One person.
Found him.
Just as Redfield was about to approach, he suddenly halted.
First floor of the main building.
A figure sat cross-legged in the darkness.
His mind held no stray thoughts, only the monotonous cycle of "duty" and "vigilance."
A top agent of Cipher Pol Aigis Zero.
Redfield hovered in mid-air, narrowing his eyes.
Strength... not weak.
But that was all.
Redfield made a judgment. If it came to a direct confrontation, he was eighty percent confident he could finish it within three moves. But Kane had said: leave no traces.
So, he had to wait.
He sat cross-legged on the roof of a warehouse opposite the main building, his long umbrella laid across his knees.
Waiting for Cipher Pol Aigis Zero to change shifts, patrol, or go to the bathroom.
He had plenty of patience.
——
Meanwhile.
Second floor of the main building, laboratory.
The lights illuminated a scene of chaos.
Harsh fluorescent lights lit up the mess. Countless precious blueprints, drafts, and material lists had been roughly swept to the floor.
A middle-aged man in a white lab coat, his hair as messy as a bird's nest, stood before a newly opened official document, his face livid.
Vegapunk.
The man officially recognized by the World Government as having "wisdom five hundred years ahead of humanity."
He slammed the document onto the table with such force that the table shook twice.
"Rejected?! Rejected again?!"
The document bore the red seal of the Five Elders' direct office, its contents brief:
[Regarding the research project "Island-wide Geothermal Heating Circulation System" (Project No. VPK-0074), after deliberation, it has been determined that it does not align with current strategic direction. All funding allocations and material provisions are to cease immediately. Research results and related data must be sealed and submitted within seven days.]
[Furthermore, progress on the "Pacifista" project (Project No. PX-001) is severely delayed. A feasible implementation plan must be submitted within three months.]
Signed: Holy Land Mariejois · Five Elders' Administration Hall.
Vegapunk stared at the paper, a vein throbbing at his temple.
"Island-wide Geothermal Heating Circulation System"—this was a project he had poured a whole year of effort into developing.
The principle wasn't complicated: utilizing deep geothermal energy from the Earth's crust, channeled through special conduits to the surface to provide constant-temperature heating for the entire island.
His sole motivation for designing this system was his homeland: Balticmore.
That nation, perpetually shrouded in severe cold, saw people freeze to death every winter. The elderly, children, the poor—they couldn't afford charcoal, couldn't afford warm clothing. In his youth, he had personally witnessed an old woman from the neighborhood huddled in a dilapidated hut, only to be found stiff the next day.
He was twelve that year.
From that day on, he swore that one day, he would make every inch of Balticmore as warm as spring.
He had done it. Theoretically, he had done it.
The tests were successful, the data perfect, the costs manageable—if only the World Government would approve mass production and installation in Balticmore, its people would never have to suffer the cold again.
But the Five Elders said: not aligned with strategy.
In their eyes, warming the poor didn't require technology.
Vegapunk staggered to the window, pressing his forehead against the cold glass.
Winter was approaching in Balticmore.
Its people would soon begin waiting to die again.
"...What am I even doing?"
The man ahead of his time laughed mockingly, his voice swallowed by the laboratory's hollow echoes.
Vegapunk switched off the brightest light overhead, allowing the dimness to engulf him.
Outside, on the warehouse roof, a pair of eyes hidden beneath a black top hat quietly watched the lit window on the second floor.
Redfield withdrew his Observation Haki.
He had read it.
Not everything—Vegapunk's thoughts were too dense, too fast; an ordinary mind couldn't contain that flow of information.
But he had captured the key emotions.
Anger, resentment, wavering, despair.
Red Count's eyelid twitched uncontrollably.
"That bastard Kane... did he anticipate even this?"