The war room shifted again.
Soft mechanical hums echoed through the chamber as the holographic map compressed, layers of data folding inward like petals closing around a flower's core. The projection tightened until Malaysia filled the air between Isey and Ling like a living organism.
Cities glowed faintly.
Trade routes shimmered like veins.
And scattered across it all were red markers.
They pulsed slowly.
Deliberately.
Almost like breathing.
Ling lifted a finger.
Three of the markers brightened immediately.
"Top-level problems," he said calmly. "But not all of them are enemies."
The first marker expanded.
Crimson light spread across the map as a symbol emerged: interlocking chains forming a closed circle, each link hooked inward like claws gripping flesh.
Chinese Communist Company.
The symbol rotated slowly in the air while layers of data unfolded beneath it.
"Led by Cii Pan Zee," Ling continued. "Codename: Blood Chain. A-ranked superhuman."
A portrait appeared beside the emblem.
A middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a composed smile that radiated quiet authority. He wore expensive suits, stood beside government officials, attended charity galas, and appeared regularly in corporate news coverage.
To the public, he looked like a successful businessman.
To Jury—
He looked like infection wearing a human face.
"Ability: Hemokinetic Binding," Ling said.
The map shifted again, revealing diagrams of ritual circles and flowing blood sigils.
"Blood contracts," Ling explained. "He manipulates blood as both weapon and oath. Anyone bound through his rituals becomes linked to him. Loyalty isn't requested."
The symbols pulsed.
"It's enforced."
Isey watched the information scroll across the air.
"Coercion through biology," he murmured.
Ling nodded once.
"Break the contract," he said, "and the victim's body begins collapsing from the inside. Organ failure. Internal hemorrhaging. Sometimes it takes hours. Sometimes seconds."
More files surfaced.
Altered zoning approvals.
Disaster relief funds mysteriously redirected.
Whistleblowers vanishing after "accidents."
Court investigations quietly collapsing before prosecution.
Entire districts had been reshaped to benefit corporations tied to CCC.
Politicians shifted voting patterns overnight.
Construction projects passed inspection despite obvious violations.
Ports changed ownership through layers of legal manipulation so dense they resembled labyrinths more than contracts.
Isey's eyes narrowed slightly.
"They're careful," he said quietly.
Ling shook his head.
"No," he corrected calmly. "They're systematic."
The holographic map zoomed deeper.
Financial networks spread outward like infected neural pathways through banks, shipping firms, construction conglomerates, logistics hubs, and shell corporations.
"CCC isn't just a guild," Ling continued. "It's a corporate front, a political parasite, and a superhuman syndicate operating simultaneously."
One of the data panels flickered.
Evidence of blackmail.
Bribery routed through intermediaries.
Missing witnesses.
Mana-enhanced coercion rituals hidden beneath legal contracts.
"They don't break laws," Ling finished.
He looked directly at the glowing chains.
"They bend them until the law breaks for them."
For several seconds, the room remained silent except for the low hum of the holographic systems.
Isey's finger hovered near the red marker.
His gaze remained steady.
"This is the core," he said quietly.
Ling followed his line of sight.
"Yes."
Isey tapped the projection once.
"Everything else grows around it."
Ling nodded slowly.
"CCC is the tumor."
The crimson symbol pulsed again.
Like a heartbeat.
Then the second marker illuminated.
Blue.
The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately.
Peacekeeper.
Ling's expression softened slightly—not emotionally, but with unmistakable certainty.
"Led by Rafi the Detonator," he said. "S-ranked."
A series of images unfolded across the chamber.
Peacekeeper teams pulling civilians from collapsed buildings during Gate breaks.
Rescue units forming defensive lines while monsters surged through fractured portals.
Evacuation squads guiding terrified civilians through burning streets and collapsing districts.
Rafi himself appeared repeatedly in the footage.
A bald man with brown skin and a permanent expression of focus, directing operations while explosions erupted behind him.
"Ability: Controlled Detonation," Ling explained. "He manipulates explosive force—redirects shockwaves, nullifies destructive impact, or weaponizes them when necessary."
One recording expanded.
A skyscraper tilted toward a trapped crowd during a Gate collapse.
Instead of allowing the building to fall, Rafi detonated the structure outward in a perfectly measured blast, turning thousands of tons of concrete into harmless debris that scattered away from the civilians below.
Isey watched silently.
"They're clean," Ling said firmly.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
"No hidden operations," he continued. "No selective enforcement. No extortion. No political games."
Financial audits appeared next.
Transparent.
Verified.
Boring in the best possible way.
Isey exhaled slowly.
Some tension eased from his shoulders.
"Good people," he said.
Ling nodded once.
"Very."
More footage surfaced.
Peacekeeper members rebuilding damaged neighborhoods through the night.
Volunteers distributing supplies to refugees displaced during early Gate disasters.
Medical support teams working until exhaustion forced them to stop.
"They're idealists," Ling said quietly. "They still believe heroes matter."
A brief pause followed.
"In doing the right thing," he added, "even when it costs them."
Isey didn't hesitate.
"Then they're off the board."
Ling nodded immediately.
"Completely."
The blue marker dimmed.
"Peacekeeper remains untouched."
The third marker appeared.
Purple.
But softer than the others.
Outcast Society.
Ling paused before speaking.
"They aren't criminals by choice."
The files unfolded more slowly this time.
Displaced superhumans.
Refugees.
People whose abilities manifested violently or too late for official organizations to accept them.
Others had simply been abandoned during the chaos of the early Gate years.
Shelters appeared across the map—converted warehouses, abandoned apartment blocks, hidden industrial districts transformed into makeshift communities.
"They were discarded," Ling said quietly.
"By society. By institutions."
His finger tapped one of the files.
"By the same system protecting CCC."
Isey remained silent.
"These people gathered together because nobody else would protect them," Ling continued.
"No sponsorship."
"No support."
"No public sympathy."
"And Alisha?" Isey asked.
Ling opened another profile.
A young woman appeared in the projection, standing inside a crowded kitchen surrounded by alchemical cooking equipment and glowing mana burners.
"Alisha the Hell Chef," Ling said.
"A-ranked."
Her ability list unfolded.
Mana-infused cuisine.
Nutritional enhancement.
Temporary combat reinforcement through specialized meals.
Long-term survival support for superhumans operating inside unstable Gates.
"She feeds them," Ling explained.
"She keeps them alive."
Isey studied her profile carefully.
"No coercion?"
"No exploitation," Ling answered.
"Just survival."
The room quieted briefly.
Then Isey nodded once.
"Then they're not targets."
Ling's lips curved faintly.
"They're victims."
Two more markers appeared.
These ones glowed harshly.
Violently.
Beast Rule.
War Squad.
Ling's expression cooled.
"These," he said, "are straightforward."
Images surfaced immediately.
Beast Rule raiding residential districts.
Superhumans dragging civilians from buildings for forced recruitment.
War Squad members fighting brutal territorial battles through crowded streets.
Extortion.
Public intimidation.
Disappearances.
Witness suppression.
Bodies left in alleys as warnings.
"They rule through violence," Ling said.
"No ideology."
"No higher purpose."
"Just power."
"Just brutality."
The footage continued.
Civilians kneeling.
Businesses paying "protection fees."
Entire neighborhoods living under fear.
"But they're not the root," Isey said quietly.
Ling shook his head.
"No."
The map zoomed outward again.
"If we eliminate them first," Ling explained, "CCC absorbs the vacuum."
The projection simulated the outcome.
Territories shifting.
Political influence spreading.
Corporate ownership quietly replacing open violence.
CCC growing stronger.
Isey's eyes returned to the crimson chains.
"Then we begin here," he said.
"With CCC."
Ling studied him carefully.
"That's the hardest option."
Isey didn't blink.
"That's why we take it."
His finger pressed against the glowing symbol again.
"Everything else depends on it."
Silence settled across the chamber.
No speeches.
No dramatic declarations.
Just two men studying a map and deciding how a nation would change.
"CCC survives on three pillars," Ling said at last.
Three layers unfolded across the projection.
Money.
Leverage.
Fear.
The first layer illuminated.
Corporate networks spread through the map like veins.
Shell corporations.
Construction firms.
Shipping companies.
Financial subsidiaries.
Everything technically legal.
"We don't freeze accounts," Isey said.
Ling nodded.
"Too slow."
"Too visible."
Isey leaned slightly forward.
"We poison the network instead."
Ling's eyes sharpened.
"Explain."
"Traceable mana residue," Isey said calmly. "Demon-tainted materials seeded into their logistics chains."
He pointed toward several shipping routes.
"Illegal relic signatures hidden inside cargo."
Ling understood immediately.
"Anyone associated with them becomes a liability."
Isey nodded once.
"Banks panic."
A faint smile touched Ling's lips.
"So do insurers."
"And auditors," Isey added.
"That cuts money."
The first pillar dimmed slightly.
Then the second illuminated.
Leverage.
Faces appeared.
Politicians.
Judges.
Executives.
The blood contract diagrams returned.
Dark ritual circles pulsing with crimson energy.
"Cii Pan Zee binds people through ritualized hemokinesis," Ling said.
"Break the contract," he continued, "and the victim's body fails."
Isey's expression never changed.
"Can it be undone?"
Ling hesitated only briefly.
"Yes."
"Painfully."
Isey didn't hesitate.
"Then we do it anyway."
Ling gave a slow nod.
No argument.
The third pillar emerged.
Fear.
Video recordings surfaced.
Disappearances.
Suppressed investigations.
Quiet executions disguised as accidents.
"They make examples of people," Ling said.
Isey nodded once.
"Then we reverse it."
Ling looked at him.
"Make them the example."
And slowly—
The plan began to take shape.
Not as chaos.
Not as revenge.
But as inevitability.
Isolation.
CCC's allies would quietly distance themselves as scrutiny spread.
Exposure.
Rune Master Shuri would seed traceable constructs throughout CCC's supply chains—runes impossible to erase without triggering investigations.
Then—
Severance.
Ling looked directly at Isey.
"We kill the ringleaders."
Isey nodded once.
"Yes."
Ling held his gaze.
Testing.
Searching.
Then he nodded.
"And Peacekeeper?"
"Off-limits," Isey answered immediately.
"If necessary, we protect them."
"And Outcast Society?"
"We leave them alone."
A brief pause followed.
"Help them quietly if possible."
Ling inclined his head.
"Agreed."
For the first time since Jury had formed—
The map no longer resembled a battlefield.
It resembled a diagnosis.
A disease mapped with surgical precision.
And somewhere deep inside the towering headquarters of Chinese Communist Company—
Cii Pan Zee suddenly paused mid-conversation.
The wine glass in his hand trembled slightly.
A faint pressure tightened inside his chest.
Instinct.
Ancient.
Predatory.
The kind that warned prey moments before the trap closed.
Far beneath the city, hidden in silence and shadow—
The Blood Chain had begun tightening.
And this time—
No one was coming to shield him.