Anruka blocked Eddie, "This is a legitimate experiment. We only develop the Tyrant series, using Tyrants to carry out missions and reduce casualties. You don't have to worry about any reputational impact."
Eddie took a drag of his cigarette, "I have no interest in that kind of thing. If you want to do it, go ahead. Don't drag me into it."
"Fine, if you ever get interested you can come find me. I can arrange for you to join," Anruka said.
"No need," Eddie said, leaving the conference room.
An hour later, in a private suite.
Anruka sat opposite Eddie again, and the two held a secret meeting.
"Are there new biochemical weapon suppliers in Africa?" Eddie asked.
"You mean Irving? He's just a middleman," Anruka smiled. That's his subordinate, but he didn't say so outright.
Eddie waved his hand, "I'm not talking about that dwarf. I'm referring to another group, the manufacturers. That dwarf is only a middleman, no source, he can't stir up any trouble."
"Ha, if he hears you call him a dwarf he might stand up and bite you—he hates being called that. Anyway, the group you mentioned, I'm also tracking. There's a mysterious force entrenched in North Africa, producing all kinds of biochemical weapons and competing with me for business!" Anruka snorted.
"Have you noticed them developing new weapons or viruses?" Eddie tapped the table with his right hand, deep in thought.
"Take a look at this," Anruka raised his hand, and his butler handed over a file bag.
Eddie opened it and examined the contents: the first photo showed a bizarre parasite, the second a twisted mass of black tentacles, the third a villager with blood‑red eyes who seemed adept with all weapons.
"Plaga parasite? That's not the one found on the Iberian Peninsula," Eddie said, putting the photos down.
Anruka nodded, "Exactly, it's an improved second strain. I call it Plaga Type‑2; it can achieve control quickly, though the taste isn't great."
The thought of swallowing parasites made Eddie's stomach churn; the idea of eating something someone else had vomited was genuinely disgusting.
"You mentioned there's a Type‑3?" Eddie's expression turned odd.
"That's classified. The new virus you're talking about is probably that tentacle‑like thing. It's known as the Uroboros Virus, which has appeared in the Western Federation," Anruka explained.
"Is that thing produced in North Africa? I once ran into a CIA operative who seemed brain‑washed, spouting something about 'adults' and the like," Eddie shared some intel.
After their conversation they realized a problem: there is indeed a secret team in North Africa, but who leads it remains unknown.
At that moment the butler's phone rang, apparently confirming something, then he whispered into Anruka's ear.
Anruka's expression shifted, and he waved his hand, "I've got it."
"Someone stabbed the old nest?" Eddie teased, a hint of schadenfreude in his tone.
Anruka crushed his wine glass with his hand, "A stronghold of mine in North Africa was seized, and the Plaga production and testing facilities were taken as well."
"That doesn't sound good. Who did it?" Eddie asked.
"I don't know, but Irving does. I plan to have the BSAA investigate and get the European Union involved. Local militias might have a Talos Tyrant on their hands," Anruka said, his eyes irritated—digging at the head of a dragon is a dangerous game.
Meanwhile, a mysterious figure sat in a wheelchair, hooded, directing the surrounding villagers to move cargo.
The local Black villagers moved the goods expressionlessly, following the stranger's will, and among them was Wesker's silhouette.
An elderly man boarded a helicopter, "William, this is yours now. It's the first step to your ascent to the supreme throne. I'll be waiting above for your good news."
"Leave it to me, senior brother. I won't disappoint you," the man in the wheelchair removed his hood—it was William Birkin!
William should be on an island in the South Pacific, yet he appeared here, now disabled.
Wesker's eyes flickered a few times, a hint of madness in his gaze, but before killing Spencer he still needed to stay alive.
The elderly man on the plane was shrewd; if Spencer were here he'd surely notice, 'Isn't that Marcus's student Brandon?'
Being from the same era, even if not as old as Spencer, Brandon should be near the end of his days, yet aside from looking aged his spirit was remarkably vigorous—who knows what he's done to stay that way.
Chapter 526: A Very Rich Sheva
Who else besides Ada could be such a beautiful operative?
Ada, lightly armed, still wore a sardonic smile, as if she had everything under control.
"Brandon? Wesker's also here. We need to tail Brandon. This tracking mission is assigned to Becca and Rebecca," Ada whispered, the lake's wind ruffling her hair like a goddess.
"Maybe we have to cross two oceans. Have you been supporting this for so long?" Sienna expressed doubt.
"Just follow obediently," Ada cooed, and under mind control she and Sienna took flight.
Affected by an invisible magnetic field, they flew straight to Brandon's helicopter, hooked onto it with a grappling hook, and rode along as the chopper lifted off.
The hitch‑hiking method was flashy, though it demanded great arm strength.
Ada then tossed a rope, cleverly securing both sides of the helicopter. The two swayed on the rope, riding along to continue the pursuit.
Wesker watched the direction Ada vanished, where no one seemed to be, yet he sensed something off—a flash of a red‑skirted silhouette.
"Strange," Wesker muttered low.
"What's strange about it?" William asked without turning his head.
"I'm puzzled by Brandon's plan. I can't figure out what he's after—just having us sell biochemical weapons? That'll draw the BSAA's attention," Wesker quickly found a reason.
"We don't need to doubt, just execute. You have no ill intent, right?" William said coldly, a flash of scarlet in his eyes.
"As long as Spencer dies, I can do anything. Sergei, that dog, must die too," Wesker hummed.
Krauser, who had just escaped death, watched silently. His left arm had healed, though his left hand looked uneven, bearing surgical scars.
On Goddess Island, Oriana, assisting Annette with the endless‑division cancer‑cell experiment, remained calm after learning her brother Morpheus had died.
She stepped out of the lab, lit a cigarette, unfazed by her brother's death. Yet since he was gone, she felt compelled both morally and logically to help find the cause and avenge him.
After Eddie received Oriana's call, he nodded. He didn't mind uncovering Morpheus's death; Africa also housed the Uroboros Virus he wanted. That thing might not greatly enhance the human body, but its replicating property could be useful.
"Don't worry, I'll find the culprit and avenge him," Eddie said.
"Thank you, husband," Oriana said calmly.
"You're welcome. You're my wife, I'll definitely help," Eddie laughed as he hung up. After all, Oriana had given him a daughter, who now works at the company—no credit but plenty of effort.
Besides, Oriana always gave him a great impression, with her striking smoky‑eye makeup.
Two days later, Chris arrived in an unnamed town in West Africa to investigate a biochemical incident. The new local power sought BSAA assistance, having discovered a bioweapon trade on their territory aiming to overthrow their rule.
Chris arrived, and Eddie followed shortly after.