A secret communication channel connected to key officials from around the world—nobles, prime ministers, presidents, chairmen, kings, and other high-ranking figures who were still alive—only one chance remained.
"Connecting to the President of the United States..."
"Connecting to the British Prime Minister..."
"Connecting to Australian Generals..."
"Connecting to the President of Russia..."
"Connecting to the Eastern Chairman..."
"Connecting to King Candado..."
"Connecting to the President of France..."
"Canada..."
"Saudi Arabia..."
"..."
White House, Oval Office.
Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting rays across the handwoven red carpet. The light fell on the weary face of the U.S. President, his eyes vacant.
The President clasped his hands under his chin in silence. On the screen before him, every remaining power capable of resistance had already mobilized, prepared for a final confrontation.
As the channel signals lit up one by one on the screen, the power of the entire world converged here to fight against Barmulodi.
"Begin."
The President of the United States focused on the connection status and gave the order.
...
Emperor Building.
The sun still shone brilliantly on the majestic structure, casting it in radiant light.
Luthor's Office.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, basking the room in a warm glow.
Suddenly, a shadow descended outside the window, cast alongside a gondola.
Lex Luthor remained calm, reviewing documents. The sudden shadow darkened the warm sunlight, drawing his attention.
The shadow was long, stretching across Luthor's bald head and casting the room into dimness.
He looked up from the file and gazed outside through the glass.
A cleaning staff member, wearing a blue uniform, was strapped into a safety harness, standing on a maintenance gondola.
He had blue eyes, a rugged face, smooth and well-maintained skin, tall stature, a neatly trimmed beard, and refined mannerisms. At a glance, it was clear he took great care of his appearance.
The glass was one-way, so the man didn't realize Luthor was observing him.
Luthor leaned back in his office chair, calmly watching the cleaner scratching at the window. His motions were clumsy, distracted, and clearly untrained.
Luthor studied him for a moment, folded the file, and tossed it onto the desk. He pulled open a drawer, took out a Cuban cigar from the humidor, and slipped it into his suit pocket.
He stood, pushed back his chair with a nudge of his knee, patted down his white suit, adjusted it, and walked out of the office with calm composure.
Luthor knew every cleaner in the Emperor Building. The man outside the window didn't belong.
This one's movements were amateurish. His manicured beard and glowing skin made it clear he had never performed such menial labor.
Interesting.
Without changing expression, Luthor took the elevator straight to the first floor and walked to a secluded back door of the Emperor Building—a safety passage that few used.
Along the way, he passed a beautiful female courier and a familiar HR employee. The HR worker, who was right-handed, greeted him with tea in his left hand. Luthor merely nodded and walked on.
He opened the door to the safety passage. Sunlight poured directly onto him. Without the glass curtain wall's filter, the sun felt scorching on his bald head—no longer warm, but burning.
Luthor walked to a shaded corner near a trash bin, pulled out the cigar from his suit, clipped the end with a small pair of scissors, and dropped the clipping in the trash.
He lit the cigar, took a silent puff, glanced sideways at the Emperor Building, and continued smoking in silence.
…
Sky Garden.
The Sky Garden atop the Emperor Building.
A stunning expanse of greenery, it was the most famous leisure and dining venue in the entire building.
Hundreds of meters high, surrounded by fresh, vibrant plants and clean air, it offered a panoramic view of the metropolis and served global gourmet cuisine.
Little Hera wore a white princess dress, her two porcelain-white calves exposed. She helplessly dragged along a girl behind her in a black princess dress. The younger girl's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she passed displays of world-class desserts and delicacies. She couldn't resist raising the NK45 Canon SLR camera hanging from her neck to take photos of the food.
"Hey… Hera… wait up…"
The girl in black was flustered, nearly stumbling before Hera pulled her forward.
Without responding, Hera led her to a seat with a clear view of the city skyline, where the sky met the horizon.
The girl in black had no complaints about the view. She raised her camera again and began snapping photos.
Little Hera ordered over a dozen gourmet desserts.
She picked up her tablet. On it were photos of people from various nations and races.
Seeing no new updates, she flipped the tablet face down and set it aside.
"I'm so jealous of you, Hera. Your father is Barmulodi."
The girl in black spoke with admiration and envy.
Bardi was listed as Little Hera's guardian at school.
"He's okay. Besides loving his family, Daddy is rich, domineering, handsome, kind, sincere, adorable, knowledgeable, cultured, talented, owns five cars, excels in both civil and military matters, charismatic, articulate, brilliant, tenacious, farsighted, wise, decisive, peerless… other than that, nothing special."
Little Hera casually rattled off 172 idioms. The girl stared at her, dumbfounded, mouth in an "O" shape.
When the desserts were served, the girl realized she'd been made fun of.
"Well, your dad's not bad either. He's a general. I saw him on TV yesterday."
Little Hera nodded in approval.
In her heart, obedient people were truly the best.
"No way. My old man's a tyrant. Always controlling me. He won't even let me become a journalist."
The girl pouted, stuffing her mouth with dessert to vent her frustration.
"When will you let me interview your dad?"
She asked again, a hopeful tone in her voice, white ice cream smudging the corner of her lips.
"Not now. He took the fourth nanny out to play today."
Little Hera replied nonchalantly.
"What?! The upper class really lives lavishly!"
The girl was shocked, hurriedly pulling out a notepad to take notes.
"Tell me more. What else?"
Di...
A warning chime sounded from the tablet.
Little Hera casually picked it up. The girl looked at her expectantly.
With a crisp tone, Hera added, "Oh, and a lover from far away came to settle accounts with him. He also saved a dead lover…"
She swiped her finger across the screen. One of the portraits on the display dimmed.
Died in peace.
Three hundred and ninety-two people, wiped out to the ninth generation.
In the White House, the U.S. President watched his screen as the portrait of the Swedish Prime Minister disconnected.
(To be continued.)
***
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