[TN: There is no chapter 410. This is the continuation]
Following Trump's announcement, global attention turned to the island nation. The once-shadowy power struggle had been dragged into the open.
The truth was now center stage, and pressure mounted rapidly. Wuchang and Germany were the first to apply diplomatic weight, demanding the immediate surrender of the R&D team and the source code behind the virus.
Nations spoke with one voice — the source code was needed to develop software to eliminate the virus.
Tensions had reached a boiling point. All sides were prepared to act.
Governments under pressure had already received classified intel: the 'Satan' virus was, in fact, a form of artificial intelligence.
AI — one of the 21st century's most crucial technologies — symbolized the future. The havoc wrought by 'Satan' demonstrated just how dangerous advanced AI could be, akin to a digital nuclear weapon.
In the coming competition for cyber dominance, securing this AI was paramount.
Wuchang issued strong condemnation, accusing the island nation of endangering global cybersecurity by allowing the virus to spread. They demanded the immediate handover of the Murakami Group and the AI source code.
Yet, a few countries privy to the deeper truth remained tight-lipped. Admitting that 'Satan' was an AI would have monumental consequences — it could destabilize public trust in future AI development.
The international pressure placed the island nation in an impossible position. Public discontent was surging. The country found itself besieged from within and without.
This was the worst crisis the island had faced since World War II — under siege by multiple global powers.
The 'Satan' virus incident had escalated into a full-blown geopolitical conflict.
Economically, the island was already reeling from the virus, with massive losses compounding under the threat of international sanctions. Politically, opposition parties launched vicious attacks, blaming the ruling party for the catastrophe.
Now, the government was caught in a firestorm, internally and externally. A single misstep could mean collapse.
Inside the Prime Minister's office, Anbei's face was dark with fury.
"Those damned vultures," he muttered, barely able to contain his anger.
The Americans were doing everything short of skinning them alive just to seize 'Azure'. Anbei felt suffocated, unable to voice his frustrations publicly.
Pressure poured in from all sides — from allies, rivals, the media, and the public.
In addition to the U.S., four other major powers and Germany were now aligned — six of the world's strongest nations.
"Prime Minister, what should we do now?" an official asked cautiously.
"Tell the negotiators — we'll hand over the virus's source code," Anbei said grimly. "But the development team must be tried at home. They'll return to the island for punishment, and all associated systems must be immediately deactivated."
He had made his decision.
This team had created what amounted to proto-artificial intelligence. Despite the catastrophe, they were still valuable. They understood the code best — the island would need them for future research. Giving up the entire team was out of the question.
Anbei had underestimated the lengths the U.S. would go to obtain 'Azure'. Worse, even their so-called allies had folded under the lure of self-interest.
Refusing to hand it over would bring collective retaliation. The island nation would be crushed.
Surrendering a near-advanced AI left a bitter taste in Anbei's mouth, but under immense pressure, he had no choice. Refusal meant total economic collapse — and his political ruin.
After issuing the orders, Anbei stood and left the meeting room.
Shortly afterward, the island government officially handed over the team behind the virus and the source code — a move directly authorized by Anbei.
The announcement pushed the 'Satan' virus incident to a fever pitch.
There was no formal explanation — a tacit admission of guilt. The world now knew the 'Satan' virus had been developed by an artificial intelligence team from the University of Tokyo.
Protesters swarmed outside the university, furious. Some had lost data, others entire businesses — and now they directed their outrage at the university for covering up the truth.
News outlets around the globe exploded with coverage.
With the team and source code surrendered, global pressure eased. Other nations rolled back sanctions, allowing the island government to focus on internal stability.
But one major challenge remained.
To date, no company or research team had developed a successful method for purging the 'Satan' virus. It continued to dominate global networks. Any system not using the Termite OS, or lacking proper safeguards, remained at high risk.
Washington, D.C. — Microsoft Headquarters
Satya Nadella strode into the cybersecurity lab, his expression grim. As Microsoft's CEO, he was well aware of the company's current woes.
Cybersecurity had never faced such a crisis. The last major breach — the Clown Virus — had shattered their Windows firewall, creating an opening for the Marching Ants' Termite OS to seize a significant chunk of the office software market.
This time, the fallout was worse.
The 'Satan' virus shook the very foundation of cybersecurity — and with it, the credibility of Windows as a secure operating system. Marching Ant had pounced on the opportunity, launching an aggressive campaign to dominate the corporate and high-end markets.
Many companies were now transitioning to Termite OS for their office computers and laptops.
This was terrible news.
The OS market was Microsoft's core business. If that pillar crumbled, so would their global standing.
In tech, things moved fast. Without constant innovation, even giants could fall. Yahoo, Sony — all once-dominant, now shadows of their former selves.
Following the outbreak, Nadella had summoned elite teams from Microsoft's global R&D centers, as well as top talent from their cybersecurity division, to form a crisis unit.
Their goal: neutralize the 'Satan' virus.
But after two weeks, progress was minimal.
"Any luck isolating the Satan virus?" Nadella asked as he entered.
"No breakthroughs yet," a technician in a white shirt replied. "It's the first time we've seen a truly intelligent virus. It's adaptable and incredibly complex."
"How long until we have something?"
"If we had the source code, it'd be easier to develop a kill program. But without it, we can't estimate a timeline."
Nadella felt another headache coming on.
The virus's code was in government hands — and for some reason, they weren't sharing it with private cybersecurity firms.
"So what you're saying is, there's no way we can solve this in five days?"
"President, research is uncertain," the technician said cautiously. "Maybe someone will stumble upon a solution in the next minute. Or maybe it'll take a month. Or a few years. There's no telling."
That was the nature of technology — a sudden spark of insight might lead to a solution in half an hour. But without a breakthrough, even the best minds could chase shadows for years.
Nadella was frustrated beyond words. Each day the virus persisted, Marching Ants gained more market share.
To slow them down, Microsoft had resorted to hiring online trolls to spread negative press and discredit the Chinese company — but the effect had been limited.
Now that the truth had come out, public support for Marching Ants was stronger than ever.
While Nadella wrestled with the crisis, Apple's Tim Cook and Umbrella Corporation's product president, Larry Page, were equally troubled.
The 'Satan' crisis had allowed Marching Ant to dominate the corporate software market.
And that market was a goldmine. In the high-end enterprise sector, Marching Ant had already captured half the field. Beyond encouraging U.S. government sanctions, there was little the others could do to stop them.