Chapter 532

The "numbered item" was not a door.

What else could it possibly be?

Evenson’s naming conventions were occasionally remarkably straightforward.

The Eredar Twins’ company kept several inactive demonic portals in storage for emergencies. Today’s situation was exactly the sort of thing they were meant for. Evenson had no desire to return to the company, board the same plane as Dottie and the others, and endure the entire journey back.

Travel was exhausting.

Teleportation was not.

All Dottie and the others had to do was carry one of the magic circles with them. Once they reached their destination, Evenson could simply teleport directly to them.

He had once considered shipping these circles overseas so he could travel the world without bothering with conventional transportation.

Then he’d remembered a minor complication.

That would technically count as illegal entry into a foreign country.

Without the proper documents, he probably wouldn’t even be able to check into a hotel.

And when it came down to it, transportation wasn’t even the expensive part of international travel.

Still, the arrangement had made things considerably easier for Evenson.

The others, however, were having a harder time accepting the sudden appearance of a fully grown man from a magic circle.

Evenson’s identity was also highly restricted. Very few people within the company actually knew who he was. So when he materialized on the rooftop, everyone except Dottie immediately went on edge.

A few weapons even rose instinctively in his direction.

"Relax, everyone. He’s one of us."

Dottie stepped in before things escalated.

She deliberately avoided revealing Evenson’s true position as the company’s hidden majority shareholder. For now, "one of us" was enough.

The agents exchanged uncertain glances before gradually lowering their weapons.

One woman, however, continued staring at Evenson.

Farrell.

She studied his face for several seconds.

Then her eyes widened.

"You!"

Evenson turned sharply.

Someone recognized him?

He eyed the woman warily.

"Do I know you, ma’am?"

"Of course you do."

Farrell narrowed her eyes.

"I know you, you bastard."

Evenson blinked.

"...What?"

He had been expecting many things.

Being cursed out had not been high on the list.

"Three years ago, when I first came to America..." Farrell’s expression darkened as an unpleasant memory resurfaced. "I believed every word of your sales pitch. I bought that statue of Ra from you because you told me it would bring me good luck."

"Uh..."

Evenson scratched his cheek.

"Didn’t it work?"

He looked her up and down.

"You seem to be doing pretty well. Your salary can’t be bad."

After all, almost everyone else in the group was wearing a mask that concealed their entire face.

She was allowed to walk around with her face uncovered.

That was practically a promotion.

What more did she want?

Farrell let out a cold laugh.

"I would be doing even better if the paint hadn’t started coming off when I cleaned the statue."

Her expression became murderous.

"And if the lead weight inside the base hadn’t fallen out."

Evenson paused.

"Oh."

He rubbed his chin.

"Well, in that case, you don’t need to be angry anymore. I’ve already gotten revenge for you."

Farrell stared at him.

"The guy who supplied those statues to me? I broke both his legs."

"No need to thank me."

Farrell’s expression twitched.

She walked away before she said something that would get her court-martialed.

The person whose legs should have been broken was standing right there.

Evenson watched her go before turning to Dottie.

"What does she do?"

He couldn’t help feeling amused.

His little shop had never exactly been a roaring success. After years in business, he’d finally surpassed three hundred customers and actually celebrated the occasion.

And now, somehow, one of those customers had turned up here.

Was his luck really that bad?

"She’s a weapons operator."

Dottie’s expression tightened.

She had barely managed to suppress her laughter during the exchange.

"The company apparently developed a new product. Gnos wants to use this operation to test its performance."

"A new product?"

Evenson’s curiosity immediately sparked.

He wanted to see what that old bastard had cooked up with the company’s resources this time.

"What is it?"

Farrell walked over to a coffin standing upright nearby.

She entered a security code.

Then came a retinal scan.

Only after both systems approved her did the coffin open.

Farrell turned around and leaned backward into the open compartment.

Mechanical locks clicked into place.

A moment later, she emerged wearing a full-body suit of black armor traced with purple lines.

In her hands was a full-face helmet shaped like an eagle’s head.

Click.

Mechanical wings unfolded from her back.

Each wing housed a turbine engine.

At the same time, a row of raised connectors along her spine drove themselves into her back.

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

The armor was connected directly to her nervous system.

Farrell lifted her chin.

"Vulture," she said coldly. "A new single-soldier air-and-space combat exosuit. Its designation is Vulture."

"Vulture?"

Evenson gave the armor an unimpressed look.

"That’s a terrible name."

Farrell’s jaw tightened.

"Do you have a problem with it?"

She already disliked Evenson because of their previous encounter. Normally, her current position would have required her to swallow that irritation.

Especially since Dottie, the acting commander of this operation, seemed to treat this counterfeit-selling bastard with a surprising amount of respect.

But now he was criticizing the exosuit she had worked so hard to master.

That was harder to tolerate.

Farrell hadn’t started out special.

She had once been an ordinary servant, utterly unremarkable among the countless people working under the Eredar Twins.

Everything changed during one particular test.

The results showed that she possessed an exceptional compatibility with this exosuit.

That was how she had risen above the others.

This armor meant far more to her than Evenson could possibly understand.

"Well..."

Evenson folded his arms.

"I do have one small objection."

Farrell’s eye twitched.

"Vulture sounds intimidating, sure. But even middle-schoolers know what vultures actually do."

He gestured toward the armor.

"They eat carrion."

He pointed at her.

"Our soldiers are supposed to be predators. Not scavengers."

Farrell’s expression darkened further.

Evenson, meanwhile, seemed to have reached a much better idea.

He narrowed his eyes with a grin.

"How about Pharaoh Eagle?"

Farrell stared at him.

"A falcon sent forth by the Pharaoh to punish those who refuse to submit."

His tone suddenly became solemn.

Then he smiled.

"So, Sergeant Farrell... you know who your Pharaoh is, right?"

The effect was immediate.

Farrell and the other agents snapped to attention.

Their hands rose together.

"All glory to the Twins! Hail Umbrella!"

Evenson stared.

A moment passed.

Then several dark lines appeared across his forehead.

"Put your hands down."

The agents obediently lowered them.

"Please act like adults," Evenson said. "You sound like a high-school cheer squad."

He shook his head and walked back toward Dottie.

Once he was beside her, he lowered his voice.

"Honestly, I hate that gesture. It’s childish."

Dottie answered matter-of-factly.

"But the Twins believe it is very effective for building unity and morale."

Evenson rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Whatever."

He waved the matter away.

"Let them do it."

He paused.

"Just make absolutely sure they don’t shout it when they’re dying."

Dottie looked at him.

Evenson grimaced.

"Otherwise they’ll be announcing exactly who they work for right before someone kills them."