Months passed.
Lucien turned twenty four.
The world had changed almost as much as he had.
The Liberator Organization was no longer a rumor. It had rooted itself into the world.
The campaigns in the other continents had also reached their conclusion one after another.
Now everyone knew the name.
Liberators.
To the desperate, it meant hope. To the corrupt, it meant fear. To the practical, it meant that power in the world had begun rearranging itself.
A great many wanted to join them.
That was the problem.
The Liberator bases remained elusive.
People searched for them constantly and almost never found what they were looking for, because the bases were hidden in the plainest ways possible.
