At another hideout where Specter and Orion were staying—far from the doctor's location but closer to VOID's main headquarters.
The screen flickered violently, lines of red warning text flashing nonstop before Specter's eyes. His fingers flew across the keyboard, but only seconds later, every tracking signal linked to Noir vanished completely.
Specter clenched his fist, the calm he usually carried now stained with tension.
"No… that's impossible. The signal was stable just a moment ago."
Orion stood behind him, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall of the old building, frowning.
"Then they noticed. The system's been blocked. Sitting there typing now will only end with a broken keyboard, Specter."
Specter ground his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes. He knew all too well—the organization wouldn't just cut the signal; they could trace it back. Staying here would only increase the risk.
He turned to Orion, voice firm.
"Let's move. We have to go out. The machines and data—we'll have to leave that to the doctor for now."
Orion curled one corner of his mouth into a half-smile, though worry lingered in his eyes.
"Fine. Let's go hunting for information. Honestly, I'm getting tired of staring at endless lines of code anyway."
They packed up swiftly. Before leaving, Specter updated the doctor on the situation, making sure remote support would be ready if needed. Leaving the bunker behind, their figures gradually disappeared into the forest.
Elsewhere, Doctor Aurel remained seated before the remaining screen, his eyes weary but his hands never stopping. Ari stood beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You still want to try? The system's locked."
Aurel sighed, yet continued typing commands.
"Just one tiny gap… I have to maintain contact with Noir. If not, she'll be completely alone."
Out in the night, Specter and Orion merged with the darkness, heading toward the organization's central zone. This time, there were no screens or signals to guide them—only skill and instinct.
The darkness swallowed their footsteps, heralding a journey riddled with danger.
At VOID's facility—
Noir awoke once more in a stark white room, fluorescent lights glaring directly into her eyes. The metal ring around her wrist let out a faint click… click…, every movement under constant surveillance.
A group of technicians in long black coats entered, gloved hands ready, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the sight of her sitting motionless. One of them growled,
"A perfect pawn… finally lying still, waiting for us to dissect."
Noir didn't answer. Her eyes remained cold, though deep inside, exhaustion surged. Her weakened body made resistance nearly impossible—but her will was still sharp as a blade.
They resumed the experiment. Electricity surged from the metal ring through her body, slamming her to the floor. She convulsed. Mocking laughter echoed around the room.
"Let's see how long before you start screaming and begging."
Noir clenched her teeth, enduring in silence. But when her right eye flashed blue, one of the operators jolted back in shock.
"That's impossible… she's wearing an ability-nullifying ring!"
She curved her lips faintly despite her fatigue.
"All of you…IDIOT."
At that moment, the door slid open. Lysander stepped in, his gaze fixed on her—complex, conflicted. Unlike the others, his eyes clearly held inner turmoil. He signaled them to lower the electric output, though his tone remained cold.
"Don't let her die. The organization still needs Noir for other purposes."
One of the scientists turned and replied,
"Don't worry. She's not that easy to kill."
Lysander responded icily,
"Right. But either you're creating a different genome… or you're destroying it."
Hearing this, they temporarily halted the experiment. Noir collapsed onto the floor, breath coming in broken gasps.
"Well then, why don't you show us?" one assassin sneered at Lysander, his tone provocative.
"Show us how you plan to control her, Captain."
He glanced at the man, then back at Noir. Though Lysander loved her deeply, his ambition still overpowered his conscience. He stepped closer to her fragile form, lifted her chin, and said,
"This will be quick…"
He injected something into her body. Moments later, Noir's eyes shifted colors repeatedly, burning with pain. Lysander stood there watching. Deep inside, the sense that he could now control her stirred a twisted feeling of accomplishment.
What he injected was a suppressant drug—once used with great efficiency on subjects undergoing the process of… elimination. He wanted to turn Noir weak and powerless, to satisfy his desire to protect—and possess—her.
In her haze, she still recognized familiar voices.
/Specter… Orion…/
Their names drifted through her mind, like the last thread anchoring her consciousness.
Back in the special holding cell, Noir sat leaning against the cold metal wall. Her body, though tortured, slowly adjusted—thanks to the very modifications the organization had once inflicted on her. They wanted her alive for long-term experiments, inadvertently giving her a chance to recover bit by bit. Lysander likely never expected the treatments to backfire on her.
The arm once torn by electric currents had begun to close its wounds. Her heartbeat steadied, her breathing no longer ragged. She remained silent, hiding the change, letting others believe she was still weak.
In the observation room, several technicians made notes.
"Her physical condition is completely different from the other products… recovery speed exceeds projections."
"Good. The tougher she is, the more valuable the experiment."
Lysander stood there, watching through the glass. He didn't leave her side, a trace of unwillingness lingering within him. His face stayed expressionless, yet when no one was looking, his hand tightened into a fist.
At the same time, somewhere far away—
Specter spread a map across a wooden table, his finger tracing each route. Data support from Doctor Aurel and Ari helped somewhat, but Noir's exact location was still unclear. The organization's system seemed layered with heavy protection, making every trace difficult.
Orion leaned back in his chair, idly spinning a small knife in his hand. His voice was playful, but his eyes were tense.
"If they're really keeping Noir for experiments… then time's running out, my friend."
Specter clenched the pen against the map, growling low.
"I know. But rushing in without a confirmed location… that's no different from suicide."
"Whoever stays calm longer," Orion said quietly, "wins."
Specter gave a slight nod. Yet in his darkened eyes, the fire of worry was clearly growing stronger with each passing day.