"Scott?"
Soren frowned slightly. Who the hell was that?
Seeing Soren's complete lack of recognition, Richard felt blood surge into his chest.
His only son had vanished on East 9 Highway—missing, presumed dead.
And the man he had pegged as the prime suspect couldn't even remember his son's name!
If not for Mr. Armitage's strict order forbidding revenge…
If not for that damn dark-web assassin who took the job and then mysteriously disappeared…
Richard nearly exploded, but he suddenly froze as if receiving some invisible command. He swallowed his rage and forced out:
"Mr. Soren, as a professional who deals with those… things on a daily basis, what is your view on demons?"
"I look at them with my eyes."
Soren's tone was flat.
"…"
Richard's breath caught. His hands clenched the sofa armrests so hard the leather creaked as he fought the urge to draw his gun.
"Let me rephrase."
Richard took a deep breath. "What I mean is, what do you think about demons integrating into human society?"
Before Soren could answer, he pressed on.
"Mr. Soren, the human body is too fragile. Life is too short. A single illness or accident can take everything away."
"But what if… there existed a way for us to discard human weakness, gain eternal life and power far beyond ordinary people, and use it to build a new order…"
"Sounds like a third-rate cult scam to swindle people's funeral money."
Soren gave a cold laugh.
These people had gone to great lengths to invite him here. They hadn't said a single word about the suburban meteor crater or the astronomical compensation they owed.
Instead they were trying to sell him on "evolution" and "demons."
They obviously wanted to recruit him.
So his little meteor stunt had made them wary enough to offer him a seat at the table?
Soren glanced again at the tiny camera in the corner.
The mastermind behind this was cautious—he wouldn't even handle the recruitment himself.
What exactly were these people planning? Immortality through demons?
And those sluggish guests downstairs…
The information he had was still too fragmented, but one thing was certain: these people had made some unspeakable deal with demons.
He needed to dig deeper. He couldn't afford to get dragged into their mess without knowing the full picture.
...
At the same time, in another heavily guarded private estate elsewhere in Los Santos.
A massive screen displayed the live feed of Richard and Soren's conversation.
Several men in sharp suits stood in front of it.
"Richard's mentality is already collapsing. He can't even control his basic emotions anymore," one of them said, shaking his head while swirling his whiskey. "Hatred has turned him into an idiot."
"He was always just a disposable probe," the man seated on the leather sofa said calmly.
If Richard were here, he would instantly recognize the speaker—the very man who had forbidden him from seeking revenge on Soren:
Dean Armitage.
"But it seems he has no interest in Richard's ideology," the whiskey-holder frowned, voice worried. "If he goes back and tells that guy at the office what happened today…"
"How many swings of a sword could our current preparations withstand from that man?"
The moment that name was spoken, the entire room froze.
Armitage stared at Soren on the screen. "In a direct confrontation, everyone here combined wouldn't survive one slash."
"But who said we were going to provoke him?"
He continued, "As long as we're not stupid enough to forcibly open a Hell Gate inside Los Santos, that man won't interfere with internal human power struggles."
"Then why did we go through all this trouble today—even pushing Richard out as a probe…"
"Because we don't understand Soren's personality yet."
Armitage watched Soren's calm departure on screen. "If he were the kind of idiot who acts without thinking—like summoning a meteor the other day—"
"He might actually drag that man into the game, and our entire strategy would have to change."
He paused and pressed the remote.
The footage rewound and froze on two moments: Soren subtly observing the abnormal guests at dinner, and the glance he had given the hidden camera in the study.
"But as you can all see now, he not only noticed the defects in those test subjects, he also spotted the surveillance."
Armitage smiled. "Clearly, he's not an idiot—he's a smart, extremely suspicious man."
"Since he's already suspicious, he will definitely investigate those defective products and dig into the forces behind Richard."
The whiskey-holder seemed to catch on.
"Then let him investigate."
Armitage stood up, straightened his suit, eyes deep and unreadable. "The biggest weakness of smart people is that they trust their own judgment too much."
"Let him waste all his time on those dead-end investigations."
"By the time he peels back every layer and finally reaches us…"
"Our plan will already be complete."
"At that point, even if he uncovers everything, it will be too late."
...
Several hours later, the dinner party ended.
Richard stood at the estate gate with a fake smile, personally seeing off every guest.
Only after the last luxury car drove away did the smile vanish from his face.
The moment he remembered Soren's arrogant attitude—completely disregarding him—rage surged uncontrollably.
But the memory of that meteor also hit him like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing any thoughts of revenge.
Richard stormed back into the study, fury and humiliation twisting inside him. Everything he looked at pissed him off. He grabbed an expensive ornament from the desk and hurled it at the wall.
After venting, he suddenly realized the entire study had gone pitch black at some point.
"Where the hell is the butler? Why are the lights off?!"
Richard cursed, but no one answered.
"Mr. Richard, there's no need to be so agitated."
A cold voice suddenly rang out from the darkness.
"Who?!"
Richard's hair stood on end. He frantically slapped the light switch on the wall.
The lights came on. In the corner of the study, a mass of flowing black shadow coalesced into a vague humanoid shape.
"Demon?!"
Richard stared at the shadow while slowly reaching toward the desk drawer, quietly pressing the alarm button.
Instantly, sirens blared across the entire estate.
His face stiffened. He cursed inwardly: Damn it, whose cheap piece of junk security system is this?!
Wasn't this basically forcing the intruder to go all-out?!
Still, Richard kept his cool and tried to stall.
"Whatever you want…"
The shadow cut him off directly. "Actually, I'm quite interested in that 'evolution' talk you had earlier."
"Before the police arrive, we still have some time. Let's enjoy ourselves."
"It's you?! Soren—"
Richard's pupils shrank. He instinctively reached for the gun in the drawer.
But the next instant he was already lifted off the ground by an ice-cold hand, the last word never leaving his throat.
A few minutes later.
Soren stood in the wrecked study, looking down at Richard whose four limbs had been shattered.
Those few minutes had felt like years to Richard. The pain from his broken arms and legs nearly made the pampered millionaire faint.
The sirens were still screaming, yet no security footsteps or door-breaking sounds came from outside.
His mental defenses finally collapsed.
Just as the dying Richard opened his mouth to spit out a name—
His head suddenly swelled like a balloon being inflated.
Soren sensed the demonic power erupting inside the man and his expression changed.
He turned into a blur, smashed through the window, and fled the study.
BOOM!
The sound of exploding flesh echoed behind him. Corrosive blood sprayed everywhere, eating through the entire room.
Night wind howled.
Soren's figure reappeared on a road outside the estate.
He looked at the police cars already surrounding the manor and his face darkened.
"I got careless."