Raven loaded his rifle with one hand, aimed at a distant target, and fired. After ten rounds, he lowered the gun, nodded, and said, "It works."
Ferdinand patted a machine gun next to him and said, "Try this one—an upgraded heavy machine gun. For you guys, who don't even need a tripod, the recoil is nothing."
Without a word, Raven hoisted the gun and sprinted to the nearby training grounds. Watching him, Norris's jaw dropped. "Wow! Even with the modifications, that heavy machine gun still weighs about 18 kilograms, but he makes it look effortless."
Ferdinand shrugged dismissively. "That's nothing. He's not even using ten percent of his strength. Sure, elite soldiers can shoulder a heavy machine gun, but not for long. For someone like him, it's like holding a stick—it's not even a challenge."
Norris asked curiously, "If he's this terrifying and only ranks sixth, just how strong is Master Unknown, who's number one?"
Recalling his first encounter with Arabella, Ferdinand chuckled and uttered, "Practically inhuman."
After testing the new gun, Ferdinand called Raven's men over to enjoy roasted whole lamb. A dozen lambs were roasted to perfection—crispy on the outside and tender inside, their aroma mouth-watering. The group of tough men feasted with oil dripping down their faces, fully content. Nowadays, Raven was followed by battle-hardened fighters. After Arabella was captured, Raven's reputation had soared. Over the years, he had always led the charge, and his men had grown completely loyal to him alone.
Inside, Ferdinand, Raven, and Norris shared a table. Ferdinand, with one leg propped on a chair, tore into a half-lamb with one hand while slicing it with a knife in the other, his actions wild and unrestrained.
Raven sat upright, calmly nibbling on a lamb bone with his usual indifferent demeanor. As always, he kept his emotions tightly guarded, except when he was in Arabella's presence.
Across from him, Norris looked on with admiration. "Mr. Raven, your live-fire shooting earlier was incredible. No wonder those men are so loyal to you."
Raven glanced at the grinning Norris and replied coldly, "They're Master Unknown's men."
Norris smiled innocently. "I know. Master Unknown trusts you the most. Now that you're doing so well, she'll definitely be pleased."
Raven didn't respond and instead turned to Ferdinand. With a smirk, Ferdinand grabbed a knife and opened a tin of syrup-soaked peach. He speared a slice and held it out toward Norris. "Here, it suits you."
Norris, seemingly oblivious to the double meaning, leaned forward and took the slice with his tongue, chewing happily. "So juicy and delicious. I bet Master Unknown would love this too. After all, people naturally prefer the fresh over the old, don't they?"
Raven and Ferdinand exchanged a glance, both finding the sight of the young wolves baring their teeth rather foolishly endearing.
Let alone them—this pack of prime-aged wolves—who had to fight their way just to stay by Arabella's side; what chance did these half-grown pups have? Arabella wasn't the kind of woman to choose between a fresh or aged man like she's picking a steak. Norris really doesn't understand the real Arabella at all.
Meanwhile, Taras's efficiency in Scalien was astounding. It wasn't long before the news of Arabella's capture in Scalien spread across the globe. Interpol was practically celebrating with drums and gongs. The "Tumor" operation had been secretly running for years, costing countless elite officers from police and military forces worldwide. Successfully apprehending Arabella was nothing short of monumental.
Marcellus was boiling with rage, itching to pull a gun and shoot Taras. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't act on it. Blade's international reputation was impeccable, and Taras held the moral high ground in this matter, while Marcellus's intentions were undeniably skewed. What he hadn't anticipated was how quickly Taras had seen through his thoughts. He hadn't even had the time to decide what to do with Arabella.
Should he imprison her? Kill her? Or finally confess the feelings he'd buried for years?
It wasn't until he received a pair of bloodied eyeballs—Ivy's—from AE that he finally had an excuse to confront Taras.
"You've provoked AE like this. Ivy's death is inevitable," Marcellus accused.
Taras stared at the iron box holding the extracted eyeballs, his expression stern. "I'd like to ask you, General Ackerley, what was your plan? Trade Arabella for her? Mobilize troops to crush AE? Declare war on Pujivang?"
Marcellus fell silent. Taras's words were sharp as needles, piercing straight through the truth. Of course, he wouldn't trade Arabella for Ivy; he was merely using the situation to pressure Taras.
"Arabella will be tried at the International Court. General Ackerley, you'd better control your emotions and prepare for her transfer," Taras said coldly.
"No." Marcellus instinctively refused, his heart skipping a beat as he quickly added, "She's gravely injured and unfit for transport."
Taras let out a cold laugh. "You must have forgotten, General Ackerley. The International Court doesn't require the accused to be present throughout the proceedings. The prosecution phase doesn't need her there. She only needs to appear at trial."
The International Court consisted of the most competent and impartial judges and prosecutors appointed by various countries. The Chief Judge and Chief Prosecutor rotated every three years, and all case personnel were randomly selected from international judicial systems at the time of case initiation. Even the jury was randomly drawn from different nations and social strata. Due to the unique nature of the International Court's cases, the jury typically consisted of thirty members, requiring a unanimous verdict.
Taras and Faceless Ghost worked tirelessly to compile and verify the evidence they had gathered during years of undercover operations near Arabella. Bramwell also contributed significantly, though much of his work conflicted with Taras's due to his past loyalties to Arabella. His contributions served mainly as supplementary evidence.
The three of them knew all too well that Raven was the one who held the most incriminating evidence against Arabella. Letting him escape back then had been far from wise.
"At the time, Raven had a miniature biochemical weapon. Did Arabella only make one?" Faceless Ghost asked, frowning.
Bramwell paused to recall before answering uncertainly, "Hard to say. Arabella had Norris design a portable biochemical weapon. I know it was successfully designed, but how many were made depends on Ferdinand's skill."
Taras thought for a moment before shaking his head. "The international restrictions on biochemical weapons are stringent. Even the raw materials are hard to acquire. No matter how skilled Ferdinand is, mass production would be impossible."
"It's a pity that the bio-weapon was taken away by Raven. If both she and the weapon were captured, just violating international military law by producing bio-weapons would be enough to have Arabella executed," Bramwell said, shaking his head in feigned regret.
Taras waved his hand, encouraging the international investigation team. "It's all right. Just the crimes she's committed over the years—murder, arson, arms and drug smuggling, involvement in insurgencies, organizing small armed revolts—any one of them is enough to get her executed a hundred times over. Our task now is to compile the evidence that each of us has gathered and submit it to the prosecutor at the International Court. If everything goes smoothly, we can move to the prosecution phase within ten days."
Faceless Ghost glanced at the other team members busy at work and lowered his voice. "As long as Arabella is in Scalien, I doubt Marcellus will let things rest so easily."
Bramwell scoffed. "It's not up to him anymore. The case is already with the International Court, and the whole world is watching. He can't just ignore his country's image and status, can he?"
"Still, we should be cautious. Marcellus may not be as rational as you think," Faceless Ghost replied.
Meanwhile, AE had just finished managing the final batch of drugs smuggled into Scalien and was brimming with confidence when Nicholas suddenly showed up.
AE frowned as he scrutinized Nicholas, whose eyes were dark and brooding, his face marked with an unhealthy, almost deranged expression. His breathing was heavy, clearly revealing his extreme emotional instability.
"Didn't we agree not to meet for a while? What are you doing here in such a rush?"
Nicholas's eyes were bloodshot, his face shadowed with anger, and his gaze filled with hatred as he hissed through clenched teeth, "We've all been played by Arabella."
AE looked puzzled and responded coldly, "What madness are you spouting again?"
"Do you even know that Arabella can take Cyrus's body entirely on her own?"
AE seemed baffled. "What's so surprising about that? With her skills, slipping into Scalien unnoticed is certainly possible. The issue isn't getting Cyrus's body—it's getting away with it. She can sneak in alone, but carrying a corpse out without being detected? That's not feasible. And the moment she makes a move, Marcellus will know. No matter how capable she is, she can't fight an entire nation. Everyone knows that. Otherwise, why would she need us to help apply pressure?"
"Pressure? Nonsense! From the beginning, we were never part of Arabella's plan. She doesn't need anyone. We're nothing but a smokescreen, a tool she's using to deal with Marcellus."
AE's expression turned serious, and a chilling tension filled the air. He understood all too well how much Nicholas cared about anything concerning Arabella—from murder to the most trivial matters. Nicholas prided himself on knowing Arabella better than anyone, fully confident that she would never abandon him. His current hysterical state made it clear that things had slipped out of his control.
"So you're saying she plans to take Cyrus's body and leave Scalien without relying on anyone else? A problem that was unsolvable back then—is suddenly solvable now, after all these years?"
"What if Cyrus's corpse and hers could leave Scalien together, buried with full legitimacy?" Nicholas suddenly let out a cold laugh, which grew louder and louder, though his face bore an unmistakable sadness.
"That's impossible! Someone like Arabella would never willingly go to her death!"
"Don't you know the International Court has already taken up Arabella's case? Once she's convicted, she'll be sentenced to death by firing squad immediately."
"That's why we need to act quickly. Only with internal and external chaos or even war in Scalien can Arabella create the opportunity to take Cyrus's corpse and escape amidst the turmoil. Isn't that her original plan?"
Nicholas's gaze was sharp and venomous, but his voice carried a soft edge laced with menace. "Arabella wants to discard me once I'm no longer useful? I'll make her understand that crossing me means no end until one of us is dead." Leaning toward AE, he spoke in a persuasive tone, "Do you know she's deliberately committed all those atrocities as a terrorist over the years? Don't you want to see her utterly fail?"
AE thought Nicholas had lost his mind—until Nicholas pulled out a stack of documents. As AE held them, his hands trembled slightly. The more he read, the more incredulous he became. It felt like a screw in his mind was being turned backward, digging in with an unsettling force. The fury and darkness of being used and discarded consumed him, driving him to the edge. He swore, "Arabella—you truly have some nerve. I'll play your game, and we'll see who comes out on top."
