BIOLOGICAL SUPERCOMPUTER SYSTEM - Chapter 894: What if...

The conversation with his father continued for a while. Erik had a lot of things to think about and digest when it ended.

The Silverline Corporation, the same company he found the remnants of here in Liberty Watch, had made the biological supercomputer, but most of all, it spread the sinister cold.

This ugly disease didn’t immediately make people get brain crystals; it took some time, and before that moment arrived, many people died.

The Sinister Cold was a ruthless virus. <

Well, based on what dad said, I’m not sure anymore if it is a virus. >

Regardless, the effects of this man-made thing were devastating. This was not a disease but a weapon of mass destruction, unleashed not by nature but by human hands in a lab, tearing through the fabric of society like a scythe through ripe grain.

The Sinister Cold had not discriminated; it claimed millions, from the young to the old, and transformed bustling metropolises into ghost towns.

Its symptoms were merciless. Erik recalled the harrowing accounts he’d read-people succumbing to irreversible organ failure, their bodies shutting down without warning.

Others slipped into comas, leaving them trapped in an endless void. The unpredictability of the disease made it all the more terrifying; no one knew who would fall victim next.

Communities shattered, families torn apart. The world was on its knees, grappling with loss and the fear of what the next day might bring.

All of that for what? To wield mana? But why? The presence of thaids didn’t justify those studies because, back then, thaids were not like they are today.

They were neither powerful nor harrowing. Suddenly, his mind was flooded with a thought that rapidly spread throughout.

<What if…? No. It can’t be like that, right? I refuse to believe that. >

It was likely that the Silverline Corporation was responsible not only for having created and spread the sinister cold, but even…

<Even thaids. >

Erik never imagined himself learning all of this. These were secrets no one knew; maybe only the blackguards did.

<But if this is true, why didn’t they say anything? > Talking about the Silverline Corporation and its role in the sinister cold wouldn’t have made a difference.

Only the Blackguards and a select few were able to travel to Mur. If the Blackguards’ real goal was to get the biological supercomputer, even telling the truth about the Silverline Corporation wouldn’t have made a difference.

<I’m missing something. >

No matter how much he considered it, nothing changed. The Blackguards’ actions made no sense other than one thing: they had something to hide.

Were they connected to the individuals responsible for creating both the Biological Supercomputer and the Sinister Cold? Was their intention solely to gain access to their research in order to prevent governments from attempting similar actions?

<Now, I have another reason to get on the Mur continent. >

The first was a goal that was obvious and immediate: to destroy the Blackguards, those mysterious figures who had orchestrated events from the background and inflicted immense agony for years.

His second goal was to unravel the secrets of the world that had captured him since he got the Biological Supercomputer, which was more thoughtful but no less important.

Even if it was a powerful tool, this device had also been a lighthouse, pulling him farther into a web of intrigue and danger. Putting a target on him.

…

—

Erik left the room as his father fell asleep; he had been there enough, and now that he was back, he needed to talk to Noah and see what happened back in Fasard.

Erik left the hospital, walking down the white hallways. As he passed out the door, the image of his sleeping father stayed in his thoughts.

The Liberty Watch was hauntingly empty, although it was typically bustling with the activities of members of Erik’s guild and other residents.

The lively pathways were empty as he went to Noah. In Fasard, people likely died.

That was a problem for many reasons, and although he was unable to change their destiny while he was gone, he could stop losses in the future.

Making more clones was now a necessity, not just to replenish their ranks, but to strengthen their forces.

He doubted his personal war against the Blackguards was going to end soon. The headquarters loomed ahead.

As Erik entered, the sound of his boots echoing off the floor broke the silence.

Scattered about the hallway were a couple of his soldiers and many clones, their faces displaying signs of exhaustion from arduous, depressing work hours.

As he went by, they gave him a sad nod, and one of the clones moved forward to give him an update.

“Master, Noah is in the strategy room,” the clone said. Despite being weaker and not as smart as him, Noah had a higher rank. He was the first clone, after all.

Erik nodded and proceeded deeper into the headquarters. Finally, he arrived at the strategy

room.

Pushing open the slightly ajar door, he found Noah seated at a large table, covered in digital screens that displayed various logistical data and maps.

Noah looked up as Erik entered. The first clone had an alien appearance that many found unsettling.

Yet Erik saw past the exterior to the intelligence and emotion that mirrored his own.

Noah’s eyes were filled with sorrow today, a reflection of the loss of many brothers.

“Master,” Noah greeted, his voice steady despite the sadness.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Erik closed the door behind him and approached the table.

“I needed to see you. We need to talk about what happened in Fasard.” Noah caught Erik’s

eye; his worm-human features were uncharacteristically gloomy.

His usually serene countenance was frowning with sorrow, its foreign features casting shadows of worry.

“A lot happened,” he said. Erik could tell by the weight of his look and the severity of his words that this was bad news.

The look on Noah’s face alone was enough to prepare him for the worst.