Chapter 375: A Perfect Ecosystem Of Death

Time flies by so quickly; it’s hard to believe a whole week has gone by.

In that week, Chao remained in power.

Throughout Panterra, city skylines faded into the haze of smoke and static.

The once-vibrant holographic billboards that advertised fashion, technology, and luxury now blared urgent emergency messages.

News anchors, looking exhausted and pale, covered chaotic scenes: crowds overwhelming pharmacies, military convoys firing warning shots into the sky, and hospitals overwhelmed with bodies wrapped in cold polymer sheets.

In one gripping broadcast, a reporter’s voice trembled as she shouted over the noise of a riot.

“Authorities have confirmed over two million dead in Verdania… I repeat, two million…”

Her microphone cut out abruptly, and the screen flickered ominously before falling into silence.

Another broadcast showed a devastated market, shelves stripped of goods, and glass shards littering the ground like ice.

In the background, a man yelled at the soldiers blocking access to a metro station: “They said it was airborne! We’re already dead!”

With each broadcast, the world seemed to crumble further.

—

However, inside the Dominion Sanctum, there was an eerie calm. Sunlight poured through glass skylights onto the polished marble floors, while guards moved with mechanical precision and drones silently navigated the corridors.

Arthur sat in his study, surrounded by a multitude of holographic screens. Hundreds of translucent panels floated around him, cycling through news feeds, heat maps, casualty figures, and trade indices; the air buzzed with data.

Evolon’s holographic presence stood at the center of the room like a ghostly watchman, flickering softly in shades of blue.

Its voice was measured and clinical as it shared the grim updates: “Patriarch. As of 0700 hours, sixty-three national governments have declared states of emergency; fourteen have completely collapsed, including Kireth, Orsalis, Valtera, and the Myrda Republic.”

With a gesture, Evolon displayed new projections, economic charts plummeting like blood from an open wound.

“The global death toll stands at 10.6 million confirmed cases,” it continued in an unflinching tone. “Estimates suggest this could rise to 28 million by the end of the month. The virus has spread to 148 countries; only isolated islands and military bunkers remain untouched.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, resting his fingers against his chin as he took in the information.

His reflection glimmered faintly on the glass table as he whispered to himself: “Ten million… and this is just the start.”

Evolon proceeded without missing a beat: “Civil unrest is growing in Verdania, Tethra, and Eonvale sectors; local economies are in paralysis, and food supply chains are struggling.”

With another wave of its hand, Evolon displayed visuals of streets engulfed in flames, rioters ransacking stores, and soldiers abandoning their posts in desperate skirmishes over ration supplies.

Children cried behind gas masks.

Hospitals lay empty, with bodies piled in the hallways.

Cities that were once vibrant now felt deserted, silent, and cloaked in gray fog.

Arthur gazed at the devastation with a barely audible voice. “This is humanity laid bare. When fear replaces reason, they turn on one another.”

He slowly sipped from his glass of red wine, his tone measured yet contemplative. “Fear is the ultimate contagion… it spreads faster than any virus.”

Despite the dire news, Evolon’s tone remained steady, though its glow faded slightly as it delivered more grim updates.

“Patriarch, media coverage is shifting: major networks are pointing fingers at bio-terrorist groups. Religious groups across ten nations claim this crisis is divine retribution. At the same time, pharmaceutical stocks are surging; demand for antidotes has soared by five hundred percent.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed with resolve. “Show me who’s profiting from this.”

New images flickered to life, showcasing corporate logos and stock tickers alongside boardrooms full of executives speaking behind closed doors.

Evolon lowered its voice, speaking in a hush as if sharing a secret. “There are clandestine pharmaceutical cartels that have started production on ’temporary vaccines.’ Chemical tests reveal these only offer brief immunity—at most, forty-eight hours—and the price has skyrocketed to a staggering one hundred thousand unicreds per dose.”

Arthur tightened his jaw, frustration evident in his demeanor. “Making a profit off the dead? Typical.”

Evolon showcased a rotating hologram that highlighted ten corporate logos, each emanating a faint golden glow.

“On top of that, the ten biggest pharmaceutical companies are also developing their own cures. These include Aetheris Medical Holdings, NexGen BioSolutions, Pandora Health Systems, BioVertex International, Eclipse Therapeutics, SynthLife Industries, VitaForge Labs, NovaMedica, Obelisk Biotech, and Helix Dominion Group.”

Arthur’s expression darkened slightly as he heard those familiar names.

Unfazed, Evolon continued, “All ten have ramped up production immediately; our monitoring has picked up internal messages discussing Project G-47, a coordinated move to distribute ’partial immunity serums.’ Their aim? To ease public panic while raking in profits.”

The room buzzed with boardroom feeds, men in crisp suits overlapping each other’s words in a chilling chorus:

“…push the cure announcement back another week; fear will drive up demand.”

“…short-term doses are worth a fortune.”

“…whoever controls the cure controls the economy.”

Arthur listened in silence, the cold glimmer in his eyes sharper than ever.

“They never change,” he murmured, bitterness coating his words like a bitter balm. “When the world is in agony, they peddle their band-aids.”

Taking a slow sip of wine, he watched his reflection ripple in the deep red liquid.

“Evolon,” he said, breaking the silence, “cross-reference these companies with our historical conflict database.”

A soft whirring filled the air as Evolon’s processors worked. “Cross-referencing… match found. All of them previously clashed with Osborn Pharmaceutical over the AMHP-9 and the VitaCore Emerald.”

A shadow of a smile danced on Arthur’s lips, though it lacked warmth. “Yes, I remember it clearly. When we launched the Emerald Rebirth Pod, they unleashed a torrent of lawsuits, propaganda, and scandal to try to bury us.”

Images flickered to life on the projection: old headlines blaring accusations.

“Emerald Formula Tied to Genetic Manipulation.”

“Osborn Biotech Faces Backlash.”

Then came Arthur’s counteroffensive—a montage of footage revealing their illegal trials.

He let out a sharp breath through his nose. “They nearly wiped us out back then. I spared them because the family was still vulnerable; I feared their potential for destruction. But now…”

He surveyed the data-rich walls, the extensive network at his command. “Now, that fear has dissipated.”

Leaning forward, intensity sharpening his voice, he announced, “The landscape has shifted.”

Evolon shifted the projection again, revealing encrypted networks that linked the corporations. “Analysis indicates collaboration among these companies via an unregistered dark communication hub. Encryption patterns match those associated with VULTURE.”

Arthur’s expression turned steely. “So they’re working together.”

“Probability: 92.7%,” Evolon replied with clinical detachment. “We have evidence suggesting VULTURE provided strains of the GENEBANE virus while these companies are cashing in by distributing diluted cures for temporary immunity, all while exploiting this crisis for profit.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Arthur’s face, quickly replaced by grim understanding.

“So VULTURE produces the disease… and these corporate giants profit from the cure? It’s a perfect cycle of death.”

He stood tall, stepping into the center of the swirling holograms that encircled him like ghosts.

His voice dropped to a heavy whisper, each word resonating with weight.

“Evolon, can you show me the health crises that have occurred over the last two centuries? I’m interested in the pandemics, the treatments that emerged, and who was behind them.”

As he spoke, the screens around him shifted, revealing historical timelines filled with black plagues, fever outbreaks, and viral mutations,all disasters connected to a handful of the same ten corporations.

Evolon adopted a more analytical tone. “In the 19th century, Aetheris Medical Holdings was quick to patent a cure for Red Marrow Fever just days after it emerged. Then in the 20th century, BioVertex and NexGen made significant profits from the Chromia Epidemic by releasing vaccines weeks before the disease was even identified publicly. Each of these cases indicates they had advanced knowledge of infection data before these outbreaks occurred.”

Arthur’s expression hardened as he contemplated what Evolon had revealed. “So, they weren’t just responding to these pandemics; they were actually preparing for them?”

“Exactly,” Evolon affirmed, its voice steady. “Historical data uncovers a troubling pattern: every century brings a major outbreak, and each time, these corporations reap huge financial rewards. Throughout these events, records suggest covert transactions linked to a single enigmatic account: VULTURE-001.”

Arthur fell silent for a moment, processing this unsettling information.

His reflection danced across the ten holographic panels surrounding him, his face unreadable.

“Then it’s true,” he finally spoke, his voice low and measured. “They’ve been orchestrating these crises for centuries, engineering extinction for their own profit.”

Evolon’s lights pulsed gently. “And it’s not solely about profit, Patriarch. The VULTURE archives contain data on population control. Reducing global density allows them to monopolize resources over time.”

Arthur’s eyes widened in realization as he lifted his gaze sharply. “That means there’s someone even more powerful pulling the strings, deciding who gets to live and who doesn’t.”

“Possibility: 68%. A correlation has been identified with the existence of the Eleven Families,” Evolon replied with a matter-of-fact tone.

A cold shiver ran down Arthur’s spine at the mention of the Eleven Families; they had been manipulating events in Panterra from the shadows.

He murmured softly to himself, “So the true illness isn’t just the virus; it’s them.”

Evolon’s voice hummed quietly in the background. “What are your orders, Patriarch?”

Turning to the window, Arthur looked out at the serene golden sky above Dominion Sanctum, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging below.

His tone was calm but laced with determination. “Begin full-scale surveillance on every corporate division linked to those ten names. I want all data reported to me; I need to see everything they’re moving.”

“Understood,” Evolon responded immediately.

Arthur took one last look at the chaotic scenes projected on the multiple screens: cities aflame, distressed faces, and a world on the brink of collapse. He whispered softly, “The world thinks it’s fighting a virus… They have no idea they’re up against gods.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep