Alex had just left the conference room, where he had spent a long and exhausting time talking with the reapers. Now that he was fulfilling the role of Death in this universe, he had to work tirelessly to keep the system of life and death functioning the way it was supposed to.

What pleasantly surprised Alex was how astonishingly responsible and meticulous the previous Death had been in carrying out his duties. That made the work much easier and spared Alex a great many problems. For that very reason, Alex limited himself to only minimal changes in the structure of the Library of Death, adjusting it to suit his own needs purely for the sake of convenience in managing the reapers.

While getting acquainted with his new subordinates, he paid special attention to one reaper in particular—a woman named Billie. In another timeline, she had been destined to become the next Death. But now—that would never happen.

Billie belonged to the kind of reapers who believed in the absoluteness of death: if someone died, they were meant to stay dead. That was why she could not stand the Winchester brothers, who kept returning from the other side again and again. What irritated her most was the fact that the previous boss turned a blind eye to their deaths and resurrections, and sometimes even directly facilitated them.

Alex understood Billie’s feelings perfectly.

But he also knew something she, as an ordinary reaper, could not see.

Dean and Sam were far too important to this universe.

If Chuck did not derive such sincere pleasure from watching their lives, reality itself would have long since been erased down to the last handful of cosmic dust, leaving behind nothing but emptiness.

However, Alex saw no reason to explain all of this to rank-and-file reapers. Their job was simple—to escort the souls of the dead to the other side. No more, no less.

After a long, formal introduction of himself as the new Death, Alex returned to his desk.

Sinking into a comfortable black chair, he stretched slightly and paused in thought for a moment. Instantly, a massive, thick black book appeared in front of him. On its cover, a name was embossed in gold letters: Amara.

With a faint smile, Alex opened her Book of Life. He knew that no one but him had the right to read what was written inside. Even Chuck, as the avatar of Darkness and Light, was deprived of that privilege.

He calmly flipped through the pages, nodding as he read about Amara’s fate from the very beginning. Everything turned out exactly as he had expected.

Not wanting to look too far ahead and spoil the experience for himself, Alex closed the book after just a few pages. It vanished from the desk at once.

Lifting his gaze, he saw Billie standing in front of him.

“How can I help you, Billie?” Alex asked with a slight smile, lighting a cigarette.

“Sir… I wanted to ask… about the situation with the Winchesters…” Billie said carefully. She did not yet know the temperament of the new boss and chose her words with great caution.

“Listen, Billie. Dean and Sam have a far more significant destiny than you can see. I understand your dedication to the job. But there are things that are not available to you yet,” Alex said calmly, exhaling smoke. “They’re like a small support under a table. Remove it—and everything collapses. So just do your job. All right?”

“Sir… are the Winchesters really that important?” Billie asked in the same cautious tone.

“Come on. Let’s take a walk and talk,” Alex replied, standing up from the desk.

Billie nodded and followed him.

Alex walked between the rows of shelves in the Library of Death, holding a cigarette between his fingers. Billie followed behind, not trying to guess what was going on in his head. The previous Death had been the same—calm, composed, speaking softly and with quiet confidence.

They stopped in a place where there were no more shelves of books. In front of them was only a smooth gray wall and a single black door in its very center.

Billie frowned. This was a place no one talked about. A place reapers were never brought to.

“Billie, where do you think we are?” Alex asked, turning toward her.

“At a door…” she answered uncertainly.

“No, Billie. This is the end. Every story has an end. And this is the place where a story ends. When the last of the living dies, I will flip all the chairs onto the tables, turn off the lights, and leave through that door, closing the universe behind me.”

Alex paused.

“But the beauty of life isn’t in that. After some time, someone else will come. They will open the doors, turn on the lights, and put the chairs back down. A new story will appear in this library, giving birth to other stories. And I will sit at the far end of the hall, watching every story of life… until the end comes again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, sir…” Billie swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good. Then just do your job, like everyone else. The better you work, the fewer worries I have. Dean and Sam’s story is still ongoing. And its end has not come yet.”

Alex walked past Billie, pausing for a moment to light another cigarette.

“Oh, and one more thing. I’ll leave my clone here. If any questions come up, or if you need me, talk to him. I have other work to do for now.”

Reaper Billie could only nod silently, realizing that her new boss was no different from the old one.

Returning to his desk, Alex created a clone. The double that appeared was dressed entirely in black: a strict suit, white shirt, black tie. His face was calm, devoid of emotion.

Alex pointed first at the desk, then at the clone, making it clear that he was now in charge of the work. The clone nodded without unnecessary questions, sat down at the desk—and a long list of names immediately appeared in front of him.

Satisfied that the clone had begun working, Alex smiled faintly and closed his eyes, returning his consciousness back.

When he came to in the Impala, the first thing he felt was persistent shaking.

Alex opened his eyes, blinked, and turned his head. Enid was waking him up, exactly as he had asked—already on the approach to New York.

“Oh, you finally woke up. We’re almost in New York already,” Dean said with a grin.

“What did I miss?” Alex asked, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.

“Aside from listening to your mumbling about reaper propaganda, flipped chairs, and shutting down the universe—nothing unusual,” Wednesday said without looking up from her book.

“Oof, that’s embarrassing. And how long was I out?” Alex said, coughing lightly.

“A little over five hours. We’re almost in New York. I haven’t been there in a long time… Maybe we can stop somewhere else too?” Enid asked with a cheerful smile, tugging on Alex’s shoulder with a pleading look.

“I’d rather eat first. All I’ve had today is a gas station hot dog and some pretty terrible coffee,” Dean said, glancing at Enid through the rearview mirror.

Alex didn’t object to the idea of grabbing something to eat after they arrived. He looked at Wednesday, silently asking if she was hungry. She calmly lifted her gaze to him, nodded, and went back to reading.

Realizing everyone was in agreement, Alex took out his phone and texted Jesse, warning her that they would be stopping by the Oldest House soon for a conversation.

Jesse, of course, showed interest, but after seeing the message that the conversation would be a long one, she replied that she would be waiting. After all, she was almost always in the Oldest House and rarely left it.

After receiving a reply, Alex started looking for a suitable place to grab a bite. After a few suggestions, Dean and Enid unanimously chose pizza. Wednesday abstained from voting—she simply didn’t see the point.

Alex didn’t care, as long as the food was good and there was coffee.

He entered the pizzeria’s address into his phone and placed it on the dashboard stand so Dean could see the route. Avoiding the usual New York traffic, Dean parked the Impala not far from their destination.

Soon, they were seated in the pizzeria, waiting for their order. Alex returned to the table with drinks, placed them down, and sat between Wednesday and Enid.

“So, what’s the deal with the Nazi vampires?” Dean asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“In short—remnants of Millennium. Those idiots are obsessed with war. By the order of one ‘artist,’ the Millennium project was created, conducting experiments to turn humans into vampires,” Alex said, tapping a finger on the table. “Everyone thinks they’ve been dead for a long time. But…”

“Since you’re Death, that means you know,” Wednesday said without looking up from her book.

“Exactly. Skipping the boring part, Millennium still exists. They’re obsessed with war and a beautiful death, and their leader—a moron nicknamed Major—is fixated on killing an immortal monster,” Alex said, sipping his coffee.

“So it all comes down to another batch of Nazi idiots stirring trouble?” Dean clarified, nodding.

“You could put it that way,” Alex replied calmly.

When the pizza arrived, Alex began explaining what was already happening in Britain, rather than what might happen in the future, including a possible war. He knew perfectly well that Dean didn’t need to know more than necessary for now.

Dean listened attentively, eating his pizza and occasionally asking questions. Alex explained about the two organizations waging a silent war against each other and that the British branch of the Men of Letters had shards of Amara’s power.

Hearing this, Dean clenched his fist.

Alex immediately reassured him, explaining that they had other priorities for now. Using his position as Death, he added that no global catastrophes were expected in the near future.

When Alex explained what the British intended to do with Amara’s power, Dean and Enid’s faces visibly changed—the shock was obvious.

“Wait… you’re telling me the British nerds are planning to take down Dracula himself? This isn’t a legend?” Dean asked incredulously. “Sam and I hunted an Alpha vampire, but Dracula—that’s something new.”

“The thing is, an Alpha vampire can be killed with a Colt, but Alucard cannot,” Alex replied calmly. “Anyway, don’t worry. We’re not going to Britain yet.”

Dean squinted at Alex, but Alex simply pointed to a far more pressing problem—the need to find a way to stop the enraged sister of God, who only showed compassion toward him.

There was nothing to argue about, and Dean nodded silently.

The conversation continued over pizza. At one point, Alex ordered another pizza—to take with them for Jesse. Only after that did they leave the pizzeria.

Back in the Impala, they headed to 33 Thomas Street—the location of the Oldest House.

As they approached, Alex’s clothes shifted into a sharp black suit with a black shirt and a red tie. Then he touched Dean’s shoulder—and Dean was also clad in a neat agent’s suit.

Dean shot Alex a dry look.

“We’re going to work, not a street diner,” Alex explained calmly.

Dean just nodded.

Alex looked at Enid and Wednesday and decided they didn’t need to change.

Reaching the street they needed, Dean parked the Impala, and all four stepped out of the car. To enter the Oldest House, all they had to do was cross the street, but the group stopped and raised their heads, taking in the building.

The Oldest House was a tall, rectangular monolith—strict, unadorned, with vertical proportions emphasizing its height. There were no windows on the facade—only a few ventilation shafts.

Using his magical sight, Alex saw the building itself warp and vibrate, as if it didn’t fully belong to this world. Looking higher, he involuntarily whistled.

Directly above the Oldest House floated an inverted black pyramid, point down.

This was the Council—the original owners of the Oldest House and those who appoint its directors. Throughout the Bureau of Control’s history, there had only been three, and the third was Jesse Feyden.

“What did you see up there?” Dean asked, turning to Alex.

“The Council. An upside-down black pyramid right above the building,” Alex replied, lowering his gaze.

“They live in that pyramid?” Enid asked, holding Alex’s hand.

“No. That pyramid is the Council,” Alex said calmly. “It’s a group of extremely powerful para-natural entities. They cannot exist in our dimension without a physical form, so they interact only with the Director, whom they appoint through a ritual.”

“What ritual?” Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what happens to those who don’t pass it?”

“Those who pass the ritual become the Director,” Alex answered. “Those who don’t… get a bullet to the head.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“The trials are assigned by the Council. But in return, you get a gun that can change shape and harness the powers of anomalous objects—flight, telekinesis, and much more.”

“I see you’re acting all smart again,” Dean smirked. “Alright, let’s go visit another one of your girlfriends.”

“Jesse and I are just best friends,” Alex said dryly.

“Uh-huh. And I learned how to fly,” Dean said with obvious sarcasm.

Alex’s eye twitched slightly as he looked at Dean. For a fleeting moment, a serious thought crossed his mind—kick him hard enough to send him straight into the stratosphere. But the thought was abruptly interrupted by something sharp pressing into his side.

Turning his head, he saw Wednesday. She had a completely cold expression and was pressing a knife against his ribs. Sighing, Alex calmly took Wednesday’s hand. Meanwhile, Enid smiled widely…but her claws elongated, digging into Alex’s skin.

Sighing again—this time deeper—Alex followed Dean, holding both girls by the hands.

Crossing the street, they reached the entrance to the Bureau of Control. The entry looked ridiculously ordinary: plain glass doors, the kind you’d see on any office building. People passing by didn’t even notice it—everyone was long accustomed to the strange, nameless building in the city center that no one knew anything about.

Inside, they were greeted by a standard lobby. Behind the desk sat a female secretary. Everything around them was in the same gray tones as the building’s facade. Against the wall stood a single table, with large letters reading: FEDERAL BUREAU OF CONTROL.

To the right of the desk was a security booth, inside which were three guards. They immediately noticed the new visitors. The secretary raised an eyebrow slightly, quickly accessed the database—and upon seeing that they were field agents, she immediately smiled.

After the standard check and issuing guest badges for Wednesday and Enid, the group went up to the balcony on the second floor.

Three portraits hung there. One was of Jesse Feyden—after she had become Director of the Bureau. The second was of Ahti. The third belonged to a scientist, whose name was not signed. Alex, Dean, Wednesday, and Enid stopped to examine the portraits.

“Looks like your janitor buddy is a big deal here,” Dean said, nodding toward Ahti’s portrait.

“He was here even before the Bureau of Control decided to use the Oldest House as their headquarters,” Alex replied with a faint smile. “They tried to limit him, lock him up, control him… but nothing worked. In the end, they just pretended they didn’t know anything and let Ahti continue cleaning the building.”

“So, they couldn’t do anything to him and just left everything as it was?” Wednesday said, crossing her arms. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Because you have a living hand on your shoulder,” Dean smirked, “and your boyfriend is Death itself. Against that, an untouchable janitor doesn’t seem so strange.”

Wednesday shot Dean a short, icy glance and turned away, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation.

Alex just smirked and moved forward. He knew exactly what would come next. To access the inner dimensions of the Oldest House, everything had to be done correctly.

Alex led Dean, Wednesday, and Enid through the corridors, past office spaces where Bureau employees were working. As they walked by, he glanced around carefully, and suddenly an idea struck him… to steal the Oldest House entirely and bring it to Orario.

Imagining the faces of the people of Orario, clutching their hearts at the sight of a giant monolith suddenly appearing in the city, Alex couldn’t help but laugh.

Wednesday immediately became alert—she could tell from his laugh that Alex was plotting something. Enid, meanwhile, was genuinely puzzled at what could have amused him so much—they were just walking past some offices.

Even Dean looked at Alex with the expression of someone beginning to question his friend’s mental state.

Enid’s phone beeped. A message from Lucina appeared on the screen:

“Whatever Alex is planning—try to talk him out of it.”

After reading the message, Enid glanced at Alex and quickly replied:

“I’ll do my best. But I can’t promise anything.”

After making a full circuit through the office spaces, they returned to the same second-floor balcony with the portraits. Now, right in the center of the space, there was an elevator.

“Wait, stop,” Dean frowned, pointing at it. “We just made a full loop. And now there’s an elevator here. That’s… weird.”

“Were you not listening when I said the Oldest House is a building with its own rules?” Alex asked, glancing at Dean.

“I…,” Dean hesitated, frowning.

“So, do we have to take loops like this for every elevator?” Enid asked, surprised.

“No,” Alex replied calmly. “We’re only going to the Director’s office. We won’t touch the other sectors. Possibly.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully and added:

“And now… everyone into the elevator.”

Alex stepped into the elevator first. Dean, Wednesday, and Enid followed.

Alex pressed the single button on the panel, and the elevator doors began to close. At the same moment, a soft melody started playing inside, and it was completely impossible to tell which way the elevator was moving—up, down, or even sideways.

Alex swayed lightly to the music as if he were not in one of the strangest places on the planet, but in a cozy bar. Meanwhile, he talked about the structure of the Bureau of Control.

He mentioned the containment departments, including prison sectors where especially dangerous anomalous objects were kept—including objects of power potentially lethal to humans. Then he spoke about the research department, where devices for anomaly control were developed, as well as specialized equipment for field agents.

Alex also briefly mentioned the investigation sector, which monitors global events and spikes in anomalous activity.

To everyone’s surprise, even Dean listened attentively—he usually preferred to skip such “boring” parts. Wednesday was clearly interested in the research department and the containment sector. Enid behaved as if she were on a museum tour: asking questions, looking around, and absorbing every detail with lively interest.

When the elevator finally stopped, Alex stepped out first and looked around. A long corridor stretched before them, ending with massive metal doors—the Director’s office. The guards in the observation room immediately reported the arrival of visitors and received a response almost instantly. Enid held Alex’s hand and cautiously glanced toward the guards, feeling their scrutinizing gaze.

“Director Feyden is expecting you, Agents Voldigoad and Winchester,” the secretary said without looking up from her screen.

Alex gave a brief nod and, without knocking, pushed the doors open.

The office was spacious. Bookshelves ran along the walls, interspersed with various antique items. At the end of the room stood a desk, where, logically, there should have been a window—but instead, a bright white light shone, slightly straining the eyes.

Behind the desk sat Jesse Feyden, fully immersed in her work.

She had become the Director of the Bureau almost against her will, going through a series of trials and solving the Oldest House’s main problem—the very one that had cost the previous Director their life.

Alex pulled a pizza box from his inventory and stepped closer. With a slight smile, he placed it directly on the desk in front of Jesse.

Caught by the smell of food, Jesse immediately looked away from her documents, set them aside, and opened the box. Meanwhile, Wednesday was examining the books on the shelves.

Enid inspected the antique items—seemingly ordinary pieces of decor—but she already had the strong sense that even in the Director’s office, nothing here was truly “ordinary.” Dean, without ceremony, sat down in the chair across from the desk.

Alex glanced briefly at the document Jesse had been reading earlier. It was related to Tyler—the same one who had recently been brought to the Bureau.

“Thanks for the pizza. With this mountain of documents, I haven’t had a single moment to breathe,” Jesse said matter-of-factly, taking a bite.

“Don’t mention it. We’re besties, after all,” Alex smirked.

“If we were best friends, you’d help me with the work,” Jesse replied calmly, “not be the reason it keeps piling up.”

“That’s not me. That’s all him,” Alex said, pointing at Dean.

“Screw that. Don’t blame me for everything,” Dean cut in immediately.

Jesse merely smirked, watching their exchange, then shifted her gaze to Wednesday and Enid. She raised an eyebrow, examining them carefully. Wednesday met her gaze calmly. Jesse gave a small smile, and Wednesday nodded in response. Enid, however, waved hesitantly, smiling shyly.

“So,” Jesse said, turning her attention back to Alex, “what did you manage to find out from that woman? I haven’t received a full report, considering you took Laurel Gates with you for questioning.”

“First, tell me—what’s the Bureau’s relationship with the Hellsing Order?” Alex asked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in the chair.

“Friendly, I guess,” Jesse replied thoughtfully. “I became Director relatively recently. Before me, it was Trench, and he handled all those contacts. I don’t know much about what specifically connected the Bureau and Hellsing. Why do you ask?”

“Because the British Men of Letters could start a war,” Dean interjected. “And they have fragments of the power of Darkness that they plan to use as weapons.”

“From this point—be more specific,” Jesse frowned, immediately understanding which “Men of Letters” he was talking about.

Alex explained in detail everything he had learned from Laurel, also describing the goals of the British branch of the Men of Letters.

Hearing this, Jesse frowned. The Bureau’s relationship with the Men of Letters was already strained, especially with the British branch.

But Alex didn’t stop there. He went on to talk about the Millennium organization—a group whose leader was pursuing the same goal as the Men of Letters, namely the destruction of Alucard.

After listening to Alex to the end, Jesse picked up her phone and quickly dialed a number, requesting archival data. A few seconds later, a secretary entered the office carrying a metal capsule. She silently placed it on the desk and immediately left.

Jesse opened the capsule. Inside was a thick folder of documents. Alex rose from his seat and stood behind Jesse, reviewing the materials with her. The folder contained detailed information about the Millennium organization.

Even though the Federal Bureau of Control had been founded after World War II, that hadn’t stopped it from collecting and systematizing all available data. The Third Reich had actively sought out altered items and Objects of Power, hoping to use them to secure victory.

In the postwar years, the Bureau had repeatedly discovered caches around the world where the Nazis had hidden such artifacts.

After finishing the reading, Jesse let out a heavy sigh and closed the folder.

“Where did you get this information?” she asked, turning her head toward Alex. “I’m certain Laurel Gates couldn’t have known about this organization.”

“Oh right, yeah,” Alex said in a carefree tone as he returned to his seat. “I haven’t told you yet. I’m Death now.”

“And I’m the Virgin Mary,” Jesse replied dryly, with open sarcasm.

“Nope, he really is Death,” Dean cut in, nodding toward Alex. “Scythe, dark cloak, the usual speeches about balance and all that crap. And now he’s even more annoying.”

Jesse froze for a second, then slowly exhaled.

“Alright. Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that,” she said in a calmer tone. “One more weird employee, one less—nothing really changes. I already have Ahti to deal with. And the fact that Death himself works for the Bureau now… fine. So be it.”

“Hey,” Alex frowned. “Stop using Polaris to calm your thoughts. Play fair. It’s not fair to use resonance to stabilize your mind.”

“Go to hell,” Jesse snapped, pointing at him. “Polaris is my friend. And she helps me.”

“Want to check whose kung fu is stronger, Jesse Faden?” Alex narrowed his eyes slightly. “Even if I weren’t Death, I’d still show you that my kung fu is stronger than yours.”

“I’ve always dreamed of beating up Death,” Jesse said, rising from behind the desk. “Get up. Let’s go talk. We’ll see who wins.”

Alex grinned, stood up, and followed her. Dean watched them with obvious confusion, unable to understand how a conversation about an impending war in Britain had suddenly turned into an invitation to fight.

Wednesday merely shook her head, carefully put the book back on the shelf, and went after them. Enid was the most bewildered of all—she had only looked away for a second, and now Alex and Jesse were already about to settle things by force.

Enid hurriedly pulled out her phone and wrote in the family chat, asking for advice on what she should do in a situation like this. The reply came almost instantly. All of Alex’s girls were unanimous: it was better to let Alex get into a fight than let him seriously try to steal the Oldest House.

Enid blinked, reread the message, and cautiously asked what exactly they meant. In response, an image immediately appeared in the chat—a massive orbital station floating near the Moon, with the caption: “The last thing our husband stole.”

Enid swallowed and went pale. Without thinking for another second, she ran after the others.

Jumping into the elevator, Enid felt her palms grow sweaty as she looked at Alex.

Sensing her tense gaze, Alex merely smiled softly and stroked her hair, completely unaware that the thought had already taken root in her mind—that he was planning to steal an entire building.

Jesse stood calmly in the elevator, arms crossed over her chest, as the cabin moved toward the desired floor. A moment later, the elevator stopped. They had arrived at the Research Sector—a spacious, reinforced area where one didn’t have to hold back their power.

“And where are we now?” Wednesday asked as she stepped out of the elevator.

“The Research Sector,” Jesse replied evenly. “There’s a testing range here. Objects of Power and anomalous items are tested there.”

“Wow…” Enid said in admiration, looking around. “It’s beautiful here. Especially that tall tree in the center.”

Jesse only smiled at the comment and led them onward.

When employees saw her, they greeted her respectfully. But the moment they noticed Alex, quiet whispers immediately began. Because of him, the Bureau had noticeably more work—and, surprisingly, most of the staff were actually happy about that.

The Research Sector was a vast, multi-level complex of laboratories, offices, and specialized zones dedicated to the study of the paranormal. The brutalist architecture of the Oldest House here blended with office and laboratory interiors: red carpets on the floors, glass partitions, metal panels, cold overhead lighting, and dense clusters of scientific equipment.

The department was divided into numerous sectors, each focused on its own line of research—from the analysis of altered items to the study of Objects of Power.

However, the central part of the Research Sector was truly mesmerizing.

Before them stretched a massive atrium, dozens of stories high. In the very center grew gigantic trees reaching all the way up to the ceiling. Along the perimeter were balconies overlooking the space below, and at the very bottom of the atrium was the cafeteria. Numerous staircases and walkways led to different sectors of the complex, creating the feeling of a living, constantly shifting space.

Alex and the others approached the railing and looked down.

“Jesse, where’s the Ashtray Maze? I’d like to take a look at that place,” Alex said, glancing around.

“I’ll show you later. For now, follow me, Death—so I can beat the crap out of you,” Jesse replied with a grin.

Alex just laughed and followed her.

Descending the stairs, Enid gently tugged Alex’s hand, curiously asking about the labyrinth he had mentioned. Even Dean couldn’t resist listening in. As he looked around, he realized he had made the right choice in coming to the Oldest House.

Every place he had visited before had usually felt eerie and oppressive. The Oldest House, however, exuded a completely different atmosphere—strange, majestic, and yet oddly inviting. Dean was already imagining how he would brag to Sam about the places he had been.

Wednesday also listened attentively as Alex spoke about the Ashtray Maze. Jesse, walking ahead of the group, occasionally added details, recounting what she had endured to make it out alive.

As they talked, they reached one of the research sectors. A group of scientists was conducting tests on another anomalous object. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary toaster.

However, upon closer inspection, it became clear that black burn marks streaked the white tiles around it, as if powerful electrical discharges constantly jumped through the air.

“Director, what brings you here?” one of the scientists asked, holding a tablet.

“We need a testing chamber. There’s something we need to check,” Jesse replied, pointing to the room where the toaster was currently being studied.

“One moment, Director. We’ll clear everything out,” the scientist answered with a nod.

While Jesse explained to the staff why she needed the room, Alex, Dean, Wednesday, and Enid approached a large observation window. They watched the toaster sitting in the center of the enormous white chamber.

Alex thoughtfully stroked his chin, examining perhaps the most dangerous toaster in the world. He smiled slightly, already considering whether to “borrow” it for pure amusement—just to mess with someone later.

“Dude… they’re testing a toaster. And what does it do? Turns bread into monsters?” Dean asked, pointing at the object.

“Or makes poisoned toast?” Enid suggested, squinting.

“This anomalous object generates electricity comparable to that produced by a small power plant,” the scientist said, evidently overhearing their conversation. “A single discharge reaches about 15 kilowatts.”

“And you want to use this toaster as a power source? Or are you testing its maximum output?” Alex asked, turning to the scientist.

“For now, we’re determining its limits,” he replied, adjusting his glasses. “The maximum recorded energy surge was 38.3 kilowatts. Currently, we’re trying to understand what serves as the catalyst for increasing its output.”

Alex nodded and looked again at the anomalous toaster being carried out of the room by two staff members. Both were fully clad in protective suits that did not conduct electricity.

Once the toaster disappeared behind the door, Jesse appeared. She was wearing a black tracksuit and was gathering her hair, tying it into a high ponytail on the go. Once finished, she looked at Alex, smiled, and gestured for him to follow her.

Alex returned the smile, removed his coat, and handed it to Wednesday.

Following Jesse, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Stepping into the testing chamber, Alex stopped in front of Jesse. She was already loosening up, stretching her shoulders and neck.

“So, not going to draw your weapon?” Jesse asked, lazily stretching.

“I’ll do just fine with my hands,” Alex replied, wrapping his red tie around his wrist.

“Typical man. Likes to use his hands,” Jesse smirked.

“Look who’s talking, redhead,” Alex grinned.

“Look, you’re asking for it. Don’t cry when you lose,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“That’s what I should say. When you lose, I’ll buy you ice cream. As consolation,” Alex said cheerfully, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Jesse narrowed her eyes even further and, in the same instant, drew the service weapon— the one only the Director was authorized to use.

The first shot rang out.

Alex instantly dodged, barely turning his torso. Grinning, he noticed a chunk of white wall hurtling toward him at incredible speed.

Reacting at the last moment, Alex leapt over the debris, pushed off it, and lunged toward Jesse. Twisting mid-air, he delivered a downward kick.

Jesse made a sharp backward move to dodge and immediately switched her weapon mode. In the next instant, a spray of shrapnel flew toward Alex.

Alex slammed into the floor, tearing a tile from it, and lifted it in front of him, blocking the shot. At the same moment, he struck forward, smashing the tile and sending a hail of stone shards toward Jesse.

Jesse used telekinesis to stop the flying debris. The stones froze midair and began to slowly orbit around her.

“Nice reaction,” Alex said, cracking his knuckles and taking a fighting stance.

“You too,” Jesse replied, immediately hurling the orbiting shrapnel toward him.

Alex leapt forward, twisting mid-air to dodge the debris. Pushing off the floor with his hands, he spun and launched himself feet-first.

Jesse dodged again, narrowly avoiding his strike. Alex slammed into a wall, which instantly cracked under the impact.

Grabbing a piece of white tile, Alex ripped it from the wall and hurled it at Jesse. When her line of sight was blocked, he jumped after it, landed on the flying tile, and kicked it downward with force.

Reacting in time, Jesse conjured a crystal spike that shot up from the ground and pierced the stone tile.

Dodging the crystal spike that shattered the tile beneath him, Alex performed a somersault and landed a few meters away from Jesse.

“Round three?” he asked, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

“Isn’t it four?” Jesse raised an eyebrow, changing her weapon mode again.

Alex just smirked, exhaling a stream of cigarette smoke. Jesse returned the smile, signaling he could attack at any moment.

Tossing the cigarette aside, Alex exhaled a cloud of white vapor. His body was lightly engulfed in flames.

The scientists observing the fight immediately began taking notes, recording every detail. After all, it wasn’t every day that one got to see their Director fighting one of the agents.

To be continued…

(As I said before, I could spend several chapters just describing everything related to the Oldest House, the Bureau, and much more. I’m not sure yet whether to dedicate the beginning of the next chapter to briefly describing the events surrounding the Oldest House, or simply ignore it and say, well, the Oldest House is cool, we need to steal it, and that’s it. Anyway, like I said, this will be a short stop before returning to the Bunker.)

Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep