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Thanks to the tunnel formed by the roots, Apex Ace and Doctor Druid reached the third underground basement floor in mere seconds—completely unnoticed.

According to Dame Wasp’s research, the holding cells started from this level. The lower the floor, the higher the tier of the cursed criminals. But Beyton was no ordinary detainee—he was a distinguished bureau agent. Out of professional courtesy, he hadn’t been locked away on the eighth underground floor with the other Sky-tier prisoners. Instead, he was placed here, among the Mortal-tier detainees.

“Morph into Elinor,” Ace ordered Doctor Druid.

If they were going to step onto the third floor without getting shot on sight, they needed a cover. Even though Elinor was currently suspended, she was still a McSuile. That name had to count for something.

Without hesitation, Doctor Druid shifted into Elinor’s form. Ace gave a quick nod, then gestured for her to clear the way to the emergency stairwell’s door.

The moment Elinor(DD) stepped inside, a stern voice rang out, “McSuile Cub? What are you doing here? This old man nearly blew your head off.”

Ace followed her in, his eyes immediately locking onto the source of the voice—an older gentleman, dressed in white pajamas, sitting on a stool in the middle of the lobby. He was gripping a fancy walking stick with both of his hands, but Ace knew better than to assume he was just some frail old man.

Scattered around him were curse tools and shattered curse cores. A quick glance told Ace everything he needed to know—this man had single-handedly slaughtered every cultist who had attempted to break into the third-floor holding cells.

Noticing the old gentleman’s sharp gaze locked onto Apex Ace, Elinor (DD) quickly spoke up, explaining their purpose on the 3rd underground floor, “We came after learning that the Samsara Cult is here to help Sir Beyton escape.”

The old man’s expression didn’t change. “We?” he repeated, his tone skeptical.

His eyes never left Ace, scrutinizing the man clad in full-body armor made from some kind of plant material. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the information Elinor (DD) had just shared—either he had already figured it out, or he simply didn’t trust them.

Ace didn’t waste time and informed with a direct and calm tone, “Sir, we need to check Beyton’s holding cell. If he’s still there, we’ll try to convince him to get his men to surrender.” More like asking the old gentleman’s permission to access the 3rd underground’s holding cells.

Dame Wasp had combed through every file in the C.I.B. database she had access to, yet there was nothing on this old man. The only way they concluded he wasn’t a cultist was that he did not attack Elinor(DD) on sight.

However, having no information on the old gentleman meant he could not use words to get out of this one as he did with Lilith’s case. Also, he had no intention of using force—doing so would be asking for death. According to Dame Wasp, his curse energy signals, though subtle, were too strong to be of Sky-Tier. Therefore, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume he was Void-tier. What was odd, however, was why he was in his pajamas. Did he perhaps sleep here?

“What do you think?” The old gentleman asked, shifting his gaze and glancing at the scattered curse tools and shattered cores littering the floor. Without saying a word, his message was clear: If you think you can pass, go ahead and try. Your fate will be no different from the owners of the curse tools and cores scattered on the floor.

“We’ll wait,” Ace said simply, taking the hint. Then he walked over to the wall far from the stairs or elevators and leaned against it, arms crossed, deep in thought. Elinor (DD) silently followed him. Soon, a graveyard silence filled the lobby.

If it wasn’t clear already, they were the old gentleman’s prisoners. He couldn’t leave nor check on Beyton, and most importantly, he had to stay in sight of the old gentleman if he wanted to stay alive.

Thanks to the Mutated Rust Worms, trust was no longer a luxury C.I.B. agents could afford. The old man’s suspicion wasn’t just understandable—it was necessary. But the real question was—why wasn’t he suspicious of Elinor (DD)? Did the McSuile have some kind of protection against possession or similar abilities?

’Where the fuck are the high-tier cultists?’ Ace mentally cursed, frustration bubbling inside him.

Dame Wasp had just confirmed that among the curse tools scattered on the floor, only two were Sky-tier. The rest were low-tier.

That didn’t mean he could afford to underestimate the old man’s strength. But it did suggest that the cult had likely concentrated its real forces on the lower floors, assuming Beyton was being held there due to his high tier. The attackers who had stormed this level were probably just a distraction—sent to free the lower-tier criminals and spread the C.I.B.’s limited personnel thin.

However, all hope was not lost for Ace. He had chosen his spot carefully, leaning against this particular wall because its shadow stretched into the holding cell area.

All he needed was a single second—a moment of distraction—to slip past the old man’s perception and into the restricted area.

Right now, he was waiting, hoping that the next person to enter this floor would be a cultist strong enough to keep the old man busy for a few seconds. Because if the situation wrapped up peacefully before that happened, he was screwed. It wasn’t just game over for him, but all his secrets would be out in the open.

The silence stretched between them until the old gentleman suddenly spoke, “Either of you got a smoke I can borrow?”

“No,” Elinor (DD) answered flatly while Ace just shook his head.

The old man sighed, clearly disappointed, but before the room could sink back into eerie silence, the floors and walls trembled violently. Too strong to be an earthquake.

Ace’s first instinct was to worry about the building collapsing, but before he could even process that thought, the old gentleman let out a long, weary sigh as he pushed himself to his feet.

Then, extending a hand toward Ace, he said, “You’re coming with me.”

Before Ace could react, an invisible force yanked him forward, pulling him straight into the old gentleman’s grasp.

Turning to Elinor (DD), the old man gave a firm command, “McSuile Cub, guard this floor with your life.”

Elinor (DD) remained still as the old gentleman vanished, taking her master with him. She didn’t react—there was no need. Instead, she turned on her heel and made her way toward the elevators and emergency stairs.

She accessed them one by one, planting her engineered seeds deep within the mud. Thick, strong roots immediately took hold, reinforcing the blockages and ensuring no one could disturb her while she carried out her master’s orders.

[—Status Screen—

Ace: Don’t worry, I can handle myself. You complete the mission. If I’m not within a mile radius, head home.]

With the entrances sealed, Doctor Druid stepped into the holding cell area. She didn’t need to search—Beyton was right there in the first row of cells. The entire row was empty except for his cell as these were temporary holding cells, designed for curse criminals awaiting trial soon or immediate transfer.

Beyton was sitting inside a 4x5ft glass cell whose walls were covered in what looked like engraved golden occult circles. However, the cell was actually a curse array formation. The C.I.B. didn’t cut corners when it came to security. These cells weren’t just sturdy cages; the array formations on them completely severed a curse user’s connection to their curse core, rendering them no different from ordinary mortals.

Doctor Druid stepped forward, her gaze locking onto the small air circulation holes in the glass.

“Elinor? What are you doing here?” Beyton asked.

He barely had time to process the sight of her before her right hand revealed a green thorny vine bracelet coiling around her wrist.

A single thorn suddenly extended—firing like a bullet straight through one of the air holes, aimed directly at his forehead.

The thorn bullet hit, but it failed to pierce him instead, it bounced right off.

“Who the fuck are you?” Beyton demanded, eyes wide with shock. He had been waiting for cultists to break him out—instead, someone disguised as a McSuile had just tried to assassinate him.

Doctor Druid didn’t bother answering. She had already deduced the truth—Beyton had reinforced his body with curse energy. Even without access to his curse core, he was still bulletproof. So, without wasting any time, she materialized several small, round seeds in her palm and casually tossed them into the holding cell. These were the same seeds Dame Wasp had stealthily placed in the USB ports of the Congressman, the Mayor, and the Commissioner’s smartphones.

Beyton’s voice cracked as he yelled, “What the fuck are you trying to do?!”

Doctor Druid smirked, coldly answering, “Killing you, duh!”

Before he could react—BOOM! Every seed detonated at once, unleashing an explosion inside the cell.

Doctor Druid watched patiently as the smoke billowed, taking a moment to appreciate the strength of the glass. It did not have a single crack and completely contained the entire explosion. Once the smoke cleared, she peered inside—

Beyton was gone. In his place lay a Mutated Rust Worm, its body badly burned. Without a second thought, Doctor Druid fired a thorn bullet straight at it. The creature let out a piercing death cry before disintegrating into nothing, leaving behind only a curse core. Her job here was done.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep