The television buzzed with breaking news, the red banner at the bottom of the screen fshing urgent updates.

  Footage of the Musabori compound—obliterated, reduced to a smoldering ruin—filled the frame.

  The news anchor spoke in grave tones.

  “Weeks ter and we still have no confirmed reports on the number of casualties inside the Musabori estate, but miraculously, we have confirmed, individuals outside the building weren’t harmed. Authorities remain uncertain of what exactly transpired.”

  The screen flickered, cutting back to the newsroom.

  But the scene transitioned away, revealing who was watching.

  Seated in the dim-lit briefing room of the Setai headquarters, Samberg leaned forward, fingers pressed against his temple.

  The atmosphere was tense, silent but for the distant hum of electronics.

  Then—the door opened.

  A uniformed officer entered briskly, hesitating only for a second before speaking.

  “Advisor Samberg—”

  A quick correction.

  “I mean, Acting Commander Samberg.”

  Samberg let out a quiet breath and shook his head.

  “It’s alright. It’ll take time to get used to.”

  His voice was steady, but there was weight behind his words.

  He turned his gaze back to the flickering screen.

  “What’s the situation?”

  The officer cleared his throat.

  “We still have no reports on the whereabouts of the Musabori infiltration members or their elite fighters. It seems like they’ve all just vanished.”

  A long pause settled in the room.

  Samberg exhaled slowly, his fingers intercing in thought.

  Then, he spoke.

  “I trust that Sato made the right move before going in. They’ll be back.”

  A beat.

  His eyes darkened slightly.

  “But if they aren’t back soon… we may have to accept that Kuroda just changed the rules of the game.”

  The officer stiffened but nodded.

  “Understood, Commander Samberg.”