“────So, how does it feel to have been utterly outplayed,
Immortal Fang — Number Ⅵ?”
The man’s scarred face twisted with a groan.
It was true, after all.
And the one poking at him was none other than the person who had to clean up after him.
He had no excuse.
“My bad. I’ll cover everything from my own wallet, so let it go, will ya?” Six said.
“Don’t joke around! Right now, we need people, not money! Hand over your spares!” Seven said.
“If our goddess were to permit it…” Six said.
Yet perhaps out of arrogance, he acted nonchalantly, yet no one around him found it strange.
That’s why, for Venom, it was such an eerie sight.
Hadn’t he killed this guy?
“S-Six?” Venom asked.
“I’d prefer to be addressed with a ‘Sir’ during a ‘Head’ meeting, but… What is it, Venom?”
Venom found himself calling out to the man and Six responded matter-of-factly, leaving him even more confused and overwhelmed.
Then, a soft yet cold voice addressed him from Number II’s monitor.
“His ‘immortal’ tittle is no lie. That’s all you need to know.
You, of all people, even if you might’ve killed him, need not know more.” Two said.
Venom was the only one surprised. To the ‘Heads’, this seemed perfectly normal.
Should he be amazed? Or terrified?
Frozen for a moment, Venom foolishly chose neither.
“H-Haha! Amazing! That’s our ‘Snake’ for you!
To even surpass ‘death’, the inescapable fate of all living beings!
To think you already had the means! You people are so wicked!
An immortal soldier — with that, a mere clown in a mask is nothing!!”
He raved, extolling praises endlessly as though in a trance.
Fervently and passionately, he declared that with this they would be invincible, ignoring the increasingly cold stares from those around him.
“…So, in the end, what do we do with this nuisance of a fanatic?”
“A suicide mission?”
“He would just interpret it in some twisted way, no?”
“He’s certainly skilled in poison, but he’s replaceable.”
Hopeless. Overburdened with sins. Not a vital asset.
Even with their organization’s numbers drastically reduced, there was no reason to use someone like him.
As Venom, lost in delusion or blind faith, drifted off, the others nearly unanimously decided his fate. And then—
“Then let us guide him to the Altar.”
A woman’s voice — gentle, even kind — echoed, changing the entire atmosphere.
Immediately, all of the Head Numbers except ‘IX’ gasped.
All eyes from the monitors turned to the completely silent ‘I’.
“The… Altar?”
Venom, unaware of the unnatural tension, listened to the voice—
a voice that felt both artificial and yet strangely fitting, a paradox.
“Come, o devout one bearing the name of ‘Venom’.
We await your devotion at our Altar.”
And with that, without consent or protest, it ended.
The floor beneath Venom rose in an instant, enclosing him, and before anyone knew it, his form was gone, the floor having already returned to normal.
“…Whoa, whoa, the goddess spoke. How many years has it been?”
“A first for me. So that’s number one, the Arbiter.”
“Beautiful and calm, but that voice still chills me to the bone.”
To them, this phenomenon and decision were trivial details.
What truly mattered was that she had spoken.
Each of them expressed awe or fear, but ‘I’ had already gone silent, as if her role has been fulfilled.
The Arbiter. The Goddess.
‘I’, unlike the other members, never spoke during meetings, yet she always attended.
In ‘Head’ meetings, she held the final and highest authority.
When the group was divided on a critical issue, or when an unfavorable decision for the ‘Snake’ was about to pass, her choices or vetoes would take priority.
Occasionally, just as she did just now, she might invite a marked individual to the ‘Altar’.
No one but her knew what exactly that place was or what sort of fate might await one there.
In that regard, ‘I’ held the strongest power in the organization.
The nickname “Goddess” was a metaphor coined among the Numbers, a sarcastic remark about her nature, as she usually did nothing—only watch, but once she moved, all else would be silenced.
A figure not unlike a god in a myth.
“Phew… Now then, there were a few unexpected developments, but…
Can we agree to proceed with the previous plan regarding Masquerade?”
‘II’ seemed strained and tired, perhaps from how fast things have been moving.
He let out a small sigh but set everything aside for now.
Then he turned to the others, suggesting it was time to vote.
As voices of agreement murmured, one man — who was actually present in person — raised his hand.
“Hang on, fake gentleman, as surprised as I was by our goddess showing up, I came here for a reason. You mind, granny?” Six said.
“‘VI’—Please stop calling me that.
You’re older than I am,” Three said.
“Haha, my bad, my bad.
Well, I didn’t join in, but I was listening from the start.
And it struck me, ‘III’. You haven’t said much today.
What are you thinking… No, what did you notice?” Six said.
At Six’s shift in tone — from casual to pointed — the others also began to realize that something was off.
Usually, ‘II’ or ‘III’ would lead the conversation and keep things moving.
With ‘II’ being directly affected, most had assumed he would take on the role of acting chair, yet he had barely said anything at all.
“Newbie. Let me ask you again, why are you laughing?” Three asked.
The one she addressed had been quietly — and somewhat eerily — smiling all along. That was none other than Number ‘IX’.
Her question hadn’t changed much, but the nuance had.
Not what’s so funny, but why are you laughing?
And as if satisfied by that shift, he replied without delay.
“Ahahaha, Granny Three, are you asking that even though you already know?” Nine said.
“I have my guesses, but I’m not confident on the details,” Three said.
“Really? But that means you’ve got the big picture, right?
Then making a newbie like me say it feels kinda cruel, don’t you think?” Nine said.
“You’re not the sensitive type who’d worry about that.
Besides, you knew and still kept quiet until now – so, that’s on you,” Three said.
“Oh, come on, that makes us equally guilty, doesn’t it?
Don’t go pushing responsibility on me, Granny.
You’re the oldest and most senior among the sane ones. Lead by example,” Nine said.
“Too bad. I’m a meritocrat. You’re more capable,” Three said.
Heh heh. Ahaha.
Laughter-filled voices. A casual exchange.
Yet no one failed to see the sparks flying underneath.
──Don’t you dare try to dump this on me, you relic.
──Such an impudent brat. You won’t live long.
Most silently observed, staying out of it, while a few whistled as if enjoying the exchange like spectators at a show.
“Those are fighting words, but well, whatever, I’ll play along.
Why am I laughing? How can I not laugh seeing ourselves get checked so easily?” Nine said.
That was why they had forgotten ‘IX’s perceptiveness.
Nine rarely spoke, but when he did, it was always to point out blind spots the others had missed.
And now, his voice — once full of laughter — was serious.
“………Explain, ‘IX’.”
Check.
Sensing the weight of the matter, Six asked him to explain, and ‘IX’ responded with a relaxed tone, smiling as if everything was going according to plan.
“I mostly agree with everyone’s analysis of Masquerade, but shouldn’t we take it a step deeper? Why did Masquerade stop the attack?” Nine said.
The mask could’ve caused so much more damage, yet he didn’t.
“You’re saying it’s not just because he didn’t have intel on the other bases?”
“Oh, I’m fairly sure the mask had info on areas outside Two and Seven’s sectors, so why did he stop there?”
He spoke nonchalantly, like it was nothing.
But it was that statement that was delivered so casually that shook the room.
“Hold on. What are you saying?
If the bases were discovered by the method he claims, then there’s no way he could’ve obtained information on other areas.
You know that, don’t you? ‘Snake’ is a vertically structured organization.
Except for a few named members, there shouldn’t be any lateral connections outside of us.”
‘Snake’ was structured in a way to prioritize survival, so it has been vertically divided to minimize the spread of damage and to allow even the sacrifice of different sectors during emergencies.
When collaboration was needed, the Heads could simply discuss among themselves here, but the actual field operatives never directly contacted members from other sectors.
Lower-ranking members were more likely to be captured or pursued and so are kept isolated from lateral networks.
This design was one of the reasons various police and intelligence agencies have failed to catch them.
“Some exceptions were made this time, so…”
“Hey, don’t get mad. I said I’d cover the damages, didn’t I?”
Still, operating across two worlds came with some complications, so there were certain exceptions.
But in this incident, the only one involved was Six.
But he also led the shared combat unit ‘Fangs’, so it’s undeniable that his authority has been used, and as a result, two sectors were annihilated. But even then, that should’ve been the extent of it.
“I told you this isn’t a problem money can fix,” Seven said.
“Isn’t this a blind spot precisely because of the ‘Head’ system? That is to say we’re caught right in the middle of Masquerade’s trap?” Nine muttered.
That mutter immediately silenced Seven’s angry yells.
It carried with it a tone of ridicule as though to say “How can you not see something this simple?”
“Ignore the scale and just think about it. If that was all the information Masquerade had,
why would they destroy everything in a single strike just because they could?”
The irritation that had begun to rise immediately cooled off at those words.
Because none of them would do something like that.
Even as a warning, they’d leave something behind and observe the reaction.
Especially when the full picture of the enemy organization was unclear.
Even if Masquerade knew something about the ‘Snake’, there must’ve still been many gaps.
That’s how complex and difficult it was to trace their organization.
So if there was really no information on other sectors, they wouldn’t have destroyed everything.
Yet Masquerade completely destroyed those bases; therefore…
“…Cut the crap, rookie. Your logic is sound, but that’s not all you’ve got, is it? Spit it out already.”
‘VIII’ growled, demanding he reveal the information he was so certain of, but ‘IX’ remained unfazed and continued.
“‘Snake’ has been designed in a twisted manner to prioritize survival.
Someone called it vertically divided—but in reality, it’s got two layers.
A clear upper and lower split.
Even if all the lower bases were found, that wouldn’t reach us.
Well, to be precise, only the lower half is truly ‘Snake’.
The upper half is made up of our own individual factions and personnel.”
His tone was mocking, as if laughing at the bizarre structure.
But no one objected—because it wasn’t exactly wrong.
Most of the true ‘Snake’ members were in the lower tiers or among a few named individuals.
The ‘Heads’ and their private forces were effectively external assets, interchangeable.
And only the ‘Heads’ were aware of that truth.
As long as either the upper or lower layer survived, ‘Snake’ could continue.
That cold-blooded redundancy was what has kept them alive for so long.
“But it’s also true that this setup comes with major inconveniences.
Especially in regards to how slow information moves. For the modern age, it’s really bad.
We know the internal structure, so we hear things quicker than most, but even that’s limited.
But that’s also why we weren’t completely blindsided by Masquerade this time.”
He stated facts every ‘Head’ already knew.
“There are systems and roles in place to compensate for those flaws.
So let’s have a quiz, shall we?!
How did we ‘Heads’ first learn of this incident? What was the first sign?”
He posed the question like a game show host in a tone so grating it almost seemed intentional.
And yet the room was gripped by an eerie silence.
Because not a single one of them missed what was really being screamed in that silence.
Normally, when lower-level Snake members encountered an emergency, they couldn’t directly contact the higher-ups, barring certain individuals or departments.
So the ‘Heads’ rely on independent intelligence networks and knowledge of where their operatives are.
In this case, movement was observed as personnel scrambled to respond along the borders of the two compromised sectors, and the responsible ‘Head’ relayed it to the others.
That was the first report—or so it seemed.
But when prefaced by “factoring in the support systems,” a different answer emerged.
How did lower-tier Snake members—who supposedly had no lateral connections—know that a crisis had occurred in a completely different sector?
“………Wait, no way…”
When they put two and two together and realized the answer, they were stunned into silence.
This enforced disconnect between tiers existed to prevent sudden events or individual mistakes from exposing the ‘Heads’ or the organization’s full structure.
But at the same time, delayed information could be fatal.
That’s why the auxiliary system was put in place.
And everyone here already knew it had functioned as intended.
“Don’t tell me– the Emergency Call system was used!?”
“That system alerts nearby bases of abnormalities, regardless of area—so in other words…!”
That truth struck at them like a blade.
The emergency system was meant solely to alert surrounding bases, facilities, and personnel that a critical event had occurred.
It wasn’t complex—just a one-way signal.
The transmitter and receiver were single-use, self-destructing after activation.
Even if an outsider tampered with it, it would erase itself.
No one should have been able to extract anything from it. Key words: should have.
“The fact that we don’t typically use that system ourselves is no excuse. It’s undeniably a total failure on our part.”
The emergency signal, issued during the large-scale suppression near the end, had, of course, also reached bases in adjacent areas.
And that meant it was a path.
After all, the one who chose the timing of the operation was Masquerade himself.
“…Tch. So that’s what felt off.”
That’s why Six clicked his tongue in disgust.
No one present failed to grasp how critical and catastrophic that meant the situation truly was.
Shock. Dismay. Confusion. Anxiety. Panic.
They all fought to suppress the storm of emotions to think clearly and find a proper response.
“Unfortunately, if the transmitted signal was indeed followed, and even one border was breached, then with his level of intel-gathering and bizarre hacking ability, even facilities completely isolated within a single area wouldn’t stay hidden for long. And once he figures out how to breach once, he’ll do it again. Then it spreads, one after another… until the very end.”
Until everything was known, he would not stop.
Almost every monitor let out a breath that sounded like groans or screams.
The “worst-case” scenario, spoken plainly by ‘IX’, was something none of them could deny.
Because it had already occurred to every one of them.
“…This is far worse than I imagined.
At this point, we have to assume Masquerade has identified every single base and facility on Earth.”
No physical evidence. Purely circumstantial.
But when it came to Masquerade, the mere possibility made it as good as confirmed.
A malignancy that, if not cut off, could lead to the downfall of the entire organization.
“H-Haha… Seriously… This is almost laughable.
That bastard, with just one move walked right up to our throat, and barely anyone even noticed!”
“It’s fortunate, in a way, that inter-world communication was limited to direct lines between ‘Heads’ through this place, but still, this is…”
Absurd. Ridiculous.
Despite understanding the logic of it, their minds refused to process it.
Even if they could, there was no easy answer to the problem that now lay before them.
The Earth-side ‘Snake’ was effectively compromised.
And that was just the minimum problem.
“IX, you’re really a piece of work, aren’t you? Laughing the whole time because of this?”
As a result, they couldn’t help but find fault in Nine.
Had he been mocking their ignorance of this unfolding disaster all along?
‘IX’ neither denied it nor was he shaken.
“Now, now. I’m in the same position as all of you, remember?” Nine said.
“You!? You’ve basically been ignoring your duties entirely!”
“Hey, giving out instructions every time is such a hassle.”
“Sigh, newbie boy, I thought you were sharp, but you’re worse than that. You’re a bad boy,” Three said.
Three wasn’t exasperated just because of his evasiveness but rather the reason why he didn’t speak up earlier.
Yes, he hadn’t been slacking due to inexperience. He just couldn’t be bothered, and he shamelessly admitted to it too.
Alas, ‘III’ could only sigh.
“Hahaha, but of course! I may be a newbie to the legendary underworld organization, but I’m still an executive!”
“Are you trying to be irritating right now!?” Eight said.
He was the one who told them that they’d been outmaneuvered, yet not only did he show no empathy, his words were laced with barbs too as he kept on laughing.
Yes, it was clear now.
This was how he really was, not whatever face he’d shown in their previous meetings.
“Calm down, Eight, Seven, and you, Nine. Enough joking around.
If we don’t get it together, this could really be the end of the ‘Snake’.”
“Hmph.” Eight said.
“Tch.” Seven said.
“Haha, sorry, sorry.” Nine said.
Now wasn’t the time to let things spiral any further, so ‘V’ reestablished order.
The main instigator gave a verbal apology, but his tone remained light.
Letting out a sigh, ‘V’ consciously ignored his irritation.
“…Let’s get back to Nine’s earlier point.
In short, the attack stopping here was just camouflage to make us believe he didn’t know more than that?”
“Mm, I’d say it was more of a stalling tactic. A complete sweep of Earth would take time, after all. And if he’s trying to use the stolen data to track us, even more so.”
“…After two full days have passed, that’s not much comfort, boy.
There might still be a bit of a grace period on the second part, but it’s only a matter of time.
Even if our orders were made roundabout enough to avoid detection, anything recent—Masquerade will find it. Thinking otherwise is just naive.”
“Ahaha, true! Sorry again—It only really clicked for me just now.
After I heard the damage reports and timeline, I was like:
‘Oh, that bastard really did it.’”
His sharp perception was, admittedly, impressive.
But the tone of mockery in his voice and the casual delivery tended to stir irritation in others rather than admiration.
“…Fine. Whatever.
Honestly, I didn’t want to notice it, but pretending not to would be worse in the end.
But, boy, you know, it’s almost like you’re saying—”
“—He’s preparing for war?”
Though interrupted, her meaning was hit squarely.
‘III’ let out a tired breath, not in annoyance,
but in weary agreement.
Masquerade had inflicted a devastating blow, then acted to slow recovery.
Meanwhile, he harvested info on other bases.
Given how thoroughly Earth-side locations were now likely known, and yet with no contact, threats, or attacks…
Was he waiting for something? Still preparing?
It felt like a war of information preceding a massive conflict.
“Tch. As much as I hate it, you’re the only one who saw this coming.
So I’ll ask—do you think that bastard really plans to go to war with ‘Snake’?”
One-third of their Earth-side forces destroyed.
Other sites compromised.
Masquerade seemed to have the backing of law enforcement and military forces—
a structured opposition.
But was this truly a military confrontation?
Or a battle over influence, resources, territory?
Even the top minds of ‘Snake’ couldn’t read his moves or his erratic motivations.
So they turned to the only one who had seen through him: ‘IX’.
His answer was brief and decisive.
“Nope. I don’t think it’s war.”
“Huh?”
“He plans to erase us. Completely.”
Just like that, he declared Masquerade’s intent to obliterate the ‘Snake’.
The room fell silent, as if all sound had been sucked out.
In the end, what emotion filled their hearts?
Was it shock? Awe? Dread?
Or was it, acceptance?
“…Do you think he can do it, boy?”
Regardless of the answer, ‘III’ asked.
Was it truly possible for Masquerade to destroy them?
But—
“What? You don’t think he can?”
‘IX’ responded like the very question was baffling.
Finally registering the stunned silence, he muttered,
“Seriously, we’re starting there ?”
He groaned for a few seconds, then forced out his next words.
“…It might sound strange, but Masquerade knows the right way to take down a large organization.
He doesn’t corner it too quickly. Instead, he systematically weakens it and prevents recovery.
At the same time, he builds opposing forces to encircle it.
None of you are going to argue that the groundwork’s already finished, are you?”
“That’s true. He leaked who we executed using the Apostle Weapons.
Thanks to that, the major public institutions now have a reason. No, an obligation to oppose us.
If they don’t, they’ll be condemned.
Even with ‘eyes’ and ‘ears’ everywhere, there’s no way we can control the whole organization freely.”
“And to Masquerade, those agencies mean nothing.
They’re not his. He can burn through them and not feel a thing.
In fact, if we do crush them, we’ll just dig a bigger hole for ourselves as we find ourselves in an even bigger conflict with authorities.”
“The bastard’s clever. He threatens them, sure, but everything he demands still technically falls under their legal duties.”
“And even then, he only goes after institutions that are already corrupt.
Some of them must be secretly happy to follow his lead if he clears the way.”
“So from here on out, any police or military outfit could end up as his private army.”
“And the longer this drags on, the higher the chance that even our own subordinates, maybe even someone in this room, might end up among them.”
“Betray your organization, or be destroyed by me. Is that how it’s planning to go about it?”
“Tch… Sounds like a bad joke, but we can’t exactly ignore it.”
One man. One move. One night.
An act that once seemed like excessive defense of a single songstress was now a blade pointed at their throat.
Masquerade probably didn’t even care that they had figured it out.
Because once they understood, they’d have no time to worry about her.
Just like that, this secret society that was older than modern history was quietly being cornered.
As someone said: it was ridiculous, but they couldn’t laugh it off.
The enemy might be absurd, but the threat was real.
While they wasted time dealing with visible issues, Masquerade would march straight into the heart of the organization.
They didn’t know when, only that he would.
Everyone understood that much.
Other than ‘I’, who remained silent, and ‘IX’, who maintained his smile, the room sat in silence, too stunned to even sigh.
“…It can’t be helped.”
“What is it, Three?”
Her words, tinged with exhaustion and resolve, drew wary glances from the others.
Whether by design or chance, she waited until all eyes were on her, then she spoke.
“Everyone, I propose we place ‘Snake’ into hibernation!”
“What!?”
“…!”
Everyone was shaken.
Even ‘IX’, who had kept smiling throughout, was speechless.
The impact of her words was clear.
Because in effect, it was a call for the organization’s voluntary dissolution.
“…Never thought I’d hear that while I was still active.”
“Seriously? You’re saying we should hibernate and wait this Masquerade mess out?”
“There’s no other way.”
Hibernation.
The same hibernation of a snake curling in on itself for the winter.
The final failsafe of an historic organization that spans nearly as long as civilization itself, one that places survival above all else.
When executed, all vital information, records, assets, and compromised facilities would be sealed off for the next generation.
It was literally a hibernation, a method to put the entire organization to sleep.
There were many methods to it.
Some assets would be managed separately, while some would be sealed in shelters, others hidden within neutral or even unaware civilians.
Even the ‘Heads’ didn’t know all the details, but once certain conditions have been met, a ‘restoration’ section would reawaken the ‘Snake’.
Some legacy would surely be lost, but surviving with some parts lost was better than complete annihilation.
And time was on their side.
They had gotten this far precisely because they could be patient.
It was this ability to endure that was the very foundation of the Snake itself.
“…I get the logic, and I understand the necessity, but are we really okay with this? But if so, none of us will know if it works or not.”
“According to the records, there have been a few past instances of hibernation, and some have lasted nearly 200 years. Yet the ‘Snake’ is still here today. Isn’t that answer enough?” Three said.
Whether it was pure unease or resistance to losing the privileges that came with the organization, the voice of doubt was quickly drowned out in the face of the situation and ‘III’s authority.
“If we continue operating as we have, Masquerade will destroy us.
But to defeat him would require a gamble between survival and annihilation.
That’s a bet we can’t afford to take.
And we no longer have the time to explore alternative options.
Therefore, all Earth-side bases, facilities, and personnel that have been exposed will be discarded.
The Garestonian side will enter hibernation, and we will wait until that ‘creature’ has vanished from this world.”
It was a retreat from battle in name only.
The plan itself was ruthless.
Disposal methods would vary depending on the target or location, but there was nothing peaceful about it.
To act on the compromised elements, even issuing commands risked exposure, so intermediaries would be required.
It would be a rehash of what Masquerade himself had done, except far more brutal, skewed toward eradication over capture.
Then, a strategic retreat.
They would hide until the Mask is believed to be dead.
By then, even the youngest here, Nine, wouldn’t be alive.
The Snake would hide where they couldn’t be reached, then they would return when the coast was clear.
It was the ultimate “winning without fighting” strategy.
“────Granny, that’s not going to work.
You’re still underestimating him,” Nine said.
He was the one who made their predicament clear, so everyone listened carefully to his next words.
“It’s true that it’s safe to assume that all of Earth has been compromised, but Garestoo’s side is still an unknown. And when it comes to Masquerade, ‘unknown’ is a big problem.
If he really has gotten that far, we’ll lose one of our legacies instantly.”
He rejected hibernating without properly investigating or preparing, stating it would only increase their losses.
He didn’t stop there, going as far as to press every issue before a counterargument could form.
“And this idea of total disposal? That’s reckless.
Not only would he notice we’re cutting ties, if he sees what remains, or what we salvaged, he might just be able to extrapolate everything from that.
What’s even worse is that Masquerade seems to understand the Apostle Weapons and the technology behind them, even the things we don’t fully understand, things under the jurisdiction of One.
Speaking of which, can you at least tell us whether those assets are on Earth or not?”
“…”
“…Yeah, no response.
Figures.
Which means no one can say for sure whether there are related facilities on the Earth’s side.
If Masquerade gets even a fragment, who’s to say he can’t reach all the way to ‘I’s central core?
What if he completes a nullification device?
What if he uses it to arm himself?
I wouldn’t be shocked if he did.”
The scariest part wasn’t how likely it was but the possibility of it at all.
Masquerade’s absurdity had consistently defied their expectations.
In a sense, he was even more ludicrous than the Apostle Weapons.
“Besides, even if we cut ties, we’d have to rely on government forces to carry out the process due to the lack of time.
But the first person to give such an order is bound to look suspicious.
Wouldn’t they just trace it back to you, Granny?”
Everyone already knew that ‘III’ was the one with the influence to make such extreme moves appear legitimate, so while they never said it outright, it was common knowledge among them.
“If you’re thinking ‘even if that’s true, we have to try,’ then you’re being naive.
Of everyone here, you are the one who absolutely can’t fall into his hands.
You hold the greatest public power, and you’ve been a Head the longest.
If you get linked to Masquerade, even after the seals are in place, it’s a massive threat to the organization.”
“…You think I’ll give in to his threats?”
“No. I’m saying, what if he doesn’t even need to threaten you?
What if he can read your mind?
Control your thoughts?
Manipulate your soul?
Or replace you altogether?”
“Hey now, that’s going too far—”
“Can you say it’s not possible?
I used to think spiritual powers were nonsense too until I joined the ‘Snake’.
And now we’re seeing signs Masquerade can use those kind of powers.
You think he’s already shown everything ?
After we all agreed how paranoid and cautious he acts?”
“…”
By that logic, anything was possible.
But choosing to believe the possibility was more practical than the opposite.
Especially when they’ve already seen what he’s capable of.
Still, bellying all these fears was one simple, inevitable truth, the real problem that ran even deeper.
“Above all, we barely know anything about Masquerade himself.
Is his lifespan really just that of the human?
What if his power is hereditary?
What if he can summon allies from a third world?
What if someone there rivals his strength?
Is he even a person at all?
Does he have a support network backing him?”
No one could answer.
No one even had a clue where to start.
Or rather, they hadn’t had the luxury to investigate.
That made it impossible to dismiss ‘IX’s concerns as overreaching paranoia.
“And who’s to say he can’t do the same thing?
I’ve heard there are techniques to freeze time for a body or seal someone alive.
There’s even research on cold sleep technology.
If that ever gets completed, our ‘hibernation’ loses all meaning.
It’ll be the start of an endless, era-spanning chase between the Mask and the Snake!”
He said it with a grin, almost amused by the mental image.
But perhaps he was the abnormal one.
Because if that happened, the ‘Snake’ would never escape.
An organization has far more to lose over time than a single individual.
They’d run out of stamina, constantly resetting everything they’d built.
Masquerade, on the other hand, likely wouldn’t lose his power no matter the method.
No one needed to say it, but the future was bleak indeed.
The weight of “even this might not be enough” settled over them.
Even ‘III’, who had proposed the hibernation plan, saw it too.
And so, she asked the next question that begged itself.
“………I understand your concerns.
But what’s the alternative?
Without another answer, we’re stuck in the same dead end.”
At that, ‘IX’ perked up, his tone lifting as if he’d been waiting for this.
“Of course I have an answer, though half of it overlaps with yours, Granny.
We still cut off the exposed bases, facilities, and lower members.
But on both worlds we keep up appearances.”
“Maintain appearances on both sides?
…Ah, I see.
Keep operating as normal so Masquerade doesn’t realize our plans?”
“Exactly!
Then, under the guise of normal missions and tasks, we slowly extract the most valuable assets and data, and seal them off discreetly. Sure, even that might tip him off, but…”
He trailed off, not for suspense, but because he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
With rising excitement, he practically shouted the next part.
“The key is that, no matter how suspicious he gets, Masquerade is still just one person !
And more importantly, he hasn’t acted openly on Garesto!”
The sudden heat that had surfaced in his voice was jarring to say the least.
Everyone in the room had faced blood, fire, war, and chaos – they were ‘Snake’ elites, forged in countless crises – and yet, something about that moment gave them a chill.
Because they knew.
Those two points he emphasized, they weren’t tactical insights.
They were triggers.
‘IX’ was smiling, eerily excited.
And they knew what he was about to say even before he said it.
“Hehehe… We’ll force him out!
We’ll spark event after event, disasters, crises, mysteries he has to intervene in on Garesto!!
Even with teleportation, he’s just one man.
He can’t be in two places at once!
And especially not across worlds !
If he could , he’d already be active on both fronts.
Sure, we’ve seen blackmail, leaks, and threats, but not he himself.
There’s not even the tiniest rumor of him moving on Garesto!
That means he’s never been there! Not once!!”
Could it be that Masquerade, for all his power, had simply never gone to Garesto?
Could that entire world be untouched, not because it was safe or peaceful, but because he simply hadn’t arrived yet?
If so, then it was the one battlefield ‘Snake’ could still choose.
“W–Wait a sec!
You’re saying we should hit Garesto because there’s no sign he’s been there?
What does that even mean!?”
“Try looking at it from Masquerade’s perspective.
He’s already dealt a massive blow to Earth-side ‘Snake’ and has likely mapped nearly every base.
But since we’re a cross-world organization, destroying just Earth’s side might trigger desperation on Garesto’s side, something he probably wants to avoid.
And if he checks from Earth, and he finds next to nothing about Garesto, what’s the next logical step?”
“…Ah, so while we’re too busy scrambling to deal with this, he’s going to head to Garesto, huh.
Both the frontlines and the underground here have slowed to a crawl thanks to his maneuvering, so…”
“Right, so during this time, he’ll probably do a deep dive on Garesto and our operations there.
He’s always playing far beneath the surface, every move so frustratingly meticulous!”
“But thanks to that… right now, for once, the usually untraceable Masquerade is probably on Garesto.
And Garesto is a much smaller world than Earth! If we trigger large-scale incidents, one after another there, then…”
“We can lure him out under the guise of investigation.
And once he’s locked down over there, we can proceed with sealing our bases on both Garesto and Earth.
He’ll be too preoccupied to trace our real actions.”
“But if we activate the Garesto ‘Snake’ for that, won’t it backfire?
If he’s there, then he’ll definitely notice our movement.”
“Of course.
Our policy will be to avoid using Garesto’s ‘Snake’ as much as possible.
The actual instigators will be locals.
If we do need manpower to stir the pot, we’ll bring in Earth-side operatives.”
“Even though they’ve already been exposed?”
“Other way around. It’s precisely because they’ve been exposed.
We’re not trying to hide, we’re baiting him.
It actually helps our cover if it looks like we’re unaware of him.
Frame it as part of disaster response, and it’ll pass.
Even if he suspects it’s bait, even if he knows it’s bait, what can he do when a huge incident breaks out?
Or if we hint at multiple plots unfolding at once?
He’ll have no choice but to bite the bait!”
And during that time, they’ll finish everything.
Nine said, his voice practically shining with excitement.
In response, most of the people in the room let out impressed, even approving sighs.
Unlike three’s passive proposal to lie dormant, nine’s plan was an aggressive withdrawal, burning bridges behind them while using everything they planned to abandon as fuel.
A controlled demolition that drew away attention with chaos.
But then again, these were people who had stepped on others to rise, so kicking down the fallen was just a reflex to them.
In fact, perhaps it felt more natural to strike back before retreating.
Or perhaps, they simply saw how that benefited them.
“Hold on. Say everything does go smoothly.
That still doesn’t mean Masquerade’s gonna give up on wiping out ‘Snake’, right?
What do we do about that?”
“I mentioned hinting at big plans and major incidents, remember?
Well, what if we actually carry one out?
The classic setup an evil secret society on the brink of destruction, launching one final desperate scheme, then the mysterious masked hero swoops in and defeats them all, then tada! A happy ever after!”
‘IX’ delivered the scenario like a storyteller offering a twist.
Some nodded in understanding. Some slapped their knees. Others burst into laughter.
The reactions differed, but they all recognized the unspoken intent.
It was a setup, a crafted narrative and stage designed to mislead Masquerade.
And when no further objections arose, ‘IX’ turned, almost as if preordained, to address her.
“Now then, Arbiter ‘I’. What do you think?
The Snake stands at a crossroad.
Silence is not an option. Give us your decision!”
No matter what led up to this, this was still a debate over the hibernation of ‘Snake’, a decision only ‘I’ could finalize.
Every word ‘IX’ had spoken so far had been, in essence, aimed at convincing her.
『Very well, bearer of the Ninth.
Your proposal is approved.』
He had succeeded.
Her voice, clear and serene, carried no shadow of doubt or manipulation.
She said only that and then fell silent once again.
But no one looked confused.
Now that the decision was made, there was only one thing left to do.
“───In that case, shall we begin hammering out the details, everyone?”
Now that the course was set, they moved like shadows given form.
They were, after all, the architects of both worlds’ underbellies.
Plans. Operations. Strategies. Conspiracies.
In such matters, none were their equals.
Thus, by the very next day, the operation was already in motion.
Regardless of how much blood would be spilled.
Regardless of how many would suffer and fall.
They knew it all, but they didn’t hesitate for even a second.
And so—
this quiet decision, made far from the eyes of the world,
became the beginning of what Garestonian history would later record as—
The Titan Incident.
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