Chapter 346: Rudiments of Viscera

The heart, the lungs, the liver—all of them had taken on their basic shapes.

Crude, still. Blurred, indistinct. But the trajectory was unmistakable.

The earlier gunman-type Anomaly had been entirely hollow inside. A shell with nothing within. A form without substance.

Now, substance was emerging.

“Interesting.”

Pandora’s voice was soft, carrying a thread of genuine fascination.

Though the uncontrollable element remained high, Phoebe’s ability—at least on the surface—genuinely carried a hint of “Creating Life.”

From nothing to something. From empty cavities to visceral organs. From outer shell to inner core.

If this path of creation could be walked all the way to its end…

Could it truly, one day, reach the point of creating life itself?

A glimmer kindled in Pandora’s eyes—a light eager and restless.

Wholly unlike the cold indifference she had shown during the hunt at the banquet. This was the hunger of a researcher, the thirst for exploring the unknown.

…………

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

The banquet was slowly drawing to its close.

The manic, near-hysterical fervor that had gripped the crowd now ebbed from its peak, retreating like a tide, leaving behind only damp sand and scattered foam.

Sporadic applause still drifted in from a distance—some drunken guest, still clapping for the ‘miracle’ they had witnessed hours ago, though no one around them cared anymore.

Faint, slurred laughter rippled through the air from time to time, loose and indulgent.

Servants hurried through the corridors, weaving between guests with trays of near-empty champagne flutes. The professional smiles on their faces were beginning to strain.

At that moment, the swinging door pushed open.

The young squad leader, still in his crisp tailcoat, stepped inside.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead under the lights.

Weariness marked his face. Relief, too.

The exhaustion wasn’t physical but mental. Hours of maneuvering—smiling at everyone, exchanging pleasantries with everyone, responding to every request, whether fervent or greedy—that drained one’s spirit more than any battle.

He scanned the back kitchen, his gaze passing over his comrades.

Some were straightening kitchenware knocked askew. Some were wiping bloodstains from the floor. Some were taking stock of their equipment.

Then his eyes settled on the ground.

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There lay the mangled corpse of Bear.

The massive body had been largely dismantled. Coarse black fur and layers of muscle had been separated and laid out in neat, orderly rows upon the floor.

The one processing the corpse was none other than Betty.

She wore thick leather gloves. Her movements were methodical, every cut precise and clean, following the grain of muscle and the joint of bone.

No wasted motion. That round, unremarkable face showed no emotion whatsoever. Only focus.

The squad leader didn’t interrupt. He withdrew his gaze.

Drawing a deep breath, he spoke. “Status report. Give me the rundown.”

The vice-leader who had conjured the bone wall stepped forward first.

He was the only member of the squad besides the leader to have reached the limit of Second-Rank, and the most senior member present.

After a brief pause to organize his thoughts, he delivered his report.

“Reporting, sir. The first kill of this operation was Butterfly.”

“Lady Pandora personally dispatched her during the banquet. You will already be aware of this.”

The squad leader nodded. Of course he knew.

He had watched with his own eyes as Pandora, arm in arm with that ‘young lady,’ had departed toward the suite area.

After that, he had never seen the girl emerge again.

“Next was Serpent,” the squad member continued.

The leader furrowed his brow slightly.

That one, he had missed.

After all, the moment Pandora left the banquet, all eyes had zeroed in on him.

As Pandora’s ‘spokesman,’ he had naturally become the new focal point.

The investors had swarmed him, vying for attention, their enthusiasm almost suffocating.

One after another. No room to breathe.

He had indeed been frantically overwhelmed.

Fortunately, the plan to eliminate the Anomalies had never required his oversight.

That was the duty of the other auxiliary squad members. And, far more importantly, the domain of Lady Pandora herself.

“Then came Bear.”

The squad member gestured toward the enormous carcass currently being carved apart on the floor.

“We surmise that the commotion from Lady Pandora killing Serpent drew Bear’s attention…”

“Fortunately, Her Ladyship’s strength proved superior. She dispatched it here.”

The squad leader’s eyes swept across the wall, still riddled with fine cracks.

He could only imagine how intense the battle had been.

And yet, scarcely anyone in the banquet hall just one wall away had sensed anything amiss.

A thought flickered through the squad leader’s mind.

Her Ladyship’s power…

It might very well surpass even that of Lady Poppy, a veteran Third-Rank!

A flash of astonishment crossed his eyes. He nodded again.

“As for Crocodile…”

The member paused, his tone taking on a note of greater caution.

“Lady Pandora did not kill him.”

“It appears she intends to keep him. Much like the Anomaly… Miss Phoebe.”

The squad leader pondered this briefly, then waved a hand dismissively.

“Not a problem.”

“The Seven are among the very few Anomalies who inherited the intelligence of the humans they killed.”

“Keeping one or two may yet prove useful.”

He did not press the matter further.

Everyone present understood clearly: their mission was to eliminate Anomalies, but the final say always rested with the Third-Rank masters.

Especially that one—Pandora Douglas.

“Rat was confirmed dead long before this,” the member continued his report, consulting a list in his hand.

“Sparrow…”

“Sparrow’s movements are erratic. He was the only one of The Seven who did not participate in this banquet.”

He shook his head.

“It’s of no consequence. We had already confirmed Sparrow would not attend.”

“Even if one of The Seven remains, they can stir up no further trouble.”

“Thus, besides Sparrow, the only one left should be… Raccoon.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a squad member who had been staring down at his palm suddenly raised his head.

In his palm, a palm-sized creature was relaying a message.

Brief. Tremendously significant.

“Report! The latest news!”

“Raccoon—”

The man’s voice pitched upward, frayed with barely suppressed excitement.

“Lady Pandora has confirmed the kill!”

In other words, the Anomaly-cleansing portion of this mission was now successfully concluded!

After a brief, stunned silence, a collective breath of relief swept through the back kitchen.

It was a breath they had been holding since before the banquet began.

From planning to execution, from setting the perimeter to closing the net—every step had been taken as if treading on thin ice.

And now, they could finally let it go.

A relaxed smile at last touched the corners of the squad leader’s mouth.

“Then, what of the banquet’s other objective?”

Unconsciously, every gaze in the room turned toward the leader.

His smile widened slightly as he delivered the anticipated good news.

“The funds—fully secured. The total amount has even exceeded our projections.”