Things Were About To Get Serious
The judge, adorned in tattered rags, had convinced the beggar of her true identity. With utmost secrecy, they ventured through hidden passages, ultimately reaching the underground lair where the leader of the beggar faction awaited. And thus, the judge managed to return to the High Table.
As she cleansed her body and exchanged her ragged attire for a pristine suit, a surge of authority coursed through her veins. It wasn't just her appearance that exuded power; there was an undeniable air of confidence and grace that couldn't be feigned.
Once she was ready, the judge picked up her phone, knowing exactly who to call first. With a chilly tone, she uttered, "Eliminate those trash who have had the misfortune of witnessing what they shouldn't have seen."
A resolute "yes" resonated from the other end of the line before she abruptly ended the call. The judge took a moment to gather herself, attempting to quell the seething anger that consumed her. This was an unprecedented situation, one that she had never encountered before.
How could anyone dare to commit such an audacious act against her, a prominent figure within the esteemed High Table? The thought alone intensified her rage, fueling a fire that demanded retribution.
Despite her fury, the judge acknowledged the need to control her emotions. In her present state, engaging in conversation with the revered Elder would only be detrimental. She knew that she had to regain composure before addressing the matter.
After what felt like an eternity, the judge managed to calm herself, if only slightly. With renewed focus, she again grasped the phone, determined to rectify the situation. Time might be running out, but the gravity of the circumstances demanded her immediate attention. Not only had her honor been insulted, but there were also forces audaciously declaring war against the mighty High Table.
....
The Newyork Continental Hotel
"All the bounty offerers have been confirmed dead, so no follow-up bounties have been offered," Winston declared, looking at Edward with amusement and congratulations.
"Congratulations, Mr. Edward. According to regulations, your bounty offer has been automatically canceled."
Edward couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. As the chairman of a multinational group, he had faced numerous challenges, but nothing compared to the intensity of the 30-minute assassination attempt on the bustling streets of New York. Surviving such a harrowing ordeal was an exhilarating experience.
"It's not me you want to thank," Winston interjected, shaking his head. "Logically speaking, I'm still the manager of the Continental Hotel under the High Table. Everything was done according to the rules. What you really want to thank is..."
Before Winston could finish his sentence, Jack entered the living room, capturing everyone's attention.
Edward immediately stood up, a gesture that stemmed from gratitude for his saved life and awe at Jack's god-like abilities demonstrated throughout their encounter. The fact that Jack could cut bullets with a wrench was badass, but Edward quickly dismissed the thought, focusing on the matter.
"Mr. Jack!" Edward exclaimed, acknowledging Jack's presence with respect and gratitude.
Jack smiled and replied, "Everyone contributed to this operation. The collective efforts of the Knights Templar ensured your safety."
Moved by their selfless acts and witnessing Jack's extraordinary skills, Edward felt compelled to express his gratitude. He reached into the lining of his suit and produced a check, presenting it to Jack with both hands in a display of utmost respect.
"I am deeply grateful to the Templars for their assistance and unwavering commitment to preserving order," Edward said earnestly. "This is my humble offering as a token of my appreciation—a remuneration for the Templars' remarkable dedication."
Jack couldn't help but laugh, finding the situation amusing. "Why do you suddenly think I'm only interested in money? This isn't good, no, not good at all~" he teased, lightening the mood.
Winston watched the exchange, a faint twitch in the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help but think, Can you stop talking about money while holding the check? Come on, man!
Jack, unbothered by the implications, brushed off the comment about money, recognizing that his reputation was inconsequential compared to his abilities. Throughout history, he knew shameless individuals often managed to navigate life more easily than those burdened by pride.
Of course, strength was the ultimate determining factor in the end.
And so Jack reached out and accepted the check, knowing that it signified more than just monetary value. It represented 1 billion US dollars—an amount gotten in a form that could be seen as experience points for his Templar profession.
This windfall would allow Jack to upgrade his Templar profession to a higher level, unlocking tantalizing skills and abilities. He couldn't help but anticipate the sheer deliciousness of those new powers.
As he pocketed the check, the transaction felt complete. Jack immediately shifted to his career panel, eagerly anticipating the changes.
Upon inspection, the panel displayed the following:
[Templar Knight Advanced (590/10000)]
Title Bonus:
1. [Advanced Knight Bloodline]
2. [Advanced Stealth Skill]
3. [Advanced Backstab Skill]
4. [Eden Sword] (I didn't expect it; I'm back again!)
Jack blinked in disbelief, trying to process the wealth of new skills and upgrades before him.
Jack: "..."
It wasn't because of the ordinary pleasantries that followed. Nor was it jubilation over finally mastering the art of dodging bullets without a wrench.
That trusty wrench had been bent out of shape before, and Jack had relied on its form in the past. However, it took time to reform, which became quite troublesome.
But now, the topic at hand was the Holy Sword of Eden. Wait a minute... wasn't that an artifact from the virtual realm of Assassin's Creed?
Could it truly be extracted from the confines of the game's system? And what about the legendary Apple of Eden? Does such an artifact really exist?
Jack pondered these questions while engaging in a lively conversation with Edward and the others.
Speaking of the golden sheep... oh no, Edward, What stood out the most was his remarkable ability to convey the "truth" with eyes wide open!
Jack had once demonstrated how to change a bribe into a proper source of income for the Templar Knights. Since then, Edward had been remarkably perceptive, using Jack's established routine to explain every transaction and make Jack roll in money. Edward could make a great propaganda head for the Templars, and Jack decided to rope him in.
"By the way, I'd like to discuss something with you," Jack said to Edward.
"Please, Mr. Jack, enlighten me," Edward respectfully responded. "There's no need for discussion; consider it an order."
"Do I need to excuse myself?" Winston inquired.
"No, there's no need," Jack assured him. "It's about... Edward, would you be interested in joining the Knights Templar?"
Edward answered confidently, "I am in; where do I need to sign."
....
A Luxurious Hotel Room
The judge sat on the opulent sofa, her face pale as she recalled the day's events. Despite her livid expression, her tone softened when speaking with the person on the other end of the line.
After all, it was the [Elder] from the esteemed high table.
"The situation has been handled, and there won't be a trace of rumors," the judge assured. "The sanctity of the high table must remain inviolable."
"Yes, I understand. I will make my way to the Continental Hotel and the Hawk Eye organization," the judge continued.
"Very well, carry on."
After hanging up the phone, Judge Rivera's grip on the receiver tightened, her eyes narrowing sternly. She is in an absolutely foul mood now!
Unable to contain her agitation, she paced the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She knew that it was only natural to seek an outlet for pent-up emotions when a storm cloud hovered over someone's disposition.
In a flurry of activity, she approached the special awaiting car, dispatched again by the High Table. Its sleek black exterior glistened under the dim streetlights, promising a swift and luxurious journey. As she entered, the scent of polished leather and a hint of mint filled the air, enveloping her in an aura of refinement.
She settled into the back seat with a confident nod, feeling the smooth texture against her fingertips. The car purred to life as the driver switched on the ignition, the gentle hum of the engine whispering a promise of an extraordinary escapade ahead.
Rivera couldn't help but observe the lively urban tapestry outside as the vehicle glided through the city streets. Neon lights danced in vivid hues, casting a vibrant glow on the crowd. Laughter and chatter intertwined with the distant melodies of street musicians, adding a symphony of sounds to the scene.
....
The Sahara Desert
The Elder's face contorted into frustration and concern as he reluctantly hung up the vintage rotary phone. It was a gloomy day for the High Table, and the news he just received didn't brighten his mood. The Continental Hotel, their sanctuary, and safe haven, was again embroiled in trouble. Misfortune had decided to pay them a prolonged visit.
Slumping back into his plush leather chair, the Elder contemplated the dire situation. A staggering blow had been dealt to their ranks, with a jaw-dropping twenty percent of registered assassins wiped out. Even the High Table, the esteemed council that governed the assassins' world, would struggle to accept such a colossal loss among their active members if that wasn't bad enough.
But what stung the most was the realization that this devastation had been orchestrated by an enigmatic and unexpected foe—the Knights Templar. The very name sent shivers down the Elder's spine as he pondered how an ancient order long thought extinct had resurfaced and struck with such devastating precision.
"Information," the Elder murmured, his voice laced with determination and urgency.
The attendant, a young and agile initiate, promptly stepped forward, handing over a neatly stacked pile of documents. The Elder's weathered hands grasped the papers, his eyes scanning each page with meticulous scrutiny. Things were about to get serious.
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