BIOLOGICAL SUPERCOMPUTER SYSTEM

"Fuck…" Erik let out a silent sigh of relief and went toward the private area.

Crowds flowed in and out of the building: many were there to take tests, others bustling about as part of their daily work routine.

Erik's lips curled into a slight smirk. He reached up, running a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric of his hood.

"A door of many secrets." Erik had to pay attention. He couldn't afford to be found.

His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his weapon, a comforting presence at his side.

He flexed his fingers around the grip, drawing strength from its familiar touch.

With purposeful strides, he moved toward the door. In the next moment, he was on the other side.

As in Testrovsc's Rest, the private area was sterile, exuding an aura of efficiency.

The walls were painted a pristine white, giving the place a clean, clinical feel. White-painted wooden doors lined the corridor, each equipped with a window that allowed a glimpse into the rooms.

"Just like they like it."

Through these windows, Erik could see various activities taking place. In one room, a group of mercenaries were engaged in a simulated combat scenario, their movements tracked by advanced motion sensors.

In another room, a clerk was conducting a psych evaluation on a recruit. Erik could hear the clerk's voice asking a series of questions designed to probe the recruit's mental resilience and tactical aptitude.

"Describe a situation where you had to make a tough decision under pressure," the clerk's voice echoed faintly through the window.

Further down the corridor, Erik saw a room filled with high-tech equipment, likely used for physical tests and examinations.

He tiptoed down the corridor, his senses heightened as he listened for any hint of conversation that might provide information about his target.

In a room next to the corridor, Erik heard the muffled voices of mercenaries engaged in a discussion.

"I can't believe they're making us go through another round of physical endurance tests. I thought we proved ourselves already."

"Yeah, but you know how it is. They want to make sure we're always at the top of our game. No room for complacency."

As he continued to listen, he heard the mercenaries exchanging tips and strategies. They discussed the challenges they had encountered during previous tests, sharing advice on how to overcome specific obstacles and maximize their performance.

"Remember to pace yourself during the endurance run. It's easy to burn out if you go too hard too early."

"And don't underestimate the marksmanship test," another said. "Focus on your breathing and be steady."

Erik's eyes darted from room to room, his ears attuned to the fragments of conversation that reached his ears. Unfortunately, despite the situation, it looked like there was no one who knew something about Max.

Frustration grew with each passing room. He then climbed a flight of stairs, determined to exhaust every possibility in his search for a lead.

As he checked each room, his hopes dwindled as he found nothing of significance.

On the second floor, Erik entered a room, his eyes scanning its contents. Disheartened, he moved on to the next room, and then the next, repeating the process on each floor.

As he ascended to the fourth floor. Until now, the best he found were people doing administrative jobs and staying silent for the entire duration.

The minutes turned into hours as he inspected every corner, every object, to find any shred of evidence about the target location.

He had already checked their computers and servers, and there was nothing about the man there. They kept the information either on physical documents or in none.

As he approached the last room on the fourth floor, Erik's expectations were low. He wasn't confident of finding any information that would bring him closer to his target.

With a deep breath, Erik reached for the door window to peer into what was inside.

Inside the room, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow from the overhead lights, stood an intricate and elaborate setup. The space was adorned with an array of equipment and monitors, displaying a multitude of data streams and surveillance footage.

Erik's gaze was immediately drawn to a large, wall-mounted screen at the center of the room.

Next to the screen, a sleek workstation housed an assortment of gadgets and devices.

However, next to the workstation there were two people. His eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized one of them. He didn't expect that person to be there.

Standing next to the workstation in the room, there was Lyria Bannon, the Deputy Chief Administrator of the guild's operations. Memories flooded his mind, recalling their encounters.

Lyria stood at a medium height, her presence commanding attention. Her cascading waves of chestnut hair framed a delicate face adorned with a sprinkling of freckles, adding a touch of charm to her features.

Her deep hazel eyes, filled with intelligence and a hint of playfulness, held a familiarity that only time could forge.

Dressed in a rich maroon robe, Lyria exuded an air of authority befitting her high status within the guild.

Erik's gaze fixated on the woman, his mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. Their paths had intertwined many times in the past.

She was the one who had assigned him quests on behalf of the Blackguards, so her presence here could only mean that she came to find him on their behalf.

Perhaps they had already deduced his role as the perpetrator behind the shapeshifters' killings.

To evade their grasp, he had sent a message to Max through the TV, sowing seeds of confusion by implicating the Crystal Cross Gang in the heinous acts.

Erik's gaze remained fixed on her, and his mind was consumed by a surge of curiosity. He couldn't help but speculate that Lyria might have a more significant role in the situation than what he thought.

Maybe she wasn't just someone the Blackguards talked to when they needed help, but a member of the organization herself. These were all Erik's speculations, though, and he couldn't get a clear picture unless they said something relevant.