C9 With the Gene Potion in His Hands, Urlan and Nicole Were in Danger.

"Man, do you think Urlan's gonna turn into a zombie?"

"We can only pray at this point. Damn, what's heaven got against Osmistan?"

"Seriously, why'd they pick all the people with the worst physical condition?"

"I heard Setruarhiel has gotten their hands on the Chaotic Space's info-comm tech. If they crack the tech sample from there, their lagging 6G could leapfrog ahead in no time!"

"What's our move? We've gotta get moving, train harder. It could be any of us next. We need to step up for Osmistan!"

"The Eastern Giant Dragon's awake, but the Chaotic Space is holding us back!"

"Damn, I'm begging the Chaotic Space to pick me. I'll take down anyone in my path – god or demon!"

"Ugh, Urlan's still out of sight, hiding somewhere. Not knowing what's happening to him is killing me!"

That's when Moskieso's netizens crashed Osmistan's live stream again.

"Ha, I knew he couldn't last. Look at him, about to bite the dust!"

"Who's next? Better get ready to meet your maker!"

"Yo, our Moskieso ninjas found an old nuclear plant and snagged some intel. We're about to solve our energy crisis for good!"

"Moskieso brats, why strut around here? Got the intel? Try finding it in reality first!"

"Yeah, quit bragging. Did you even find your gene potion?"

The mention of the gene potion hit a nerve; it was Moskieso's Achilles' heel. They'd been searching nonstop without any luck and were about to scour their own waters for it.

"So what if we haven't found it? The gene potion's still in our country. You're just jealous!"

"Don't be so sure. For all you know, someone else might've already found and used it. You're just clueless!"

Right then, in a Moskieso neighborhood, a middle-aged man in a suit and sunglasses stopped at a flowerbed's southeast corner.

He propped his foot on the bed, bent down to tie his shoelace that had come undone.

Once done, he reached into the flowerbed and slipped a syringe-shaped object into his clothing.

With everything in place, he coolly walked away.

Back at his place, the man's stoic expression gave way to relief. He grabbed a satellite phone from a hidden nook and dialed.

"Director, the gene potion's actually there! What's the next step for extraction? I need your orders," he whispered.

On the line was Ollie, the Chaos Lab's director.

Hearing this, Ollie's faith in Urlan was solidified, but he felt a heavy burden – such a capable man might soon be lost.

Exhaling deeply, Ollie said, "Ethan, you've been in Moskieso for quite some time, haven't you?"

"Director, ten years and eight months," Ethan replied.

"That gene potion? Use it yourself. Consider it a token of the nation's gratitude for your service," Ollie instructed.

Ethan was momentarily stunned, then overjoyed, but he quickly asserted, "Director, we're too far behind other nations. I can't use this. It must go back to the Chaos Lab for research!"

"Ethan!" Ollie called out.

"Present!" Ethan snapped to attention over the phone.

"This is an order! Do you understand?" Ollie's voice was firm.

"Yes, sir!" Ethan responded gravely.

"Use it now, and be careful with that syringe," Ollie advised.

"Thank you, Director," Ethan said, moved.

"You've earned it. The nation remembers its loyal servants," Ollie assured him.

Ollie had already run this by the top brass. With the global crackdown, smuggling the potion out seemed impossible.

Administering it to an agent in Moskieso was the best course of action.

It would boost Ethan's capabilities, helping him further his mission in Moskieso.

After hanging up with Ethan, Ollie briefed the higher-ups.

"Keep Urlan and his contact safe. They're Osmistan's hope, our chance to outpace the rest," the leader commanded.

"It might be too late," Ollie responded gravely.

The leader was unaware of Urlan's predicament.

After Ollie filled him in, there was a heavy sigh on the line, "Such misfortune! But we must safeguard the person he entrusted to us."

"Understood," Ollie affirmed.

"Also, prioritize researching that virus and the mutant black cat," the leader continued, "Ensure the virus doesn't spread. Screen and quarantine everyone entering our country."

"Yes!" Ollie responded.

"Do everything you can to treat Nicole!"

At that moment, Nicole had been rushed to the isolation ward, where numerous top virology experts from within the country were already gathered.

"We haven't completed the virus sequencing yet, but Nicole might not last much longer. Should we follow Urlan's instructions?"

"Administer all the antiviral medications we have on hand, and implement Urlan's suggested approach. There's no time for second-guessing!"

"Okay, let's proceed with that plan!"

A nurse administered an antibody serum extracted from a black cat's blood into Nicole's system, while a cocktail of antiviral drugs flowed through the IV line.

Nicole was in the throes of a persistent high fever, her skin reddening by the minute, and her throat sounded as if it was clogged with phlegm—reminiscent of the groans of a zombie.

The restraints that bound her creaked and groaned under her frantic struggles.

Thankfully, these straps were custom-designed; Nicole couldn't break free from their hold.

"It doesn't look promising," one of the experts murmured, shaking his head in dismay.

"Stay calm, we can't afford to lose hope until the very end."

While Nicole continued to fight fiercely against her symptoms, Urlan too began to succumb to a rising fever.

Yet, the system at his ear kept delivering vital information.

[Information: Host, please be mindful of your brain temperature. Sustained heat can cause brain damage. The water in this restroom isn't potable, but use it to cool your head!]

Urlan, head spinning with dizziness, staggered over to the bucket.

Despite the water turning a sickly green, Urlan plunged her head in without hesitation.