Chapter 171 New Order

Chapter 171 New Order
Amelia POV

I gathered Maria and Shokunin in one of the temporary command tents. As we were deep in discussion about logistics and security protocols for Professor's body transport, Pilot entered the tent.

"Dancer," he said. "We have a situation."

I looked up from the maps. "What kind of situation?"

"Several organizations that were cooperating with Awakened Order are showing signs of panic. They're attempting to evacuate their assets and personnel."

Muse stepped forward, tablet in hand. "They're trying to move their successors and heirs out of Zone Omega. Apparently, they're afraid Round Table will hold them accountable for their association with Cain."

"And?" I prompted.

"We intercepted the evacuation routes. Twenty-three individuals, all children or young adults of the major Zone Omega families, are currently in our custody."

Jason's jaw tightened beside me. I could feel his disapproval radiating like heat.

"Bring me the family leaders," I ordered. "All of them. It's time we had a conversation about the future of Round Table and Zone Omega."

Pilot nodded. "They'll be here within the hour."

"And the detained heirs?"

"Secured in the eastern perimeter."

I nodded. "I'll inspect their conditions before the meeting."

The eastern perimeter had been converted into a temporary holding area. Not a prison—an open-air compound surrounded by portable fencing and guards posted at regular intervals. I walked along the perimeter, noting the quiet conversations and occasional sobbing echoing from within the enclosure.

"How are they being treated?" I asked the guard captain.

"Standard protocol, ma'am. They know why they're here, but we haven't made any threats."

Through the chain-link fencing, I observed a group of teenagers clustered together on portable benches. The youngest couldn't be more than fourteen. Their designer clothes and soft features spoke of privileged lives, now shattered by their families' poor choices.

My phone buzzed. A message from Pilot: [The leaders have arrived.]

I replied: [Bring them to me.]

The open area outside the holding compound had been cleared for the meeting. A convoy of black SUVs—at least a dozen—idled just beyond the perimeter, their occupants visible through tinted windows but making no move to approach. I stood at the center of the clearing, Round Table zone leaders flanking me in a semicircle. The message was clear: they were outnumbered and outgunned.

I raised my voice. "Gentlemen, as distinguished leaders of Zone Omega's most influential organizations, surely you haven't become timid in your old age?"

The passenger door of the lead vehicle finally opened. A white-haired man in an expensive suit emerged, followed reluctantly by others. They approached slowly, their bodyguards maintaining a respectful but wary distance.

"Ms. Colt," the old man said, his voice carefully neutral. "We appreciate your invitation to discuss recent events."

I smiled coldly. "You mean your collaboration with a terrorist organization that murdered thousands of innocent people?"

The group exchanged nervous glances. The old man stepped forward slightly. "Our associations with Cain's organization were based on misrepresented research initiatives. We had no knowledge of—"

"Spare me the denials," I interrupted. "Your connections to Awakened Order are well-documented. The question now is what you intend to do about it."

The old man's composure cracked slightly. "The conflicts of our generation should not fall upon innocent children. Whatever grievances you have with us, surely you wouldn't punish our heirs for our mistakes?"

I studied his weathered face, seeing genuine fear beneath the diplomatic veneer. "You're quite right that past grievances belong to the past. However, your organizations' support enabled Cain to continue his research, which directly harmed Round Table's reputation. That debt requires settling."

Silence stretched between us. Behind the old man, a younger leader cleared his throat nervously.

"Take our lives if you must, but spare the children. They're innocent in all of this," he said finally.

Before I could respond, a clear voice rang out from the building entrance. "Grandpa! No! You don't need to worry about me!"

I turned to see a boy, perhaps sixteen, standing in the doorway. His chin was raised defiantly, but I could see the tremor in his hands. Behind him, other young faces appeared—all of them trying to look brave for their families.

The old man's composure shattered completely. "No, David. This isn't—"

"I've lived a good life, Grandfather. Whatever my family has done, it ends with me."

Tears tracked down the old man's face as he looked at his grandson. Around the courtyard, similar scenes played out as other family leaders recognized their children.

"Enough," I said quietly. "I've seen enough innocent blood spilled to last several lifetimes."

I moved to the center of the courtyard, ensuring every eye was on me. "Professor's death has been confirmed, and I have already assumed his position."

Jason's expression shifted to something between concern and disapproval. I caught his eye briefly, acknowledging his discomfort before continuing.

"I have no interest in perpetuating the cycles of violence that brought us to this point. However, Round Table's position in Zone Omega requires restructuring of existing power dynamics."

I paused, letting the implications settle. "I propose the following: your organizations will formally integrate under Round Table's authority. In exchange, we will legitimize Zone Omega's governance structure and provide protection from international law enforcement."

The old man wiped his eyes, struggling to process this unexpected turn. "You're offering us... sanctuary?"

"I'm offering you evolution," I corrected. "Round Table will no longer operate as an assassination organization. We're transitioning to become an international mercenary training and security consulting firm."

Jason's head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with surprise. This was the first time I'd spoken this plan aloud, though I'd been considering it since my first serious contemplation of life beyond killing. Assassination is a young person's game, but Mercenary training and private security are legitimate businesses with sustainable long-term prospects.

"And our children?" the old man asked.

"Will be released immediately. Future cooperation will be based on mutual benefit, not coercion."

Nods rippled through the group of leaders. The old man exchanged glances with his colleagues before stepping forward. "We accept your terms, Ms. Colt."

I gestured toward the cell. "Pilot, please escort our guests' family members to the courtyard."

Within minutes, the young people emerged, rushing toward their relatives. The reunion scenes were emotional—fear giving way to relief, uncertainty replaced by tentative hope.

"The details of our new partnership will be negotiated in the coming weeks," I announced. "For now, consider this a probationary period. Prove your commitment to legitimate business practices, and Round Table will ensure your protection."

The old man approached me as the crowd began to disperse. "Ms. Colt, I... thank you. You could have demanded blood, and you chose mercy instead."

"I chose pragmatism," I corrected. "Dead partners are bad for business."

As the Zone Omega leaders departed with their families, I found myself alone with the Round Table zone leaders. Their expressions ranged from approving to concerned, but none voiced outright opposition to my decisions.

"Any objections to the new direction?" I asked.

Muse spoke first. "The transition makes strategic sense. We have the expertise and infrastructure."

"Agreed," Pilot added. "Our reputation will actually be an asset in the mercenary training market."

"What about Professor?" Shokunin asked quietly.

The mention of his name brought the weight of grief rushing back. "We honor his final wishes. His body will be cremated at Round Table headquarters, as he requested."

I straightened. "All zone leaders will accompany me back to headquarters. Professor deserves a proper farewell, and we have an organization to rebuild."

As the group dispersed to make preparations, Jason approached me. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of pride and concern that made my chest tighten.

"That was quite a performance," he said quietly.

"It wasn't a performance. It was leadership."

"And the career change? When did you decide Round Table should become a legitimate business?"

I met his gaze steadily. "The moment I realized that being a killer was a dead-end job. You can't build a future on a foundation of corpses, Jason. Eventually, you run out of people to kill or reasons to kill them."

He was quiet for a moment, processing. "And what about us? FSOD and Round Table?"

"That depends on whether you think a mercenary training organization is something the federal government can work with."

A slow smile spread across his face. "I think our Secretary would be very interested."

Relief flooded through me. "Good. Because I'm going to need someone I trust to help navigate the legal complexities of going legitimate."

"I think I can arrange that." Jason smiled. "Now, let's go see Professor."

An hour later, we stood around Professor's body as the medical team prepared it for transport.

"He would have approved of your decision," Jason said quietly.

"He died trying to fix his mistakes," I replied. "The least I can do is learn from them."

As the body bag was sealed and loaded onto the transport helicopter, I felt the weight of Round Table's future settling on my shoulders. Professor's legacy would be cremation and memory. Mine would be transformation and legitimacy.