Chapter 290
Chapter 290
Belmont City, Zafira, Vostara, Shinagawa City...
"They're using proxy server chains to wash their tracks."
"Useless."
Margaret stared coldly at the wildly dancing red line. "The beacon isn't tracking IP—it's tracking the hardware's physical signature. Unless they throw their computer into a volcano, we can find them at the ends of the earth."
As her words fell, the red line stopped following false proxies, instead cutting an impossible straight line through the air, crossing half the globe before slamming down hard on a spot on the map.
The entire room fell dead silent.
Everyone held their breath, leaning forward, eyes glued to that light point.
A line of coordinates slowly appeared:
[Abandoned Polaris-3 Research Station. Antarctica.]
Antarctica?
The joy of victory instantly froze, leaving only cold bewilderment.
"Ghost server..." The technical director's voice was hoarse. "All that effort, just to find an empty shell server in Antarctica."
The trail had gone cold again.
The Shadow was like a true phantom, erasing all traces in the ice and snow.
The beta test was a massive success. The Starlink system withstood rigorous testing, stock prices soared in response, and global media praised this textbook-level cyber warfare.
This was an undeniable victory.
But in the control center, no one was in the mood to celebrate.
Margaret sank back into her chair, letting out a long breath as her tense shoulders finally relaxed.
She gazed at those coordinates at the world's end on the screen, a deep sense of powerlessness washing over her.
She'd won the battle but hadn't even touched the enemy's shadow.
Footsteps approached from behind.
Richard had somehow moved to stand behind her.
He offered no congratulations or comfort, his gaze also falling on those Antarctic coordinates before turning to her.
"They're playing us." A statement, not a question.
"I know." Exhaustion colored Margaret's voice.
The secrets of Ouroboros, the Neville family's past, like an abyss stretching between them.
But now, after sharing this battle, standing in the wreckage of this virtual battlefield, looking toward coordinates pointing to the world's end, that abyss no longer seemed impossible to cross.
They were no longer just ex-husband and ex-wife, but fellow travelers gazing into the same fog.
The enemy was the same.
Death-like silence filled the control center. After the victory's clamor receded, only that coordinate pinned to Antarctica remained, like cold mockery.
Everyone looked at Margaret, waiting for her orders.
But she just leaned back in her chair, that bone-deep exhaustion impossible to hide even with the hardest mask.
She'd won—won flawlessly.
She'd also lost—lost completely.
"They're playing us."
Richard's voice came from behind her, low and emotionless.
Margaret didn't turn around, just murmured her agreement.
Of course, she knew.
The opposition deployed top-tier hacker teams, launched an attack on the globally watched beta day, only to point the trail toward an abandoned research station where no living person could possibly exist.
This wasn't provocation—it was mockery.
Like a cat with a mouse, not rushing to devour it, but batting it around with its paws, savoring the prey's struggle.
The Shadow was telling her: they could snap Starlink's neck anytime, but they chose not to.
They wanted to play slowly.
Richard's gaze moved from the cold coordinates on screen to her tense profile.
After a moment of silence, he said, "I'll send people."
Margaret finally turned, exhaustion in her eyes replaced by a hint of surprise.
To Antarctica?
That wasn't a house call—it was heading to humanity's forbidden zone at the world's end.
The required manpower, resources, and funds would be astronomical.
"An empty shell server isn't worth it," she analyzed coolly.
"How do we know it's empty without looking?" Richard's logic was simple and brutal. "Even if it's just a shell, I want to see what brand of paint they used on the walls."
His words carried the anger of being toyed with.
Margaret looked at him, her eyes reflecting the dancing data streams of the control center.
In this moment, the Shield Protocol stretching between them seemed to crack.
She was no longer his caged bird; he was no longer her jailer.
They were prey marked by the same beast.
"Suit yourself." She looked back at the screen, her voice betraying neither pleasure nor anger.
Richard said nothing more, turning to walk into the shadows.
A call connected him to Blackstone Security Company's logistics director.
"Target: Antarctica, abandoned Polaris-3 Research Station."
The voice on the other end was clearly stunned. "Mr. Neville, did you say... Antarctica?"
"Twenty-four hours. I want a team that can survive in that place, an icebreaker, and all necessary equipment. Money's no object—I only want results."
"Mr. Neville, this requires coordinating routes and permits with several countries. Twenty-four hours..."
"That's your problem." Richard hung up directly.
He never doubted Blackstone's capabilities.
Pay the right price, and they'd put people on the moon.
After hanging up, he returned to the one-way glass, watching Margaret command the system restoration in the room.
Her exhaustion had vanished completely; she was back to being that strategic commander.
Richard suddenly felt that this safe house in Lakehaven truly couldn't contain her.
No matter where she was placed, she'd carve out a bloody path.
What he needed to do wasn't cage her, but stand behind her and handle those troubles.
The Starlink beta storm ended dramatically.
Margaret New Energy Group not only withstood world-class cyber attacks but also demonstrated its technical strength and security performance to the globe.
Stock prices soared, and hesitant operators from various countries sent cooperation proposals.
Margaret returned to the domestic headquarters.
The celebration was grand, but she only made a brief appearance before diving into the data center.
Instinct told her things weren't that simple.
The Shadow invested such massive costs just to play a hacker game, then mock her?
This didn't fit top-tier organization logic.
"Ms. Kennedy," the technical director handed over a report. "All data flows during the beta have been reviewed. Aside from the main attack on South America ground station three, other nodes defended perfectly with no abnormal infiltration traces."
Margaret flipped through the report—every data point was perfect.
Too perfect.
Perfect like a meticulously arranged, suspiciously clean crime scene.
Her fingers unconsciously tapped the table, gaze sweeping over the busy employees in the data center.
"Give me access," she said suddenly.
The technical director was confused. "What access?"
"Highest level. I want to review all data access records from our internal servers over the past three months. Not just technical departments—administrative, HR, finance, logistics... everything."
The technical director looked troubled. "Ms. Kennedy, that's against protocol. Non-technical data, especially HR and finance, that's top secret..."