After a while, coming out of the shower, Alex took the smartphone and opened Pavel Text, a private messaging app not found in any app store. It was personally designed by Eva, the Quantum A.I., and functioned only for those with at least Level-1 access within the organization.
Basically, Pavel had implemented five access systems, from Level-0 to Level-5.
The higher the level, the greater the trust from the organization's leader, and with it came better salaries, exclusive benefits, more sensitive missions, and classified intel.
Those with Level-0 access were basic operatives with no names—only numbers as codenames. They had minimal authority and could only log in to Pavel Text to read the orders in the group chat. Of the 3544 members in total, there are roughly 2300 in number who had Level-0 access.
Only around 900 had Level-1 access and could use the app. Each Level-1 user had a unique codename, which couldn't coincide with any other registered identity in the system.
As for the communication protocols, Pavel Text follows the social hierarchy in the organization.
Level-1 operatives could send DMs only to fellow Level-1s and Level-2s.
Level-2s could DM up to Level-3s.
Level-3s could message Level-4s and below.
Only those with Level-4 or higher access could directly contact the boss, Alex himself. These are a total of 8 in number and also called the 8 Guardians of Pavel, each attributed to a direction, where their base of operations is located.
Naturally, only Alex held Level-5 access. He could see everything.
Back to the present, Alex opened his inbox and browsed through the new messages sent by a couple of his trusted subordinates. Tempes and Pyro, the North East guardian and the South guardian of Pavel, respectively.
He tapped on Tempest's message first.
[Tempest]: Boss, this month's first batch of Mana Ores has reached the refinery. Total shipment: 1244 tonnes (~2.8 million pounds). Grade-2 Mana Ores: 156 tonnes. Grade-3 Mana Ores: 1088 tonnes
[Tempest]: No losses during transit. Surveillance logs and seal-authentication reports are attached.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Hmm… Grade-3 gives 5 to 20 MPE per kg (Mana points Energy)… Grade 2 gives 50 to 500. So, considering the numbers, I would say…5 to 20 times 1088 plus 50 to 500 times 156… Hmm… even with conservative estimates, this month's haul could yield somewhere between 8.9 million to 80 million MPE.
If only…" He exhaled. A long, tired breath.
He couldn't help but lower his head, thinking about his own potential. "If only I were born with higher mana holding capacity, even with a 20% extraction efficiency, my mana energy reserves could have gone past 400,000 points, easily crossing the threshold of a Tier-3. But too bad, this body hit its ceiling years ago. If not for Eva, my Quantum AI Prototype Chip, I couldn't have risen to such heights in this world, either. Without it, I wouldn't have survived the betrayal. Wouldn't have outmaneuvered Black Halo. Wouldn't have outlived the Apex Rebellion. And now… the chip is dead. All I've got left is this damned system, which doesn't say anything."
His eyes slid down to the quest log.
Daily Mission: Burn 5,000 kcal
Progress: 942/5000
Reward: +1 Skill Point
He scoffed. "What's the use of gaining skill points and upgrading my ability to a higher rank, when my reserves can't be increased? And to earn skill points, I have to burn 5000 calories? Ugh… that's like five-six hours of non-stop workout."
"Forget it." He minimized the quest log with a flick of his finger and turned back to the message list.
Alex put aside Tempest's report with a flick and clicked on Pyro's name.
The message opened instantly.
Pyro: "Lord Pavel, urgent report. The Shen Triad attacked Cargo-77 en route to Vladivostok. The entire vessel submerged. No survivors. Estimated time of incident: 0400 hours GMT."
"The Shen Triad?" Alex's expression hardened. His fingers curled slowly around the edge of the armrest, the fake leather creaking beneath the pressure. "Those damn bas*ards…"
Even hearing the name again sent a spike of cold rage through his veins.
They existed in his past life, too.
It had taken him ten full years—ten years of relentless war, betrayal, and sacrifice—to wipe them off the face of the Earth.
And now… in this life… they were still here.
No… worse. They had evolved.
The screen dimmed slightly as his mind drifted, accessing his memories of this life.
The Shen Triad had become part of a broader power bloc now—the God Axis, a hellish alliance between the Shen Triad and the Okoro Brotherhood from the African continent, forming the Shen-Okoro Nexus.
Unlike Pavel's organization, they lacked control over a secure land like Siberia. But they still had control over a significant part of the Sahara Desert, funded warlords, and trafficked everything from beasts to bio-hybrids. They operated through hundreds of shell corporations, constantly shifting. Most importantly, they had numbers.
Back when Eva was still functional, Alex had made their financial lives a nightmare. He had siphoned billions of credits from their hidden vaults, broken through their offshore ledgers, and exposed their false fronts to the Interpol.
But now…
Eva was gone.
So were the satellite surveillance hacks that used to monitor Siberia's unguarded stretches for activity.
His jaw clenched as he re-read the message. After all, this wasn't just an attack on Pavel's supply line. Because the cargo they destroyed wasn't filled with just weapons or ores.
It was filled with medicines. Shipments Alex himself had arranged months ago—imported quietly from the Indian Subcontinent, produced in remote labs with high MPE efficiency.
While he didn't do it for charity or have this special care for the misfortunate or anything, those medicines were important to Pavel to find footing in a region frequently destabilized by dungeon breaks. He planned to donate through his charity group and gain good faith over there.
Why does he need any footing in the Middle East?
Well, dungeon breaks were more frequent there due to low population density, and where dungeons spawned, so did resources.
Alex leaned back on the couch, the light from the text app glinting in his cold eyes. His mind raced with thoughts on how to get back at this rivaling group.
Then, with a sharp exhale, he started typing a command to Pyro.
Commander: [Prepare a decoy cargo ship. Fill it with wooden crates—each box must be sealed and packed with nothing but cotton. Nothing that scanners can pick up. Layer the entire cargo bay with anti-sensor barrier fields. I want full stealth mode. No human crew. Let the ship be manned by the combat bots. Load them with mana cannons. Use the Titan-Class—our biggest and meanest machines.]
His fingers paused for a second, then he added the final detail.
Commander: [Each box will also carry one of our new special devices—you know which ones. Ship's destination: Perth. You lead this alone, but I don't want you to engage the enemies. Instead, I need you to…]
A thin, wicked smile curled across his lips as he hit send.
Message Delivered.
He tossed the phone onto the table and muttered, "Ren Tianyu… this is just a sample gift for your Christmas." Alex chuckled under his breath, voice sharp with venom. "For your Chinese New Year, I'll prepare a gift you won't forget for the rest of your life."
The words dripped with the same energy as a war drum, steady and ominous.
But then the smile slowly faded.
He rose from the couch, walked silently toward the window, and looked out into the endless Siberian night. The wind blew strongly, but his heart was heavier.
"This time," he murmured, barely audible, "I'll stay closer to them. No more regrets."