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# Chapter 39: I Am Also Very Strong

Six golden apples.

Holy artifacts.

Brotherhood, League of Assassins.

Temple, Knights Templar.

Isn't this straight out of Assassin's Creed?

Locke raised an eyebrow.

The next second, Locke was stunned for a moment, looking at the golden apple in his hand. He blinked and thought about the golden apple's supposed life-sacrificing requirement.

Why don't I need it?

...Wait.

Energy.

Locke remembered the first time he activated the golden apple. The amount of energy it required was beyond his imagination.

Fortunately.

Locke's energy reserves were also beyond the golden apple's imagination.

Locke thought it over and realized it made sense. It's likely that before he gained endless energy, activating the golden apple would indeed have required life energy.

Good grief.

Locke felt a wave of relief. Thankfully, he was busy counting rewards at the time, and by the time he played with the golden apple, the supreme talent had already been credited. If there had been an accident, wouldn't he have almost perished?

But...

Locke looked at the golden ball in his hand, still unable to associate it with an apple: "By the way, shouldn't apples have leaves? Without leaves, this thing has nothing to do with apples. It looks more like a stone egg."

Did Sloan remove the leaf?

Locke blinked, considering the possibility. After all, Sloan had likely had the golden apple for some time. If he fumbled with it for long and couldn't figure out its use, it wouldn't be surprising if he tried to dismantle it.

A few days later.

After finishing the day's tasks, Locke, who had earned 2,000 achievement points and 2,000 potential points, was doing homework remotely with Gwen in his study.

He was preparing for a race in Maine in December.

At this time.

The satellite phone beside Locke rang.

Gwen, on the video call with Locke, looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

Locke smiled at Gwen. "There's a call, I'll answer it."

Gwen nodded. "Okay."

Locke got up, grabbed the satellite phone, and walked out of the study.

He connected the call.

"Victoria?"

After the connection, Locke listened to the voice on the other end. He was puzzled; hadn't Victoria been arrested? How did she escape?

Or, is she selling out her client list?

This is a survival instinct. When life is on the line, what secret can compare to one's own survival?

But...

Victoria's voice on the other end said, "Sorry, Locke."

Locke raised his eyebrows as he walked from the second floor to the bar downstairs. Hearing this, he paused before drinking. "Huh?"

"I was captured by the organization I originally betrayed."

"I heard."

Locke resumed drinking, then jokingly said, "Is your former leader an old black man who wears an eyepatch and likes to wear a trench coat?"

The Red Devils had suggested that Victoria might be with a mysterious organization.

Locke didn't take it seriously.

But...

Victoria sounded surprised. "How do you know?"

"...Really?"

"Yes, though Hardman wears an eyepatch, he prefers a beret over a trench coat. On the day he arrested me, he was indeed wearing a trench coat."

It's confirmed!

The mysterious organization is S.H.I.E.L.D.

Locke raised his eyebrows.

An eyepatch—Hardman was definitely Nick Fury, the director of the legendary secret organization S.H.I.E.L.D.

Put it this way.

When people see the Hulk, they know it's the Hulk.

When people see Iron Man, they know it's Tony Stark.

And when people see that old black man with an eyepatch, pretending to be a pirate, it must be Nick Fury.

Just like only Bruce Banner can become the Hulk, only Nick Fury can wear that eyepatch.

But...

Holding his wine glass, Locke walked to the balcony, looking at Central Park across from the Star Building, and asked Victoria on the other end of the phone, "How did you escape?"

Would Nick Fury let a defector like Victoria go so easily?

"The Roman Brotherhood rescued me."

"...I'm listening."

"Sorry, they know I had business dealings with you. They rescued me and want to know how to find you."

Blonde, blue-eyed, and sweet-looking Victoria boarded the private plane sent to meet her, sipping red wine and smiling apologetically.

Locke wasn't surprised at all. "It's okay, just come out."

Again.

When your life is at risk, no secret is worth more than your own survival. Locke wouldn't do this, and he wouldn't expect others to either.

It was normal for the Roman Brotherhood to know.

After all, Victoria Knox is an arms dealer, and arms dealers often tell new clients about their old clients.

Originally, Locke wasn't very famous among Victoria's clientele.

He was just an assassin.

But Victoria Knox liked to give credit. To ensure clients would pay, she would often mention Locke.

So...

Locke smiled. "It's okay, I understand."

If it's out, it's out.

The unparalleled assassin doesn't exist. As long as he doesn't wear sunglasses, the other side could turn the world upside down and still not find him.

But Locke was mistaken.

Victoria Knox continued, "They must have useful clues, so I gave them your little friend..."

Locke narrowed his eyes. "What friend?"

"Rock Broughton, your little friend."

"What?"

"Sorry."

Victoria Knox continued to apologize sweetly. "If I didn't give them something, they'd want to make an example of me. They are very strong and unparalleled."

"So am I."

"...What?"

Locke interrupted. "Goodbye, Victoria."

He hung up the phone promptly and blocked Victoria Knox from his friend list.

Sharing some information to build friendship is one thing, but selling him out is another.

Betraying the unparalleled assassin to save yourself, Locke could understand and wouldn't blame her.

But betraying Locke directly was a mistake.

...