The precautions Lorenz had taken were indeed impeccable.
It could be said that had it been any other ordinary officer he had personally promoted, they would inevitably be helpless by now, left with no choice but to obediently hand over the credit.
But for Isolde, nothing Lorenz had done exceeded her initial expectations.
From beginning to end, Isolde had never given up on struggling.
She still had one chance to gamble.
Facing Lorenz, although his 'carrot and stick' method was executed far too crudely—to the point where it felt more like he was provoking anger rather than appeasing or manipulating—she had to keep him in the mindset that victory was within his grasp.
On the surface, Isolde maintained the appearance of someone who hadn't realized this manipulation and had instead been successfully tamed into agreement. She spoke submissively:
"Understood, Sir. However, changes take time. Please wait here for a moment; I will go back and polish the wording to make the report more rigorous, reasonable, and consistent with the facts you wish to see, then bring it back for your review."
This seemingly submissive proposal contained Isolde's true objective.
She was gambling on whether Lorenz would allow her to return to the Obols Squad's station.
Yes, Isolde was gambling.
Or rather, in such a situation, she could only gamble.
She was betting that she could make him lower his guard through her display of obedience. She was betting that Lorenz, amidst his foolproof preparations, would feel so assured of victory that he would become careless. And she was betting that Andrew would truly be willing to stay and wait because of Orpheus and Ghostfire's retention.
As long as he allowed her to leave this tent before the report was submitted, she still had a chance.
A chance to seek help from the Hunter, Andrew, who had come to the Obols Squad.
And this was the main reason she had asked Orpheus and Ghostfire to make sure Andrew stayed, telling them she had something she wanted to discuss with him.
To be honest, compared to the perfect and secure plans she always executed as a commander, this kind of plan—where everything from start to finish was an uncertain factor and the initiative lay entirely in the opponent's hands—was a complete first for Isolde.
But given the current situation, Isolde had no better option. She had to gamble.
In Lorenz's eyes, however, seeing Isolde being so tactful and cooperative instantly put him in a great mood.
For Lorenz, who already thirsted for status, this feeling of being fawned over was so intoxicating that, for a moment, he couldn't help but feel a bit lightheaded.
But he did not completely lower his guard as Isolde had hoped, nor did he let her leave the tent.
As a man who had racked his brains and used every unscrupulous method to climb the ladder, while his skills in military strategy and combat command were mediocre at best—calling them amateurish would be a compliment—when it came to power struggles and fighting for profit, he was absolutely a first-rate schemer.
Otherwise, relying solely on that massive check given by Porcelumex would not have been enough to let him climb all the way from an ordinary commander to the position of Major General.
Without the corresponding means, that check would have only turned him into a piece of fat meat in the Defense Force that anyone could take a bite out of.
So, regarding Isolde's proposal, although Lorenz didn't suspect her motives, his cautious nature made it very clear to him that he must not relax until the matter was set in stone.
There were plenty of people in the Defense Force who wanted a slice of this pie. If he let Isolde out of this area, who knew if some other entity that had secretly infiltrated would use other means to swallow this credit?
As someone who played these games himself, Lorenz knew the nature of his colleagues—who were equally hungry for merit—all too well.
He didn't want to pop the champagne at halftime only to have the prize snatched away.
So, with just a glance from him, his personal guard—who was equally eager for this credit and spent every day fawning over him like a lackey—instantly understood.
The fully armed adjutant simply raised his hand.
The soldiers standing by at the door moved with the utmost speed, carrying in a new set of table and chairs as if they had been waiting for this moment all along.
To be precise, the guards who had been pricking up their ears to eavesdrop on the voices inside had indeed been waiting for orders.
After all, once this credit was firmly secured by their superior, it wouldn't be a dream for him, the captain of the personal guard, to leap to the rank of a field officer. Even the lowest soldiers in the guard detail could at least mix their way into becoming squad leaders.
And this was exactly why Lorenz wanted his personal guard to split half of the Obols Squad's credit.
If he became a Lieutenant General, Lorenz, wanting to rapidly expand his personal forces, would need a leadership team completely loyal to him to form new squads. And after consuming the credit belonging to the Obols Squad, his personal guard, who were all incredibly loyal to him, would be the perfect fit.
But for Isolde, this was not good news at all.
Her only hope sank back into the depths of her heart, and her last chance vanished right there and then.
Indeed. The Hunter, Andrew, was likely one of the few people in the entire Scott Outpost, or even the entirety of New Eridu, who had the capability and was most likely willing to lend a hand.
But he wasn't some omniscient god.
Without knowing what she was currently encountering, how could he possibly think to extend a helping hand to her?
Unless a miracle happened again.
Facing Lorenz, who was prepared for everything and cautious enough to have considered all her retreat routes, Isolde knew clearly in her heart that relying solely on herself—a mere Colonel right now—she was powerless to change anything.
Once this document was sent out, if she wanted revenge, she would have to rely on the power of the Exaltists once again.
But compared to the original plan where only her own life was the price of revenge, the cost this time would be far, far greater.
By then, after luring Lucro, the CEO of Porcelumex, to the Waifei Peninsula and using the Exaltists' hands to kill him, she would have to continue accumulating power while hiding her identity to pursue the rest of her revenge.
Then, during the final debriefing report, she would use the power granted by that so-called Originator to forcibly kill him.
However, not only were there too many uncertain factors in this, but it was also destined that she could not distance the Obols Squad from herself as in the original plan.
As the only squad under her command, the Obols Squad would inevitably be implicated because of her identity as a Bishop of the Exaltists, leading to a purge.
When it came to the Exaltists, the Defense Force would certainly rather kill the innocent than let a guilty one go.
Orpheus, Ghostfire, Trigger, Sid, and even Soldier 11—Xia Lin—who had become familiar friends during the recent battle. Isolde could not bring herself to make them the price of her revenge.
When the cost of revenge was the only remaining members of her squad and the spark that now inherited the will of the original squad, Isolde knew that the original plan was destined to be discontinued.
So, she didn't plan to keep pretending.
Since she couldn't have it both ways, she would take what she could do right now to the extreme.
Facing the table and chair placed before her by the guards, Isolde's fingers gently stroked the somewhat cold tabletop.
But she did not sit on that carefully selected sofa chair, which had been thoughtfully placed at the most appropriate distance from the table, but whose true meaning represented submission and obedience.
Silently, she flipped page by page through her report—which contained not a single falsehood—turning a blind eye to the fountain pen meant for corrections that had already been handed to her side.
She let the guard stand there, somewhat at a loss.
The spine that had been kept slightly bent in a bow before Lorenz to feign respect and lower his guard now became incomparably straight. The head of Colonel Isolde, which had always been lowered, was held high at this moment.
In this instant, she was no longer Colonel Isolde, but a simple avenger from the past.
From beginning to end, no matter how Isolde's identity changed, the only thing within her body was that soul which had already died during the Fall of the Old Capital and had only been forced to linger on because of the flames of vengeance.
For the first time, she looked down upon her enemy with naked, condescending scrutiny.
Isolde's previous disguise had been too perfect, making her transformation incredibly abrupt for Lorenz. The once incredibly docile house dog compared to the Isolde standing before him now seemed worlds apart.
It was as if the shell before him had quietly swapped souls just a moment ago.
Looking at Isolde, who had merely flipped through the previous report again with absolutely no intention of modifying it, Lorenz's originally leisurely expression gradually solidified.
Meeting Isolde's downward gaze directly, he forcibly suppressed the anger surging in his heart and asked, word by word:
"Colonel Isolde, what is the meaning of this?"
To Lorenz's anger, Isolde now appeared incomparably indifferent.
She casually glanced at the incredibly ugly expressions of Lorenz and the adjutant beside him, then spoke faintly:
"No meaning. I simply changed my mind. I just don't want to listen to your suggestions for revision anymore."
Seeing the look in Isolde's eyes—like she was looking down at trash—and hearing the undisguised contempt in her voice, Lorenz forcibly suppressed the fury in his heart and threatened:
"Isolde! Don't forget your status!"
"The reason I am talking to you with such a negotiatory attitude is that I think you are a smart person. Don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!"
But this time, facing Lorenz's threat, Isolde didn't care in the slightest. With a scoff of disdain, she mocked:
"I just simply don't want a brainless maggot to occupy a nest that doesn't belong to it and take things it never deserved."
Lorenz, burning with rage, could no longer endure Isolde's undisguised mockery. His clenched fists creaked, and he glared at Isolde with gnashed teeth, speaking viciously:
"It seems Colonel Isolde is unwilling to be dignified on her own... Then let my subordinates help you become dignified!"
He turned his head directly toward his adjutant and the guard who was still standing beside Isolde holding the pen, shouting with incomparable anger:
"You two, help this Colonel Isolde, who is momentarily unclear in her consciousness, to wake up properly!"
Looking at Isolde again, only grim darkness remained in Lorenz's eyes. Immediately, he gave the only limiting condition:
"Just don't kill her!"
Watching the two fully armed soldiers, and conscious of herself having almost all her weapons confiscated, Isolde slightly closed her eyes.
In her memory, she confirmed that there would be no issues with the scheduled email she had left behind in advance—containing the truth about the past events—prepared to prevent the situation from devolving to this point where she couldn't tell Ghostfire everything she knew.
Her left fingers lightly tapped the recorder hidden under the button of her cuff.
She confirmed that once she successfully made her move, even if she died, the audio recorded from start to finish would be immediately sent to all military high officials and the Proxy Net.
This way, the incident would be characterized as Lorenz committing excessive homicide to force her into submission to steal credit.
Thus, the Obols Squad could be extracted from this matter as the subordinates of the victim.
Determining that these two final preparations were all in place, Isolde's right hand opened slightly.
The next moment, a miniature revolver had fallen into her hand.
And this was her final insurance.
This pistol could only fire three bullets, and its caliber wasn't large; hitting a soldier wearing armor would barely make them wince. But for Lorenz, who was right in front of her and who, never expecting to go into battle, had not worn any armor from start to finish...
This small-caliber revolver was undoubtedly a lethal weapon capable of killing him.
Although it was a great pity for Isolde that she couldn't send both enemies to hell before dying, taking one out now... wasn't too much of a loss.
It was just that, in this way, the remaining half of the vengeance would have to be left to her final team members, Ghostfire and Orpheus, to complete...
Clearly, she had found new bonds and was moving towards tomorrow, but now she could only drag them back into the past that was purely hell.
As a commander, she really was a failure...
Just as Isolde prepared to raise her hand and fire directly before the three people in front of her could react, a sudden voice interrupted everyone's movements.
"My, my, it's quite lively in here."
Accompanying the voice, the door curtain was suddenly lifted by a tall figure.
The arrival's extremely tall silhouette blocked ninety percent of the tent's massive entrance, but even so, the somewhat blinding sunlight of the midday sun pierced into the dim tent like a sharp sword. It was so dazzling that people could hardly open their eyes.
Casually tossing aside a soldier in his hand who looked a bit dead, the man who had thoroughly walked into the tent spoke unhurriedly:
"I'm actually quite interested in the topic you were just discussing. If it's possible, could you count me in?"
"I think I would be very happy to join."
____
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