Six Golden Apples.
Sacred artifacts.
Brotherhood, Assassin League.
Temple, Knights Templar.
Isn't this just [Assassin's Creed]?
Locke raised an eyebrow.
The next second.
Locke froze slightly, looking at the Golden Apple in his hand. He blinked. Activating the Golden Apple required the price of a life as a sacrifice?
Why didn't I need that?
...Wait.
Energy.
Locke thought back to the images of the first time he activated the Golden Apple. The energy that flooded out the first time exceeded Locke's imagination.
Fortunately.
Locke's energy also exceeded the Golden Apple's imagination.
Locke thought about it and realized it made sense. Before he obtained limitless energy, activating the Golden Apple likely indeed required the price of life energy to be triggered.
Good grief.
Locke felt a wave of lingering fear. Fortunately, at that time, he was busy tallying his rewards. By the time he was fiddling with the Golden Apple, the Supreme Talent had already been credited. If he had been careless, wouldn't he have nearly withered away?
But...
Locke looked at the golden orb in his hand, still unable to connect this thing with an apple: [Speaking of which, shouldn't apples have leaves? Where are the leaves? This thing has no leaves; no matter how you look at it, it has nothing to do with an apple. Instead, it looks like a stone egg.]
Could the leaf have been plucked off by Sloan?
Locke blinked, considering the possibility. After all, Sloan had likely possessed this Golden Apple for quite some time. If he had searched for half a day and found no way to use it, trying to eat it to see if it had any effect was within expectations.
A few days later.
After finishing a day of daily tasks and joyfully obtaining 2000 Achievement Points and 2000 Potential Points, Locke was in his study after dark. He was on a video call with Gwen, doing homework together via remote connection.
They were preparing for the competition in Maine in December.
Just then.
The satellite phone Locke had placed nearby rang.
Gwen, who was video chatting with Locke, looked at Locke as he cut off mid-sentence and asked curiously: [What's wrong?]
Locke looked at Gwen in the video and smiled: [A call came in, I'll take it.]
Gwen didn't suspect anything: [Okay.]
Locke stood up, grabbed the satellite phone, and walked out of the study.
Connection.
[Victoria?]
After connecting, Locke spoke with some suspicion as he heard the voice on the other end. Wasn't it said that Victoria had been captured? What happened, did she escape?
Or did she sell out her client list?
This was survival instinct. When one's life is at stake, what secret can compare to one's own?
Only...
Victoria's first words on the other end were: [Sorry, Peerless.]
Locke raised his eyebrows. He walked from the second floor to the bar downstairs. Hearing those words, he paused his movement of taking a drink: [Hmm?]
[I was captured by the organization I originally betrayed.]
[I heard.]
Locke resumed his movement of drinking. Seemingly thinking of something, he said jokingly: [Is your original organization leader a guy who wears a one-eyed patch and likes to wear a trench coat?]
Red had said Victoria might belong to this mysterious organization.
Locke just asked in passing and didn't take it seriously.
But...
Victoria seemed somewhat surprised: [How did you know?]
[...Really?]
[Yes. However, Hardman wears an eye patch, but he prefers wearing a beret rather than a trench coat. Although, on the day he caught me, he was indeed wearing a trench coat.]
It was confirmed!
The mysterious organization was S.H.I.E.L.D.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
An eye patch was basically enough to confirm that the "Hardman" in Victoria's mouth was Nick Fury, the director of that legendary secret organization, S.H.I.E.L.D.
Put it this way.
When people see a green giant, they know it's Hulk.
When people see Iron Man, they know it's Tony Stark.
And when people see that guy wearing an eye patch, insisting on a pirate outfit look, it's definitely Nick Fury.
Just as Hulk can only be Bruce Banner's transformation, the eye patch can only be worn by Nick Fury.
Only...
Locke, holding his wine glass, walked out onto the balcony and gazed at Central Park across from the Star Tower. He asked Victoria on the other end of the phone with some curiosity: [How did you get out?]
Would Nick Fury let a defected Victoria go so easily?
[People from the Roman Brotherhood rescued me.]
[...I'm listening.]
[Sorry, they knew I had business dealings with you. They rescued me and wanted to know from me how to find you.]
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed Victoria, who looked sweet and lovely, sat on the private plane that came to meet her. She sipped the red wine in her mouth, a smile on her face, while her mouth said "sorry."
Locke was not surprised at all: [It's fine, as long as you're out.]
It was still that same saying.
When life is almost gone, no secret is more important than one's own life. Locke would not do this himself, and naturally, he would not demand others do it.
It was also normal for the Roman Brotherhood to know about this.
After all, Victoria Knox was an arms dealer. And for an arms dealer, the only advertisement she can run is to tell new clients who her old clients are.
Originally, Locke's reputation among Victoria's client base wasn't very loud.
He was just an assassin.
But who told Victoria Knox to like letting people buy on credit? When facing clients who wanted credit, in order to ensure they wouldn't fail to pay back, she would certainly bring Locke out to show off.
So...
Locke lowered his head and smiled: [It's fine, I can understand.]
If you sold me out, then so be it.
Peerless Assassin, this person essentially does not exist at all. As long as he doesn't put on his sunglasses, even if the opponent flips the entire Earth upside down, it's impossible to find him.
Unfortunately, Locke's thinking was off.
Victoria Knox on the other end said: [They insisted on a useful clue, so I gave them that little friend of yours...]
Locke narrowed his eyes upon hearing this: [What little friend.]
[Locke Broughton. That little friend of yours, right?]
[What?]
[Sorry.]
Victoria Knox continued to apologize, her tone sweet: [If I didn't give them an account, they were going to make me give them an account. They are very strong, Peerless.]
[I am also strong.]
[Wha...]
Locke interrupted directly: [Goodbye, Victoria.]
After saying that.
Locke hung up the phone decisively. At the same time, in his friend database, he blacklisted the sweet-looking Victoria Knox.
I gave you some further information to increase our friendship, not for you to sell me out.
You sold out Peerless; as a friend, for self-preservation, I can understand and won't blame you.
But selling out Locke is not right.