While Al, Cesar, Jin, and Ellie were trying to return to the 15th Blood Ring, a clandestine gathering unfolded on the top floor of New York's most exclusive skyscraper.
The world's wealthiest individuals had convened within this opulent space—a group of anonymous industrial barons known solely to those within the highest economic circles. They had gained a reputation for funding the birth and death of whole nations.
Their wealth and influence rendered them virtually untouchable. Not only did they own an enormous amount of real estate, but they also owned the companies that manufactured most of the world's products and held sway over countless countries.
Unfortunately for them, in the aftermath of the Vanishings, much of their global influence waned due to the vanishing of many of their CEOs and political puppets.
These men of such magnitude were accustomed to answering to no one. Yet, on this particular day, their collective gaze was fixed upon one man who paled compared to them regarding wealth, power, or influence.
The pale, bearded man appeared unassuming—thin, of average height, and in his mid-forties. He was quietly observing the eight men before him, their expressions rife with anxious anticipation.
When the vanishings began, a wave of desperation washed over the world, prompting these hidden individuals who pulled the strings of the world's governments to seek answers. However, when they turned to the governments they had controlled for hundreds of years, they were devoid of answers.
They had to turn to the brilliance of those few great minds whom their system had ostracized. Men and women who had dedicated their lives to pursuing knowledge and reason untainted by the allure of wealth and political power—those far in the fringes.
These intellectual luminaries were the first to recognize the catastrophe the vanishings would create. They possessed the foresight to anticipate the collapse of governments and the rapid rise of religious factions.
Among these exceptional minds, Robert Sullivan emerged as a beacon of swift action and unparalleled intellect. Despite his modest appearance, he commanded the attention of the eight corporate magnates.
"Gentlemen," Robert began, his voice calm and his speech precise. "I comprehend the anguish that grips your hearts. Some among you have lost loved ones. Some of you would surrender everything you have to bring them back. Know that I, too, have experienced such sorrow."
Robert's thick beard partially concealed his mouth. After his opening words, he strode forward, positioning himself beside a whiteboard.
He sketched a tiny machine labeled 'tracker' on the whiteboard with a small marker. He recounted a company that had developed miniature trackers initially intended for animals but had also been secretly sold to affluent families with elderly relatives suffering from dementia.
Within the scientific community, Robert Sullivan commanded immense respect. Esteemed colleagues from around the globe, each an expert in their respective fields, held him in high regard.
He was the first to recognize the pattern of vanishings, sounding the earliest alarms to the unfolding crisis.
Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Robert established a robust network, maintaining constant communication as he diligently observed and analyzed the phenomenon in real-time.
By the end of the initial month, he had created the World Committee for the Departed (W.C.D), which began as a coalition of scientific minds united by a shared mission to make information regarding the unfolding events more accessible to the public.
He aimed to disseminate as much information as possible about the vanishing and warned about the potential repercussions of losing so much of the population.
Pointing at his illustration, Robert shared how one of the trackers implanted in an elderly man had vanished along with the man. Robert had contacted the company that sold the trackers and attempted to locate the missing person using their satellite-based tracking technology.
Astonishingly, the elderly man and the tracker had vanished entirely from the planet.
As Robert divulged this information to the eight men before him, a faint smile pulled at his lips.
One of the eight tycoons suddenly stood up and interrupted Robert, voicing his confusion. "I fail to grasp how this discovery is beneficial. It tells us nothing," he expressed with a note of frustration. Robert stroked his beard before responding.
"It tells us everything we need to know," he replied, his tone laced with conviction. "To begin with, it confirms the undeniable truth: all those who have vanished are unequivocally deceased."
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, and the eight men sprang to their feet, their expressions contorted with anger and panic. Threats were hurled at Robert to stop funding the W.C.D. and replace Robert with someone else.
"What is the purpose of funding an organization called the World Committee for the Departed if there are no departed to be brought back?" one of them bellowed in frustration.
Robert patiently waited for the commotion to subside before addressing them once more. "I'm certain all of you are well aware of the incompetence your unbridled greed has bred within our governments."
"Meanwhile, the ranks of religious institutions swell as they interpret these events as prophecy. You slowly bought into your bullshit, thinking you were all-powerful and beyond reproach, but even gods bleed and die." Robert seared the end of his words with tempered anger.
He slowly walked closer to the man who was threatening to replace him. "The loss you experienced, that which was so mercilessly torn from your grasp, served as a brutal awakening. You are still human. Whatever force orchestrated this remains unknown, and none of us are safe. If I were you, gentlemen, I would forget about those who have vanished and worry about us who remain."
A palpable sense of chaos and dread descended upon the eight men. Their cores were shaken to their very foundations, a primal terror.
"Wait, Dr. Sullivan, we may have acted hastily. Please proceed. We are all eager to hear the rest of your presentation," one of the men implored.
Unsurprised by their sudden change of tone, Robert continued his exposition. "Very well," he responded, his voice steady and composed.
"We observed a striking correlation between the disappearances and the concentration of individuals in psychiatric wards and hospitals, specifically those who were suffering from chronic depression. It appeared that whatever had targeted humanity had a disproportionate inclination toward our most mentally vulnerable. This hypothesis gained further validation as we witnessed a significant decrease in the number of vanishings when the masses sought solace in religious institutions, embracing newfound faith, hope, and beliefs."
Robert gestured toward a photograph affixed to the wall depicting a series of gruesome slayings. However, one photograph stood out. It displayed the remnants of a grotesque, massive, humanoid-like arm. The arm resembled the arm of the beast imprisoned by the Dawn-keepers.
"At present, the vanishings seem to have come to a halt. Unfortunately, we are now facing a new form of assault, described by certain religious extremists as 'the second seal of God.'"
As Robert continued to unravel these revelations, each man grappled with the implications of a foreign enemy attacking Earth.
Robert directed the group's attention towards the photographs of the grotesque humanoid arm. "This was discovered in a remote cabin nestled in the Swiss mountains. Tragically, the entire family residing there had been brutally slain. However, outside the cabin, we found compelling evidence of a fierce battle that had taken place."
Grabbing the photograph and hanging it out to be passed around, Robert continued. "The creature somehow survived and fled the scene after losing its appendage. Through our examination, we discovered that the skin's molecular structure alone is five times denser than our bones—a form of organic steel, if you will."
Robert paused, allowing the significance of his words to sink in. "The arm displays unmistakable signs of deliberate body augmentation and genetic manipulation. Astonishingly, the "Devil's arm," as we have coined it, is still 'alive' and undergoing regeneration despite being in a secure laboratory specifically designed to contain it."
The eight gentlemen were left in a state of awe and bewilderment. Robert pressed on. "We intend to reverse engineer the arm, which undoubtedly promises to revolutionize our understanding of our biological sciences."
"Although we are caught between the clutches of incomprehensible forces, I believe we can find a way out," Robert concluded, his voice filled with conviction.
The confusion in the room was palpable as the men struggled to grasp the meaning behind his words. The oldest men of the eight disagreed, arguing that aligning with the invading devils would be the world's best chance of survival.
Robert locked eyes with the old tycoon, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your perspective, and it is valid," Robert replied, "But consider this: if we simply align ourselves with the strongest force without fully understanding its intentions, we risk sacrificing our autonomy and becoming mere pawns in a game we do not fully comprehend."
The room fell into an uneasy silence as the men pondered his words.
Robert lowered his voice and added. "I'm not proposing blind opposition but a strategic and measured approach. By harnessing the power of reason, science, and unity, we can uncover the weaknesses of these forces and wield that knowledge to our advantage."
"What do you mean? This is far beyond anything human. Our best chance of survival lies in aligning ourselves with the most formidable power," argued the group's eldest member. Nevertheless, Robert persisted in responding, "Wrong! If this were truly beyond our capabilities, we would have been enslaved or destroyed already. But that's not the case. As I mentioned, these events are incredibly rare—perhaps in the single digits. We're like an infestation of roaches, too numerous to eliminate."
"The numbers of the enemy must be relatively small. Because of this, we possess the advantage of time. With a common adversary and as our world crumbles, we have a unique chance to build a new world where reason and science lead our civilization. It's the next evolutionary step for our species, a leap forward. Though the specter of death lies beneath us, we have no choice but to leap."
After his impassioned speech, Robert lowered his head and let out a big sigh before announcing. "Due to all these factors, I'm resigning from the W.C.D."
"Damn you, Dr. Sullivan! Do you think this is some kind of game?" Marco Dubois, one of the eight, shouted angrily. "Calm down, Marco. Let the doctor explain his decision to us," another of the eight interjected.
"Thank you, Mr. Hao," Robert Sullivan acknowledged the man with gratitude.
He paused briefly before resuming. "My team lacks the necessary manpower. We need more scientists—many teams, each dedicated to specific research areas, led by highly qualified individuals. Our focus must shift from investigating the vanishings to developing methods to protect and defend ourselves against the imminent threat we face."
"We require the establishment of an institution rooted in science, impervious to the influence of greed or power. It is either that or a slow descent into a world dominated by paranoid spiritual beliefs, undoing all the progress our species has achieved and leading us to our inevitable annihilation. That concludes my presentation."
With those final words, Robert abruptly left the room, leaving his colleagues frustrated and deep in contemplation.