I am the creator of New Life on the Earth
Chapter 174: The Ultimatum

Chapter 174: The Ultimatum

Chapter: The Ultimatum

Inside the steel-walled room known as the Central Vista, the air was heavy with tension. The black-suited agent, a member of the Secret Service, stood rooted in place.

His face betrayed frustration as he took a deep breath to steady himself.

Opposite him stood Ranger Logan, his towering frame radiating authority and an almost unnerving calm.

Breaking the silence, the agent finally spoke. "I have direct orders from the top," he said, his tone firm but edged with urgency.

"We must accelerate the development of the detection device as quickly as possible."

Logan’s expression remained unchanged. His dark eyes bore into the agent’s as he replied, his voice flat but resolute.

"I didn’t tell the President to make that announcement in front of the entire nation."

Agent is very surprised to hear Logan’s words and he looks at Logan with very astonished eyes, he is unable to understand why Logan is so careless about his nation.

The agent stiffened slightly at the retort but maintained his composure. "This isn’t the President’s fault," he countered, his words clipped. "We’ve received intelligence that other nations are rallying their Power Holders. Do you understand what that means?"

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. "What does that have to do with me?"

The agent’s frustration began to bubble to the surface. He leaned forward slightly, gesturing with his hand as he spoke.

"It means," he said sharply, "that we’re falling behind. In our country, only two or three Power Holders are working for the government—and even they operate as they please. The government spends more time cleaning up their messes than benefiting from their abilities."

His voice rose slightly, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "Meanwhile, our neighbor, Falcon, has all their Power Holders registered under government control. They’re preparing, Logan! And what about us? Half of our Power Holders are hiding in the shadows, and the rest have started attacking civilians outright. This is chaos!"

Despite the agent’s impassioned plea, Logan remained unmoved. He watched the agent with an unreadable expression, his body language as calm and unyielding as a mountain.

The agent faltered under Logan’s indifference, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Of course this doesn’t bother you," he said bitterly.

"You were kicked out of the army before you developed your powers. If it weren’t for that stroke of luck, you’d have been court-martialed for sure."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Logan vanished from his spot. In a split second, he reappeared directly in front of the agent, their faces mere inches apart.

The agent’s breath caught in his throat as he felt a sharp, cold sensation near his neck.

His eyes darted downward, and his heart nearly stopped. Logan held a blade against his throat—a weapon with a sleek black hilt and a shimmering silver edge.

The blade reflected the harsh white light of the room, its surface gleaming with an almost otherworldly intensity.

Logan’s movements had been so fast, so precise, that the agent hadn’t even seen him draw the weapon.

He could only stare in frozen shock as Logan’s dark eyes bore into him, their intensity sending a shiver down his spine.

The room, lined with pristine white tiles that reflected every glimmer of light, seemed brighter than ever, and the blade’s sharp edge glowed like molten silver under the fluorescence.

Logan spoke, his voice low but laced with a lethal edge. "Be grateful that my blade didn’t go any further. If it had, your body would be in one place and your head in another."

The agent’s lips parted, but no words came out. He felt his throat tighten as the gravity of Logan’s words sank in.

Before he could recover, Logan’s voice rang out again, colder and more serious than before. "If you ever speak casually about this topic again," Logan warned, his tone like the crack of a whip, "I won’t spare you next time. I don’t care how high your rank is or how important your government connections are."

Logan held the agent’s gaze for a moment longer, his expression unwavering. Then, with a swift motion, he pulled the blade away from the agent’s throat and stepped back.

As soon as the blade was gone, the agent instinctively reached up, pressing his hands to his neck.

He felt a faint warmth and realized that a thin line of blood had appeared—a shallow cut, barely enough to cause harm but more than enough to terrify him.

The agent’s legs gave out beneath him, and he sank to the floor, his back hitting the smooth, cold surface of the tiled wall. His briefcase clattered to the ground beside him, forgotten in the chaos of the moment.

He sat there trembling, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried to process what had just happened.

The faint red smear on his hands seemed to glow under the bright lights, a stark reminder of how close he had come to losing his life.

Logan, meanwhile, stood a few steps away, his blade lowered but still in his hand.

He didn’t spare the agent another glance, his focus returning to the glass-walled chamber at the center of the room.

Around them, the scientists and soldiers who had witnessed the exchange remained silent, their faces carefully neutral. No one dared to intervene.

The agent sat on the floor, his body trembling and his mind racing. His earlier confidence had been shattered, replaced by a cold, creeping fear.

Logan, on the other hand, stood tall and composed, his presence dominating the room. He slipped his blade back into its sheath, the faint sound of metal sliding against metal echoing in the stillness.

As the room returned to its previous rhythm, the tension lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break. The agent knew one thing for certain: Logan was not a man to be trifled with.

And with that, the Chapter came to an end, leaving the room bathed in harsh white light and an uneasy silence.