Tigers do not walk with sheep.
A monster's friend is naturally considered a monster as well.
That much was common knowledge, but Berenke, as an "infiltrator," seemed unaware of such common sayings "aboveground."
In fact, as an "unplanned" "infiltrator," Berenke not only chose an exceedingly ordinary "container" but also made it a priority to distance himself from other "infiltrators."
That included Kandater, who was in charge of the plan.
Even Kandater wasn't aware of its existence.
It was the fish that slipped through the net.
All for the sake of just in case.
And now was the time for it to make a move!
The last resort in the Sabie Aliens' "decapitation" plan!
With this in mind, Berenke drove towards the outskirts.
Upon noticing the name "Jason," he had started to investigate the man, and luckily, the private detective he hired was quite skilled.
Consequently, results of such investigation came swiftly.
A quite detailed investigative report had been delivered to his hands the night before.
The report meticulously outlined everything from Jason's arrival in Cherry City to his exposure as a "Mystical Side" personality, including the friends he had made and so forth.
It even touched upon Edward's affairs, of which he had some understanding.
As for those three friends?
A destitute widower living off apartment rentals, whose dog had died just days ago.
A middle-aged man at the company, agreeable to everything but abandoned by his wife and belittled by his daughter.
And a guy who drifted from factory to dock, claiming to be a detective yet never completed a single commission.
Just a bunch of losers.
In the same vein as Jason, who claimed to be an author yet couldn't produce any real work.
But unlike Jason, who also hid the identity of someone from the "Mystical Side," these guys were losers through and through.
However, even the most wretched of losers could be useful.
"Incite Jason's rage!"
Berenke sneered at the sight of the suburban residence not far away.
Clearly, Jason was worried about these "kindred spirits" and had them move to the outskirts to avoid the battle that might unfold tonight.
But the more he did so, the more valuable they became to kill.
Berenke stepped out of his car, carrying a submachine gun and several magazines—weapons he had gone to great lengths to acquire through special channels, nearly depleting half of this identity's wealth.
The rest of the wealth?
Naturally, it was paid to that fairly well-known detective.
At this moment, it was penniless.
But that didn't matter.
Following this would be the moment to abandon this persona and return to its previous noble rank in the presence of these primitives, these slaves.
Thinking this, Berenke quickened his pace.
He raised his hand and rang the doorbell.
"Hello, is John home?"
"I am March, the previous tenant of 3A Apartment, 202."
"I called earlier, hoping to talk to you about some items I lost. My car broke down, and I just managed to get here, sorry for the inconvenience."
All of this was true.
The previous tenant of 3A Apartment 202 was indeed a man named March, who had lost items and had called John—this was all part of its orchestrations, and while constrained by an ordinary "container," it could still threaten a regular tenant.
And after the threat?
Best to kill them off.
Dead men tell no tales, right?
Unfortunately, there was not enough time, or it could have added another trophy carved from a skull to its collection, a treasured item acquired by the identity of an "infiltrator."
Inside the room before it lay even more spoils of war.
Berenke aimed the gun's muzzle at the door.
It was ready to pull the trigger the instant the door swung open.
However, to its surprise, the door didn't open, only a voice came through.
"The door's unlocked, come on in."
The door is unlocked?
Indeed, as expected of a group of losers, their level of vigilance was pitifully low.
With a sneer emerging in his heart again, Berenke said, "Alright."
Gun in the right hand, he reached for the doorknob with the left, about to push the door open.
But the instant his left hand touched the doorknob—
A flash of electricity streaked by.
Streams of electricity as thin as a pinky sparked over its body.
Almost instantaneously, Berenke smelled the scent of roasting meat.
Then darkness fell before his eyes.
Accompanied by the sound of Berenke's body falling to the ground.
Standing before them was the Sword Shield Gatling.
Three Sword Shield Gatlings were positioned crosswise, covering every angle of the doorway with their firepower.
From the second floor, a 107mm Type 95 single-tube rocket launcher was ready to fire.
John walked out from behind the rocket launcher, without turning off the infrared autonomous sensing of the Sword Shield Gatlings, stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the fallen Berenke with a puzzled expression.
"Is this the guy who was investigating us before?"
Brian, merging effortlessly with the camouflage walls and holding a grenade launcher, walked out and asked concisely.
"Yeah, it was this guy. One of my apprentices has already sent the photo, it was him who secretly funded the detective apprentice to investigate us, and moreover, purchased weapons."
McCaul, emerging from beneath the floorboards with the drone bomber controller in hand, nodded with certainty.