At 3:00 PM London time, 2:00 PM in Switzerland, the experiment at the Europa Large Hadron Collider Laboratory began. After several days of preparation and Sunday's precision calculations, the test proceeded smoothly. Just as William had hoped, a thumb-sized cluster of antimatter formed—held in place within a specially designed vacuum energy tube.
Inside the experiment center, when the dim gray mass of antimatter appeared on-screen, everyone erupted in cheers of excitement.
Lounging in his garden, basking in the winter sun, William listened to Sunday's report and chuckled. "Once the collider on Planet X17 is completed, produce a hundred antimatter warheads. Then find a chance to drop a few and see how powerful they really are."
"Understood, SIR. Task created."
Since the experiment had succeeded, it was time to put it to actual use. Otherwise, it would just be another paper tiger.
But before that, there was something even more important. "Has all the data from the Europa collider been wiped?"
"Wiping in progress. In 71 seconds, the preloaded auto-deletion protocol will eliminate all data and itself, leaving no trace behind."
"Good," William smiled. "Destroy the antimatter from the experiment."
"Understood, SIR."
But just seconds later, Sunday suddenly sent William a video. William slipped on his smart glasses and saw an old man in a lab coat carefully place the vacuum tube containing the antimatter into a toolbox. Then, taking advantage of the confusion caused by the data-wiping worm Sunday had embedded earlier, he followed a predetermined route and left the collider center with an accomplice.
Thankfully, Sunday had anticipated this and immediately deployed spider drones to follow the mole's vehicle, with surveillance drones in the sky. William asked, "Is the vacuum tube with the antimatter under your surveillance?"
"Of course, SIR. Antimatter is far too dangerous and unstable. I'm monitoring it constantly. If needed, I can remotely detonate it."
"We'll hold off on that for now."
As William pondered who could have stolen his antimatter, he watched the mole drive out of the city—only to be killed by the person picking him up. At that moment, a ringtone rang out.
Ring ring, ring ring...
Half an hour later than expected, the phone finally rang.
"William, we have a problem," came the urgent voice of Richard Castle, England's Prime Minister. "I just received a call. The antimatter from the experiment you authorized for our scientific team has been stolen. Worse still, all the data was wiped."
"Oh?" William said with a sarcastic grin. "And you're only telling me now? Let me guess—someone suspected I staged this whole thing to steal the antimatter myself?"
Richard knew it was impossible that William hadn't already learned of the situation. "But the data deletion… that was your doing, right?"
"Of course it was. Or would you rather other nations also be able to produce antimatter?"
Having admitted that, William asked, "Have you identified the mole?"
After a pause, Richard said, "Cork Hardin. Scientist and priest. Police found him dead in his car about ten minutes ago. But no sign of the antimatter."
"So why the call?" William asked mockingly. "To ask me to return the antimatter? Or to hand over the production data?"
There was a long silence before Richard sighed in defeat. "What do you intend to do with something that can wipe out the entire planet?"
William burst out laughing. "Nothing much. Just planning to throw a few fireworks on some people's heads."
Hearing the worst possible answer, Richard exclaimed, "You already have miniaturized red mercury bombs. Why create something even more devastating?"
"Don't pretend you don't want it too. And besides, my target isn't humanity."
That line made Richard tense up. "You're insane. You're seriously thinking of starting a war with extraterrestrials? Can you even handle the consequences if you lose?"
"Calm down," William interrupted Richard's hysteria. "The biggest difference between antimatter bombs and red mercury is the blinding light produced upon detonation. I don't have to say who that light is meant for, do I?"
Richard, who already knew about wizards, vampires, the mummy princess, and the demon god Set, went pale.
"Is… is there another demonic incursion?" forcing himself to stay composed, he asked anxiously, "Wait for me—I'm coming to your house right now."
Less than twenty minutes later, a three-car convoy pulled up outside William's estate.
Reporters stationed on Garden Street quickly recognized the Prime Minister of England, and charged forward like a pack of rabid animals, cameras snapping wildly.
They shouted all kinds of questions as the security detail had to step out of the vehicles just to clear a path for Richard's car.
Once out of the vehicle, Richard rushed toward William, who was standing calmly outside the manor. "What's going on? What made you feel the need to develop a strategic weapon specifically for demons?"
William didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked, "Anyone else coming with you?"
"Who else would you like?" Seeing William calm and collected eased Richard's nerves. Then he realized, "So it's not a full-scale invasion yet?"
"Not yet," William shrugged, "But who knows? We can't wait until Hell's demon lords and gods come pouring in before preparing for war, can we?
And if we don't have weapons they're afraid of, we won't have any bargaining chips, now will we?"
At that, Richard's expression turned grim. "You've found a way to throw these weapons into Hell? Or has your magic advanced far enough to travel there freely?"
"Something like that," William said casually, motioning for Richard to walk with him. The two strolled through the garden path, circling around a row of hemlock trees. As the two security guards tried to follow—
Whoosh.
A shadow flashed in front of them. It was Black Ghost Raizang, dressed in an obsidian ninja armor, blocking their path.
Hearing movement, Richard turned back and saw the dark-armored ninja, while William acted like nothing happened and kept walking.
Richard could only wave off his guards.
The two men looked at each other helplessly. Then, as they turned their eyes back to the ninja—
He was gone.
"Bloody hell…"
The guards exchanged a look with Richard, then hurried off in the opposite direction to search. But apart from the line of hemlocks used to shield the estate from paparazzi, there wasn't a trace of Raizang left.
Seated across from William at an outdoor table, Richard took a deep breath, accepted a wine glass, and said with a smile, "I've heard your estate is the most secure in London. I didn't believe it before, but after seeing that ninja, I do now."
He took a sip, then asked cautiously, "That ninja bodyguard of yours—have you ever thought about setting up an academy in England to train people like him?"
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