bookpower Chapter 450 Wrong Timing
Chapter 450 Wrong Timing
"Alright, everyone, listen up!" one soldier barked, his tone firm.
"Before we start, we need to go over some rules. This is a serious event, and we need your cooperation."
"First off ...You can't ask just anything. We've got a list of approved questions to make sure we keep things on track. We want to highlight the Behemoth's strengths, not dive into sensitive topics "
Another soldier chimed in, his demeanor a bit more relaxed.
"Yeah, and make sure your questions focus on the positive. We're here to inspire hope. Think about how we're preparing for challenges and what makes this ship so special."
The journalist nodded, taking mental notes.
"Also, we're on a tight schedule," the first soldier added.
"Each station is only allowed to ask two questions. Stick to your time limit. If you go off script, we'll have to cut you off. No hard feelings, just business."
Journalists exchanged glances, knowing full well that they had no choice but to comply. There was a clear agenda behind this event, and nobody was going to be allowed to mess it up.
The interview needed to send a message of hope, not doubt, and everything about this press event was carefully controlled to ensure that.
With that, the Green Valley soldiers stepped aside, allowing the Behemoth's military personnel to take the stage.
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Their uniforms were different from the standard .They wore sleek, black matte suits that covered their entire bodies.
On their backs, compact oxygen pumpers hummed softly, designed for combat in environments filled with miasma.
The unmistakable logo of Tempest Fort adorned the chest of each soldier: a jagged lightning bolt slicing through a dark storm cloud.
It was sharp and bold, a symbol that immediately caught the eye and spoke volumes about their identity.
This design wasn't just for show; it was a commemoration of the word "Tempest," a nod to the power and chaos of a storm—perfectly embodying the city reputation.
Instead of rifles, each soldier sported two pistols strapped to their legs, complemented by a pair of blades secured at their backs.
While they might appear less intimidating than traditional firearms, those guns were anything but ordinary.
Each one was designed to tear through metal as if it were paper, boasting advanced technology that enhanced their lethality.
For them, it wasn't just about the attention.
This was their work on display, the result of long hours and hard labor.
They had built and maintained the Behemoth, and now it was their moment to stand in front of it, proud.
Next came the hunters, stepping into the spotlight with an air of detachment.
They didn't seem thrilled to be there, almost like they were reluctant to share the stage with the others.
The Hunter Association had always valued its independence, after all.
Looking closer, their kimonos was nothing like the usual attire; instead, they had a metallic sheen that caught the light just right.
Reign squinted, his eyes taking in the details.
The fabric was made up of extremely small metallic beads—almost like sand—fused together, giving it a high-tech appearance.
This wasn't just any outfit; it was designed for performance.
The combination of traditional style and advanced materials was a very interesting mix.
As for their katanas, they were just as unique.
The hilts had a futuristic design, sleek and polished, some even featuring neon lights that pulsed gently .
'Wow, I feel like a frog in a well,' Reign thought, taking in the scene before him.
'I can't believe how vast the gap is between other cities and Tempest Fort. '
If he had encountered them back when he was still a Demon Lord, he might have chosen to hide, viewing such a powerful line up as too dangerous to confront directly.
But now, standing among them, he felt no threat at all.
'Cool technology, but unfortunately... you're all too late,' Reign mused, shaking his head slightly.
'If you had sent this force earlier, you might've had a chance to kill me. But now?'
He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, finding their timing almost pitiful.
They came at the worst possible time.