Mark, who was driving, seemed to want to say something. He appeared to want to ask what had happened while he was unconscious, and where the supposedly important scarab had gone. But when Schiller fell silent, the entire atmosphere froze. Instinct told Mark that he had better not make a sound right now.
In the pitch-black rainy night, an equally black car, reflecting only faint glimmers of light, sped down the road, spraying water in its wake.
Between the skyscrapers, the speeding car was like a bullet fired from a gun barrel. With a screech, the sound of brakes at high speed was ear-piercing, and the tires left blackened tracks on the ground. Outside the Sanctum Sanctorum on Wall Street in New York, Natasha stepped out of the car.
Bang! Natasha slammed the car door shut and hurried through the doors of the Sanctum Sanctorum. From the street, the dim avenue was dark except for this one brightly lit place.
Completely unlike the silence outside, the Sanctum Sanctorum was bustling. Even standing at the reception desk in the first-floor hall, Natasha could hear the commotion upstairs.
The female receptionist behind the desk gave her a gentle smile. Before Natasha could show her credentials, she nodded and said, "Hello. The Sorcerer Supreme is waiting for you on the third floor."
Natasha nodded as well and quickly headed for the stairs. As soon as she reached the first-floor landing, a red ribbon floated down and formed an arrow, guiding her upward.
As she passed through the second-floor stairwell, Natasha glanced inside. The office area was in an uproar.
Telephones flew through the air, flashing one moment and spitting fire the next. Quite a few terrifying phantom forms of Demon Gods floated overhead, as if arguing over the phone was not satisfying enough,