The First King wasn't coming.
The doctor had learned of the series of foolish things those forces had done in their panic.
Expressionless, he looked at Aerte, who lay in a tank soaked in various medicines meant to alleviate genetic collapse.
They could carry him over there.
But what use would that be?
The Destroyer's first attack had been the most likely to succeed. Since even that attack had failed, the ones that followed would be even less likely to work.
"Doctor!!!"
A laboratory subordinate hurried over. "Someone wants to speak with you. They're from the military."
The doctor didn't need to think to know what they wanted.
They had discovered that they couldn't reach Aerte, so they had come to him to see whether he could contact him.
They had found the right person, but unfortunately, even finding him was useless.
The military refused to let up and repeatedly pressured the doctor.
After all, the doctor was the person most likely to be able to contact Aerte.
Stalling was useless. The situation was so critical that in a few minutes, they might come charging in with tanks and artillery.
Although the laboratory's location was concealed, it had ultimately been registered with the military. It could not be hidden for long.
Sure enough, another threat soon arrived. Its meaning was clear: if the doctor did not hand over Aerte's contact information, then this laboratory would no longer need to exist.
The doctor could only contact them.
"You should gather the nation's high-level superhumans, or all of its military forces, as soon as possible. There may still be a sliver of hope of winning."
"Where is the 'King'? Make him come out! Isn't he the First 'King'? He can definitely deal with those King-class superhumans."
"He can't come."
"What do you