Night fell over the world, and the night sky once again blanketed the land of North America.
Amid the tide of people, with travelers dragging suitcases through security and waiting for flights in the busy airport terminal, a private jet lifted its wheels from the runway.
It departed the lake city beneath the cover of night.
The broad seats of understated, noble black material, the large sofas whose quality and expense were obvious at a glance, the carpets, lamps, coffee tables, and paintings—all of them were exquisitely luxurious.
In the ice bucket within the glass display case of the liquor cabinet, champagne bubbled with golden fizz.
This spacious area, larger than the living rooms of most ordinary homes, was so lavish and refined that it was hard to believe it was inside an airplane. Its construction cost hundreds of millions of US Dollars, evoking the feeling of standing at the pinnacle of wealth with everything in one's grasp.
Yet seated amid all this, the young man paid it no attention.
Without turning on the lights, he quietly watched the sea of clouds outside the window descend from the heavens, lost in thought.
The matter in Minneapolis was over.
News of the fire at Lake Shore Factory made the headlines that morning. The blaze had caused a severe collapse.
What had originally been underground, along with the traces of last night's battle, had all been transferred and erased after its existence was exposed and that peerless Zero Rider descended—as was only natural.
This also gave Eisenm Medical Insurance Company stronger grounds to immediately begin conference negotiations with Future Conglomerate and have the bank halt the transfer of funds.
The enormous sum of ten billion US Dollars had already entered the recovery process.
Although the factory itself had been destroyed, shipping records