Mutation 7

...But it did not matter.

He knew where they would end up in the end.

Even if he was only destroying these outlying hideouts for now, it was enough to inflict real damage on them.

Cut off their hands and feet, turn them into isolated islands. That itself was part of the plan.

Orphee consoled himself inwardly.

With every stronghold destroyed, the Klein Faction's room to operate shrank, and moving their supplies and personnel became more difficult.

Once all their hiding places had been uprooted, they would have no choice but to retreat into that final core nest.

When that time came, they would be trapped like turtles in a jar.

The process might be slower, but the outcome was inevitable. Orphee had plenty of patience for it.

...It was just that Chairman Zala was far too long-winded.

Whenever he thought of Patrick Zala's face, twisted by rage and anxiety, Orphee felt a visceral disgust.

Almost every few hours, Zala would call. The content was always the same: reprimands and demands for haste.

"Orphee. Why have you not caught them yet? Is the intelligence you provided even accurate?"

"Get rid of the rebels quickly. The nation's security cannot tolerate any threats. I need results—immediately, at once."

"What is going on? You cannot even catch a single remnant of the Klein Faction? I assigned you ZAFT's finest soldiers. Are they all useless fools? Or are you deliberately stalling for time?"

Patrick Zala, PLANT's supreme leader, gave no thought whatsoever to the broader strategic picture. All he saw were immediate results.

He could not understand a strategy of gradual compression and peeling away layer by layer. What he wanted was a dramatic public arrest, one he could use to display his authority to the people.

He needed traitors' blood to consolidate his