After Harry left in high spirits, Sean leaned back in his chair and looked up at the empty space above him. He recalled a theory he had heard in his previous life: once most people reached a certain level, the room for further advancement grew smaller and smaller. Unable to break through the ceiling above their heads, they could only stagnate.
Having arrived in such a dangerous yet fascinating world, personal strength was naturally crucial. It could protect one from harm and oppression, preserve one's dignity and bottom line, but strength alone was not enough—Sean had always been trying to sketch out the rough contours of this world. After gaining power, he had once considered doing whatever he pleased, treating everything as a game and enjoying himself to the fullest.
But he soon abandoned that idea. Even with the Sentinel Force in his body, which had yet to be fully developed, plus that system with virtually no presence, he still did not seem capable of acting without restraint—who knew whether, beyond those movie characters, some unreasonable comic-book figure might suddenly appear? The Celestials? The Living Tribunal? Or even some omniscient, omnipotent, unimaginable higher being?
Rather than recklessly making a name for himself and then crashing headfirst into the ceiling, he might as well slowly accumulate strength until he shattered that invisible barrier restraining him. Sean smiled faintly. He remembered a tactical battle royale game from his previous life; the ones who often survived to the end were those sly bastards who kept their heads down and never exposed themselves.
"Should we continue expanding the public-opinion offensive online?" A detached voice sounded in the office. Sean was not surprised. The Red Queen, Skynet's alternate account, constantly monitored Umbrella, while Skynet itself overlooked the entire planet.
"Stop for now. If we go