Julio shook his head slowly and said, "They 'returned,' but when I found them, they were neatly arranged in metal boxes. The Foundation wanted to transport them away through those boxes."
Everyone present frowned simultaneously, pondering why the Foundation would do such a thing.
"I can only think of one reason why the Foundation wants to collect humans. They want to use them as experimental subjects," Charles concluded.
"We're not sitting here to think about such trivial matters. We're here to brainstorm on how we can defeat the Foundation. Do you have any ideas for that?"
The room instantly fell silent. It was a difficult question to answer.
The Foundation had already made their might known to all. If Charles hadn't thought of using Fhtagn as a deterrent, they definitely wouldn't be here to talk about how to deal with the Foundation.
The gap in strength between the Foundation and them was too great.
If the denizens of the Subterranean Sea, who had just experienced two consecutive world-ending crises, were like an infant wielding a wooden sword, then the Foundation was like an adult man with an assault rifle in hand.
The difference was too big.
As time ticked by, Charles was starting to feel irritated. Everyone present still couldn't offer a decent solution. Charles tapped on the table with his steel fingers to attract everyone's attention.
"Let's call it a day. First of all, let's deal with the currency overhaul that we talked about before. We must ensure that the Foundation can no longer influence the Subterranean Sea's economy.
"As for any ideas on dealing with the Foundation, tell your advisors to think about it and offer suggestions. I hope we find a reasonable solution to this issue.
"I'm sure all of you are aware that we're like a leaking showerhead compared to the steel showerhead that is the Foundation."
Having said that, Charles stood up, rubbing his sore neck.
But before he could walk away, someone unexpected appeared in front of everyone.
The unexpected figure was covered in a wet and damp red robe. There were writhing tentacles all over his chin, and his mucus-covered octopus head looked disgusting as it undulated gently.
A figure with such a bizarre appearance could only belong to the zealots of Fhtagn, and the figure before them was none other than Elder Octett of the Fhtagn Covenant.
"Mr. Charles, I liked the solution that you came up with at the time. Actually, we wanted to do the same, but you beat us to it," Octett said.
It was a compliment, but Charles didn't want to hear it. Especially when it was from Octett, who seemed to be perpetually gargling thick phlegm. Every single word from his throat sounded unpleasant due to his jarring voice.
They had yet to find a decent way to deal with the Foundation, but Charles was already feeling drained at the thought of finding countermeasures against their powerful enemy's terrifying cards.
While he was in deep contemplation, two small hands reached out from the side and wrapped around Charles' arm. The hands belonged to none other than Sparkle. She tilted her head and rested it on Charles' shoulder.
"Daddy, don't worry. Wait until I've grown a bit more... just a bit more..." Sparkle muttered.
Charles reached out and rubbed Sparkle's head. "Are you still helping your mother?"
"I guess you can say that. Mommy is talking to Dawn One right now. She wants to know just how exactly Dawn One was made through its memories?"
"She wants to know just how Dawn One was made through its memories? How would that process be in Dawn One's memories? Is your mother okay?" Charles asked.
"Well, Dawn One's consciousness was born from a living human being. I think her goal is to extract the memories of that human being, who had essentially become Dawn One." Sparkle replied.
That would be memories from a too-distant past. It seems that Anna has gotten much stronger last time I checked, Charles thought.
Sparkle looked at the side of Charles' face, which was covered in tattoos that had encroached on his face from his neck. "Daddy, what happened to your mind? How come we can no longer read your thoughts?"
"I have no idea, but N8's memetic infection should be the reason behind it. Your mother has already examined me, and she found no abnormalities in my personality, character, and memories.
"Our plate is already full, and since it's not causing any problems, I think we should just pretend that it doesn't exist for now," Charles replied.
The sea breeze carrying the scent of the ocean blew across them, gently lifting Sparkle's hair. Sparkle tucked her hair behind her ear, and several young boys surreptitiously staring at them from afar were instantly stunned.
Sparkle was like a fairy in their eyes.
Charles' steel finger tapped on the balcony's railing, and his invisible tentacles gently turned the heads of those young boys, forcing them to turn to look elsewhere.
Charles raised his prosthetic limb, and the grappling hook that he hadn't used for a long time popped out of his palm.
He aimed it at the awning above him and fired. The chain then retracted, pulling Charles onto the roof.
The sea breeze had been blowing seeds and dust onto the roof. He could already see weeds on the bare roof, but Charles didn't bother cleaning them up as he sprawled out with his back on the weeds.
Charles stared at the hole in the canopy above Hope Island, which allowed the sunlight outside to illuminate the island.
In the face of the quandaries deep inside his mind, Charles unwittingly fell asleep.