"That bastard Alkhein! Is he playing around? There's a gap of over 30 seconds between him and fourth place!"
Inside a shadowy room lit only by the flicker of massive display screens showing the real-time broadcast of the Aegis Grand Prix, a group of old men had gathered. Though their ethnicities and appearances varied wildly, one distinct feature unified them all.
Every one of them wore a suit adorned with a golden apple emblem, complete with two small leaves sprouting from its stem—the unmistakable crest of the Eden Company.
"At this rate, not only will we lose our top four standing, we could suffer catastrophic losses!" one of them growled, anxiety sharpening his tone like a blade.
"That's not even the worst part," another chimed in, shaking his head gravely. "Because of those Knights of Camel-something bastards, even the betting pools are in disarray! We're going to lose trillions just on payout margins alone!"
