Kicked Out I Unlocked My Ultimate Boss Mode novel Chapter 47

**Chapter 47: Counterattack**

In the dimly lit confines of the room, an oppressive atmosphere loomed, thick with a palpable sense of tension. One man, his skin a sickly shade of yellow, and his hair as dark as the night sky, erupted in a fit of rage that seemed to echo off the walls. “Baga!” he spat, the word slicing through the silence like a knife, laden with frustration and disbelief.

With a furious flourish, he hurled his keyboard across the table, the clatter resonating ominously in the stillness that followed. He shot up from his chair, his frustration spilling over as he barked in English, “Those Dracovia idiots dared to mess with me!” His voice was laced with disdain, his eyes ablaze with a tumultuous mix of anger and disbelief.

His gaze locked onto the screen before him, heart racing as he replayed the moment he first detected the invading IP address. A smirk had been plastered across his face then, a swell of triumph filling his chest as he boasted to his colleagues about the brilliance of his trap. He envisioned it as a masterstroke, a clever ruse designed to ensnare the unsuspecting techs from Dracovia. Once they stumbled into his meticulously laid trap, the core data for Project Genesis would be his to seize.

But what unfolded was far beyond his wildest imaginings.

Instead of falling victim to his cunning scheme, the invading IP danced around the trap, slipping past it with a mocking ease that belied his intelligence. It lingered nearby, almost taunting him, as if poised to dive in at any moment.

In that fleeting moment, he had still been grinning, convinced that the other side was blissfully unaware. Just one tap, he thought, and he would wipe them out effortlessly.

Yet, in the next instant, a torrent of programs surged forth, one after another, as if the attacker’s scripts had an uncanny ability to replicate endlessly. He deleted one, and to his horror, two more sprang forth in its place. He eradicated two, and four more emerged, relentless and unyielding.

Soon, the swarm overwhelmed his defenses, a chaotic tide that left him feeling utterly defeated. It was sheer mockery, a clear indication that the Dracovia team was acutely aware of the trap he had set the night before.

With a growl that emanated from deep within his throat, he barked, “Go! Tell that fool to move now. We have to get the Project Genesis core data!” His frustration was palpable, yet the room remained silent, his words hanging in the air like a desperate plea that went unanswered.

No one responded; everyone was absorbed in their frantic efforts, fingers racing across keyboards in a desperate attempt to keep the trap alive. The prospect of sneaking through another vulnerability to steal anything felt like a distant dream, slipping further from reach.

Suddenly, a sharp crack reverberated through the room, and every monitor flickered twice before plunging into darkness. The man’s face drained of color as panic surged within him. “Baga!” he shrieked, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear, repeating the word like a desperate mantra.

Across the room, Helen’s fingers finally stilled, the frantic typing ceasing as she watched her screen return to normal. A wave of relief washed over her as she confirmed that the critical sections were stable, the rest of the operations set to continue automatically or managed by her teammates. Exhaling slowly, she allowed herself a moment of respite, a flicker of hope igniting within her.

“Okay. It’s done,” she announced, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.

A gasp broke the tension. “No way. This cleanup speed is faster and cleaner than our top-tier system!” someone exclaimed, disbelief coloring their tone.

“The traps in the core modules are gone. All alerts are cleared!” another voice chimed in, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“Wait. That emergency fixer from last night… was it this girl? She predicted they’d attack again and set up cleanup and intercept frameworks ahead of time?” a colleague pondered, admiration evident in their voice.

“We located the source point. The coordinates are with the Department of Defense. They’ll wipe the whole group out soon,” someone added, the atmosphere shifting as hope surged through the room.

Cheers erupted as the alert lights transitioned from ominous red to a reassuring green, a wave of relief washing over the team, lifting their spirits from the depths of despair.

At the main control panel, Philip’s eyes, weathered with age, shimmered with unshed tears of gratitude. “Good job… Ms. Walcott, Mr. Garcia… you both did amazing,” he praised, his voice thick with emotion, a testament to the weight of their victory.

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