This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 118: The Shelter beneath the Department Store Building

Chapter 118: Chapter 118: The Shelter beneath the Department Store Building

The next day.

Rhombus Lake’s eastern shore.

"Get ready!"

A loud and sharp voice echoed around the edge of the woods.

"Fire!"

The fuse was ignited.

Set up on a wooden stump, a large iron pipe burst into flames and white smoke. The shell turned into a dark shadow as it traced a beautiful parabola through the air and heavily smashed into the lake hundreds of meters away.

After a short wait, a column of water shot skyward, the spray scattering in all directions, accompanied by a muffled boom like spring thunder, rolling across the lake surface.

"Damn!"

"Who the hell is setting off explosives over there!"

"Damn mosquitoes!"

"My fish have all been scared away!"

The fishermen, who were bragging and chatting along the lake shore, launched into a tirade of curses. However, Mosquito, caught in his excitement, couldn’t hear them.

Ever since he had figured out how to produce nitric and sulfuric acids, his little workshop had been able to produce small amounts of nitroglycerin, and with some added plant fibers, he could even manufacture some nitrocellulose. With the solution of ethanol and ether, he could dissolve and gel it into quite a useful jelly-like explosive.

Though he still hadn’t unlocked the drying technology to granulate it into a solid form, it was already much stronger than the old black powder!

This shot alone must have been equivalent to at least 30 kg—maybe even 50 kg—of black powder!

"Hahahaha, nice! I finally did it!"

Mosquito, elated, threw a punch in excitement, hitting a tree trunk instead. It didn’t hurt, but he almost broke his hand.

It was a pity that sugar was in such short supply at the warehouse; so valuable it was nearly too expensive to eat, or else he could craft something even more badass using sugar and potassium fertilizer.

One shot wasn’t enough.

Using fire tongs, Mosquito removed the scalding shell and loaded another one, adjusting back to the previous angle to light the fuse.

Another thunderous boom followed.

This shell flew even further than the last, an extra hundred meters forward.

The explosion reverberated across the lake.

Nomads, coming to the lakeside to fetch water, were startled by the thunderous noise and stood frozen, staring at the water column shooting up from the lake.

"What, what is that?"

"A big gun?!"

"It should, it should be called a cannon... I’ve seen them at larger survivor bases, where they use these cannons against large Variants."

"The power is so immense, no wonder they can hunt Crack Claw Crabs!"

Unlike the amazed and admiring nomads, the fishermen could no longer contain their anger and, gripping their rods, stormed over from the lakeside.

"Shit!"

"Can’t you set off your explosives somewhere else?"

"You’ve scared all my fish away!"

"Exactly! It’s already damn hard to catch fish in this game, and now it’s even harder!"

Seeing the fishermen, led by "Less Bullshit," marching towards him with furious momentum, Mosquito quickly pushed his little cannon cart and ran away in a cloud of smoke.

...

Elsewhere.

Near the south side of the abandoned tire factory, inside a department store.

Five players were fiercely battling with the Variants that roamed the B2 level of the underground parking lot.

The radioactive source was located behind the door next to the B1 section elevator in the underground parking lot. This was their Nth time running this instance.

After several rounds of pulling, luring, charging, and focus firing, the Bull-Moose squad gradually wiped out the Eaters that Elena had drawn out and successfully trapped the "instance boss"—the Crawler—using a pre-laid trap.

Cooperating with his teammates, Fang Chang pulled back Dawn and, with a full-force shot, shot an arrow straight through the Crawler’s skull, successfully killing it.

Leaning against a concrete pillar, Night Ten took a deep breath, threw away his rolled-up machete, lifted his arm to wipe off some sweat, and cursed under his breath.

"Fuck! Finally cleared it! This Game shouldn’t respawn after we clear it, right? Hope a bunch doesn’t pop up again."

Old White and Wild Wind glared at him.

"Don’t jinx it!"

"Shut your mouth."

Night Ten shrank his neck and closed his mouth.

"It shouldn’t respawn, if it does a few more times, we might go bankrupt." Fang Chang walked into the Crawler, pulled out the arrow stuck in its forehead, gave it a glance, and threw it away.

It was clearly unusable now.

"Are you guys sure there won’t be any more creatures down here?" Elena, supporting herself against the wall, asked with a subtle expression as she walked over.

Night Ten chuckled at him, "Bro, don’t be scared, it’s all clear now."

Wild Wind gave a thumbs up, "Waiting on your word."

Elena: "Fuck! Aren’t you guys scared?"

Old White matter-of-factly said, "What’s there to be scared of, it’s not a horror game."

Elena: "..."

That made sense.

He didn’t even know how to argue.

After dawdling at the door for a while, Elena eventually went in with a crowbar and Dynamite for breaking doors.

It was a corridor, neither too wide nor too narrow, probably a spare warehouse before the war.

The rotting smell was suffocating, the floor covered with Eaters and Crawlers’ fluids, and unidentifiable fungi growing in the corners.

This dreadful environment might even make Mutant Cockroaches stay away.

Although she had dragged out and killed the last Crawler, Elena’s heart was still incredibly anxious.

The atmosphere here was too eerie.

He couldn’t help but recall the horror games he had played.

Is this supposedly a casual, fun game for relaxation?!

Fuck!

Fortunately, what he feared did not happen.

Using the light emitted by the VM and the scanned map, Elena smoothly reached the end of the corridor.

There was a rusty amalgam door there, and a corpse in a protective suit lain at the door. Yet, only bones remained.

There were no bite or tear marks on the protective suit, seeming that he had died before the Eaters took over and at least decades ago.

"The radiation level is getting higher... seems like the source of radiation is right behind this door."

The one lying on the floor must have been the owner of this small shelter. Stuffed in a backpack thrown aside were some cans, puffed food packets, and decayed remnants and mushrooms—supplies he must have scavenged from outside.

But for some reason, he died right at his own doorstep.

"Bro, don’t blame me."

Though very reluctant, Elena braced herself, stripped the quite intact protective suit off the skeleton, and put it on.

The air filtration system was broken.

But no matter.

He just needed to block part of the Gamma Rays. The rest relied on his Constitution skill’s resistance and regenerative bonuses. Hanging on shouldn’t be much of an issue!

Elena planted the Dynamite at the door, lit the fuse, and ran toward the exit of the corridor.

"Boom!"

Dense smoke from the explosion instantly filled the corridor. Waiting for the smoke to clear a bit, Elena returned to the doorway.

The amalgam door was still intact, but the beside concrete wall was blasted open, revealing its steel framework.

"Damn... that’s sturdy."

After much effort, Elena finally used the crowbar in her hand to clear the chunks of broken concrete at the damaged part of the wall and then inserted the crowbar and her arm through to pick open the bolt-type door locks one by one.

Luckily, there were no more protective structures.

With creaking noises, the thick amalgam door finally opened, with murky air carrying a stale smell rushing toward her.

Elena held her breath as she entered the room, turning off the dimly glowing VM screen and lighting the lantern she had brought with her.

The flame fluttered vaguely, gradually becoming clearer and illuminating the nearby space.

All indications pointed to the fact that this was indeed a small-sized shelter.

At least it used to be.

The shelter was small in size, and compared to Shelter No. 404, it could even be considered quite miniature.

However, unlike the large-scale official-backed facilities of Shelter No. 404, the layout of this small shelter was quite compact.

There were no buffer rooms with dual air locks and pressurization functions here—there wasn’t even an entrance hall.

Behind the open alloy door, directly opposite, were rows of shelves covered in moss.

Carrying the lantern, Elena walked into the shelter.

She carefully examined these shelves and found that above each glass vessel lined up were elongated light fixtures.

"Could it be... soilless cultivation?"

This area appeared to be a plantation zone, probably for growing vegetables and staple crops, while simultaneously improving the air quality within the shelter.

But after so many years, the water in the cultivation tanks had long dried up, leaving only a layer of dead moss and some dried-up remnants and curled plant fibers.

He couldn’t even tell what had been planted here before.

After checking the radiation index on the VM, Elena continued forward with her lantern.

Behind the plantation area was a row of real shelves.

And it was the items displayed on these shelves that made him widen his eyes in disbelief.

Copper ingots, steel ingots, aluminum ingots, lead... and a large quantity of metals that even her scavenging experience could not precisely identify, all neatly arranged.

In addition, there were also large quantities of non-metal materials like glass fiber, graphite powder, rubber products, hydraulic oil, lubricants, adhesives, and more.

There were even some liquid or powdered chemicals of unknown composition!

Moreover, these materials, unlike the junk scattered in the ruins, were perhaps oxidization-resistant and preserved quite well—at least they looked usable.

Beyond these crafting materials, on the last row of shelves, Elena discovered some unfinished tools and parts, as well as five gleaming gold ingots and ten silver ingots!

As she saw this, her eyes involuntarily bulged.

"Damn..."

She’d struck it rich!

Clearly, the owner of this shelter must have been a tycoon, very possibly the owner of this department store or at least a major shareholder!

And this person’s awareness of crisis and hands-on abilities were extraordinarily strong.

Immediately adjacent to the cargo container was a DIY workbench.

Apart from basic tools like screwdrivers and wrenches, it was also connected to guide rails, guide plates, mold balance devices, and hydraulic overload devices. Located next to the workbench were various interchangeable cutters and processing modules.

The entire workbench barely used any advanced electronic technology and wouldn’t be affected by an EMP in the least.

And maintenance was practically a breeze!

Even in a power outage, a handcrank could replace the motor to drive some of the processing modules on the workbench!

Compared to those high-tech tools that became useless outside civilized society, these durable and long-lasting "primitive tools" instead provided a greater sense of security.

Seeing this, Elena had one thought.

This workbench was way better than the one at the weapon shop owner’s place!

"Struck it rich, struck it rich... now to get to work."

Not lingering here for long, Elena, in search of the radiation source, continued forward through the door behind the workbench.

The area behind the door was likely the living quarters.

According to the continuously rising radiation index on the VM, the radiation source should be inside.

Stepping cautiously into the living area, Elena immediately saw the dormant sleep cabin positioned directly opposite the door, against the wall.

The door of the sleep cabin was wide open and appeared to have been broken for a long time.

From the opened hatch and the scattered parts and tools nearby, it seemed someone had attempted to fix it but failed. This likely led to a severe electrical accident, eventually causing the shelter to lose power and the ventilation system to cease operation, ultimately suffocating the people inside.

Next to it, Elena found a single bed, with two skeletons lying flat on the sheets.

From the size and shape of the skeletons, both individuals appeared to be adult females, but their specific ages were unknown.

Considering the body found at the entrance and the only cultivation chamber in the room, Elena had come up with at least four possibilities regarding "who the owner of the shelter was" in her mind.

However, none of them mattered anymore.

For a player eager to complete the quest, the story of the dead was utterly insignificant.

After a careful search, Elena quickly found the radiation source that had set her VM beeping non-stop, on a facility resembling a generator.

It was a pitch-black cylinder, inserted into a circular slot.

Based on the storyline of "Wasteland OL," she guessed it was some sort of civilian model fusion battery?

Or rather, the "fuel rod" of a cold fusion generator?

Regardless of what it was supposed to be in the settings, it had clearly broken down, leaving only a damaged shell and radioactive residue with nowhere to go.

Strictly speaking, nuclear fusion should be clean, as its byproduct is helium.

However, the cleanliness here wasn’t absolutely harmless, just relatively safer compared to the radioactive waste from nuclear fission, which could linger for hundreds of thousands of years. The nuclear waste from controlled fusion wasn’t that troublesome to deal with.

After all, any material exposed to high-energy neutron radiation could develop "induced radioactivity." However, the radiation dose from such waste would be much smaller, usually posing a "century-level" hazard, and might vanish after a few centuries.

To put it bluntly, as long as you’re not holding the "broken nuclear battery" in your hand, there generally won’t be much of a problem.

In this regard, "Wasteland OL" was quite accurate.

Just like now.

Elena had just held the battery in her hand for a moment when she felt like she was about to die...

"Seriously, I think I might still be savable."

After tossing the radiation source away and returning to the faces of the Buffalo Horse Team, Elena, with a bloody nose, said solemnly.

Wild Wind glanced at her and shook his head.

"No hope."

Bloody nose like that, and still able to stand and talk, only possible in the game.

In reality, she would have been out cold on the ground.

"Did you hear that? Even the physics teacher says you’re beyond saving," Night Ten chuckled, patting her shoulder and winking, "Don’t struggle, brother. While you can still walk, hurry back and heal up. We’ll gather the loot for you, don’t worry, you won’t miss out!"

Elena grimaced.

"I just want to know, does recycling the body reduce the respawn CD?"

Fang Chang laughed too.

"How could it, haven’t you read the official setting collection? The respawn CD isn’t a death penalty. But you’re in luck that your VM is still intact, otherwise, you’d have to buy a new one. By the way, if you’re worried you won’t make it back to the base, you can leave your VM with us, to avoid half-way collapsing, losing both your corpse and VM, that would be really troublesome."

Elena: "Damn! You’re not worried about me, but my VM! Does this cold world have no warmth left?"

Night Ten rolled his eyes.

"Isn’t this out of concern for you not wasting money —"

"Alright, quit yapping," Old White coughed to interrupt Night Ten’s chatter and then turned to console Elena, "We can give you an extra 5% of the dungeon’s profits, should compensate for your loss over these three days. If there’s a chance for cooperation next time, we’ll still consider you, how about that?"

5% was quite generous, given that the dungeon was discovered by the Buffalo Horse Team and most of the damage was dealt by them, consuming a lot of ammunition and supplies.

Being a joiner midway through, Elena was originally entitled to only 10%, so an additional 5% was more than fair.

Old White’s words finally made Elena feel like there was still a wee bit of warmth left in this cold world.

With a face full of tragic heroism and flicking her nose blood, Elena took off her VM and handed it solemnly to Old White.

"Tell Little Fish, just say..."

She collapsed to the ground with a thump, words only half said.

Night Ten couldn’t help it and burst into giggly snorts.

Wild Wind turned his head, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Looking at the blood stain on his sleeve, Old White frowned deeply, finally sighing.

"I’ll move him outside to the tent first."

"Let’s drag him back together later."

-

(Thanks to the reader "Reader 1434843101910900736" for the three chief rewards~~~~~~)