This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 541: Too Late, The Organism

Chapter 541: Chapter 541: Too Late, The Organism

"Bang!"

The man by the window gently blew away the wisps of smoke from the barrel of his gun.

As he watched a person collapse in the crowd not far away, a slight smile played on his lips; he withdrew his revolver and used his upturned pinky to gently adjust the slightly open curtains.

Screams and roars overlapped each other, blood red taking the place of the sunset blocked by the clouds... indeed, this was the true color that belonged on this street.

The militia, however, were unexpectedly weak; he had thought more people would die, but many bullets just whisked past their scalps.

Was it because he hesitated?

He didn’t believe, though, that the mob would spare those people.

The corners of his mouth curled up in a sinister smile.

The real show had just begun!

A languid female voice came from the bed not far away,

"Really, what terrible taste. Couldn’t you have done it discreetly?"

The man shook his head, his words leisurely,

"Too slow... You know that feeling? When a movie gets to the climax but suddenly pauses. The barrel of dynamite is right there, the fuse already inserted, but no one dares to light it... The Alliance is the same, those noble lords the same, Mr. Fang Ming the same."

His name was Rhine, from the Bugra Free State, a professional mercenary and also an Awakener. The woman behind him further away was Serite, an assassin from the Dagger Gang in the slums outside the city.

The Bugra Free State had been planning in the Giant Stone City for a long time.

Sigma was very interested in something here, something that could help them break free from the control of the Secret Country when it mattered most.

The shelter of the Grand Canyon was both a blessing and a curse.

Those noble people didn’t care what the little people thought; they only looked at the blueprint on their table, then directed things through a window.

Sometimes they were right, but not always.

They needed that weapon!

So, when Elder Sid wanted to eliminate Spielberg, the Dagger Gang readily offered their knives. Unexpectedly, they were close to success but lost their grip at the last moment, their knife disappearing along with Spielberg.

This was too bizarre.

"I’m worried about something," said Serite, looking at the man from afar, her voice lazy yet carrying a hint of concern.

"What’s that?" Rhine said indifferently.

"The City Lord, that Fang Ming," Serite spoke offhandedly, "according to our investigation, he knows everything that happens in this settlement; he must have seen you shoot."

Rhine smiled carelessly and waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah, no need to worry about that, you would know if you really investigated... he only takes action under two circumstances: to help the people here with the ’Mutated slime fungus,’ and matters related to the Post-War Reconstruction Committee."

As for why,

Because that’s how it works.

One cannot greedily expect a gun to fire itself, discern who is good and who is bad, decide who should live and who should die.

The original residents created it but also dreaded its strength.

After all, humans themselves are fickle creatures, and those who designed AIs had no absolute assurance that the old operating systems would forever meet the needs of the new generation. The new generation didn’t trust the operating systems designed by the older generation either; after all, if children always listened seriously to their parents, humanity would probably still be in the Stone Age, with no Prosperity Epoch.

Indeed.

Humans themselves don’t even know where they’re headed, so how can they expect AI to figure out where the end is and pave the road to it?

A society entirely managed by AI will inevitably turn into a pigsty; no matter how humanlike, an AI will never become human. The people of the era before the Prosperity Epoch already proved that wanting to have it both ways is untenable.

At that moment, a faint noise suddenly came from the stairs outside the door.

The sound was so faint that it was almost imperceptible without careful attention, but Rhine noticed it immediately.

He stopped talking abruptly, narrowed his eyes toward the door, put down the revolver, and picked up the Submachine Gun with the drum magazine from the table.

The female assassin, who also heard something, fell silent, wordlessly drawing the Dagger and pistol from under her pillow.

The footsteps at the door grew clearer and clearer, step by step approaching them, drawing near like a knocking on the door.

There was no attempt to conceal that sound; it stopped in front of the door.

Without a doubt, whoever it was had come for them.

And at this time, no one would possibly come to clean the room...

"Who’s there?"

Rhine called out cautiously.

No one answered.

Believing in the principle of striking first, he pulled the trigger without hesitation, and the muzzle burst into a string of fire, the tearing sound and orange-yellow bullets suddenly shooting toward the door, puncturing a series of bullet holes in the wooden door.

Almost at the same instant, the damaged door panel blasted apart, the flying splinters assaulting him like artillery shells.

"Damn it—"

Rhine awkwardly ducked and rolled to the side of the window, catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye of the figure standing at the doorway.

Her face was hidden by a black visor, her left hand holding an Explosion-proof shield, and her right hand wielding a short-barreled submachine gun; her Shield and Breastplate both bore her number—X-16.

"Go to hell!" Serite’s eyes flashed viciously as she charged at her like lightning, pulling the trigger of the gun while raising the dagger.

The bullet, overloaded with dynamite, created fine spiderweb cracks on the explosion-proof shield, and X-16 stood still, raising the submachine gun to aim at her.

Almost simultaneously, Rhine also took aim at her, shield in hand.

"Da da da—!"

The orange-yellow trajectory of bullets heated the air in the room like rain, and Serite rolled away sharply, dodging the hail of bullets coming from both directions, cursing out loud in shock.

"Do you want to kill me along with it!"

"If I didn’t back you up, you’d already be dead."

Rhine retorted gruffly, moving towards the window while maintaining fire suppression on that X-16.

The figure, unmoved, holding the shield, suddenly threw away the short-barreled submachine gun and flicked out a half-meter-long stick with a shake of the arm.

Rhine’s pupils contracted slightly, a bad premonition creeping into his mind, and without hesitation, he rammed through the window with his shoulder and flipped out.

"I’m pulling out; take care of yourself!"

Serite’s face changed.

"I—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the blast wave scattered her half-spoken words.

The flames burst suddenly, engulfing both her and the attacker in an instant; that person had hidden dynamite in the room!

But how had he brought it in?!

There was no time to ponder this question anymore; after all, Awakeners were human too.

Finally, the aftermath of the explosion settled, leaving a charred room steaming slightly.

Looking at the nearly charred corpse on the ground, X-16 shook its head and discarded the two-piece shield, tapping its forehead with an index finger.

"Target one dead, one escaped..."

"I am damaged; I need repairs."

At the same time, Rhine, who had landed on a street with a thud, let out a pained sound, struggling to stand up from the ground and limping into the nearby alley.

Although he had hidden some dynamite in the room, he couldn’t be sure if that suspected cybernetic being had been killed.

He needed to leave this place immediately.

What a shame for that woman named Serite.

Although he had to beware of the dagger hidden under her pillow, Rhine could be sure she was a good woman.

"Inner City... The weapons controller should be in the Inner City..." Retreating to another nearby street, he looked towards Inner City and bit his teeth, muttering darkly to himself, "I have to find a way to get in."

...

History always marches on amidst countless coincidences.

Major upheavals are not always shrouded in great secrets; sometimes, it’s as simple as two rats fighting and knocking over a lamp.

The battle in the motel room was just an insignificant episode, ignited by gunfire, but the turmoil it sparked still continued in the streets.

The whole Giant Stone City was in chaos.

At the entrance from Outer City to Inner City, soldiers wearing exoskeletons had set up shooting barricades and placed roadblocks to disperse the crowd.

The Melvin Family was squeezed at the gate of Inner City.

They should have gone in already, but now a serious problem had arisen—the youngest, Alyssa, was missing.

No one noticed when she disappeared.

At the sound of gunfire, everyone panicked, running towards Inner City, fearing stray bullets or being caught by mobs scurrying like cockroaches.

Perhaps she just tripped on the road and would get up and continue running soon.

Hopefully, that was all.

Kishu gave the old butler a beating and sent him with six servants back the way they had come to look for her with orders not to return until they found her.

Worried, Woffiel paced back and forth, glanced at his watch and mumbled under his breath.

"Voting is about to start... we can’t wait any longer."

It was getting dark.

His father hadn’t returned yet, likely a failure.

But Woffiel hadn’t really held out much hope anyway.

Giant Stone City tried to bind the Alliance with debt, but in turn, the Alliance held the noose around their neck; this duel required someone to die, and unfortunately, they lost.

That man indeed had a compassionate side, but it seems everyone here has selectively forgotten how those Alliance settlements came to be.

Each city.

A living monument.

Of course, weren’t they the same?

The family would have to rely on him from now on.

Woffiel clenched his fists.

Genesis slumped in the arms of her best friend, Bonnie, tears streaming down her face, eyes swollen red, and she choked back sobs.

"Alyssa, my Alyssa..." Where have you gone? Come back to Mommy. You can do whatever you want from now on, Mommy won’t talk about the newspaper again."

Bonnie gently patted her friend’s back, speaking softly to comfort her,

"I’ve already asked my brother to help you look for her – everything will be fine."

Her brother, named Russell, was a Centurion in the second thousand team and was currently outside maintaining order. Upon hearing the news, he had already dispatched a hundred-man team to search for Alyssa, vowing to bring her back safely at all costs.

Bonnie believed everything would get better,

Whether it was Alyssa,

Or this Survivor Settlement.

Kishu gritted his teeth, his gaze struggling for a while.

In the end, he made the bravest decision of his life - braver than when he had fled the Settlement with his tail between his legs,

"I have to find her!"

Upon hearing these words, Woffiel grabbed the lunatic, yanked him close, and glared at him furiously,

"Have you lost your mind?"

Kishu glared back at him with the ferocity of a mad dog,

"You’re the one who’s lost their mind! She’s your sister!"

"So what if she’s my sister!" Woffiel raised his voice again, his nose almost poking Kishu’s face as he shouted, "Just because she’s my sister, should we all wait here for death?"

When Genesis heard the word "death", she fainted, and Bonnie caught her in her arms, glaring indignantly at Woffiel.

The kid really had no filter.

Looking at Kishu, fuming with rage and fear, Woffiel’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and he released his grip, pushing Kishu on the shoulder,

"Go on, I won’t stop you."

Kishu staggered to steady himself, out of breath as he looked at his brother with a mixture of surprise, anger, and a little fear.

Woffiel stepped closer to him, eyes locked onto Kishu’s, and suddenly, he smiled.

"There might be a few guys amongst those mobs who recognize you."

Kishu swallowed hard,

"What do you mean."

"It doesn’t mean much," Woffiel said nonchalantly, "You haven’t forgotten, have you? The girl from five years ago, the old man, their whole family, and that fire. They are truly dead, but they had neighbors, neighbors of neighbors – guess how they’ll treat you?"

Kishu turned deathly pale, no longer able to utter his intentions of searching for Alyssa, even the courage to look back had been drained from him.

That was a hurdle he could never overcome in his heart.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten about those people; he even thought about compensating them, but how can you compensate the dead?

There’s nothing to be done.

Build another Outer City to let everyone live a little better, perhaps? Let it be seen as... a handout from Lord Kishu.

Furthermore, he had heard that Cr was something that could improve everyone’s lives, without all the issues of chips and not even needing a central bank... He didn’t fully understand the deep principles of it, but he was willing to bring this novelty back for everyone to use.

But now it seemed too late to mention it.

Seeing that lovely Alyssa disappear, along with the rag doll he had handed to her, Kishu finally felt a hint of fear.

How would those people who hated him, hated them, treat Alyssa?

He dared not think about it.

Watching his ashen face and legs trembling with weakness, Woffiel’s gaze showed a hint of contempt as he spoke slowly,

"You really should have listened more to Father. You fool, you shouldn’t have come back here. You and Alyssa are both idiots; you are an idiot in a different sense. Do I need to spell it out for you!?"

"You should have stayed in the Ideal City indulging in your daydreams, and she should have sought the hardship she dreamt of in the Alliance."

He grabbed the young man by the collar, his expression twisted,

"Follow me."

"If you don’t want to die."

...

In the gloomy and cluttered alleyway, icicles hung from the eaves, and the snow that no one had bothered to clear covered the uneven pavement almost reaching the edge of the boots.

Stumbling through the alley, Alyssa’s eyes were filled with helplessness, wandering, and anxiety, her frozen red right hand tightly clutching the rag doll, her quivering little mouth exhaling mist.

"Mommy... Brother..."

"... Where are you?"

Not crying out was her final act of defiance.

She wanted to yell, but she dared not make too much noise.

Intuition told Alyssa that this Settlement was no longer the safe place it used to be, where even a lost kitten would be found by a kind-hearted Mercenary.

If discovered now, she might really die...

The time rewinds to one hour ago.

The Inner City alarm sounded, and her second brother had finally returned to meet up with everyone. The family hurriedly fled towards the direction of the Inner City.

She was supposed to stick close to the family, but the snow was just too heavy.

As they passed a small alley, she accidentally stumbled and fell, her whole body face-planted in the snow, her hairpin also falling out.

That was the gift her father had bought for her during the celebration.

Subconsciously, she swept away the snow and picked it up from the ground. However, when she looked up again, everyone had disappeared.

She tried to shout out for her mom and brothers, but the noise around her was too loud. In the distance, there were gunshots and explosions. Her cries were like cotton thrown into a fire, not even a wisp of scorched smoke to be seen, while the fire burned more and more fiercely.

The towering buildings blocked the Inner City, and she, too frightened to stop, could only run blindly through the alleys, several times ending up in dead ends.

The familiar Giant Stone City had suddenly become unrecognizable, the complex interweaving of streets had turned into a labyrinth. But she couldn’t blame the people who made the streets too complex; she should blame herself. These little alleys were so close to her home, and yet she had never set foot in them.

But there was no time to think about that now, Alyssa walked forward helplessly while silently weeping.

Even though she was unsure if this was the direction leading to the Inner City.

Like the angry people who were unsure whether what they were doing was right, the survivors of the settlement went uncontrollably insane.

Especially when the gunfire started, everything changed, and nobody cared about the burning houses anymore.

People no longer fought the fires, they even wished the blaze would grow stronger, best to burn everything down so they could start anew.

Some noise suddenly came from the adjacent alley, and Alyssa immediately froze, hastily hiding behind a pile of broken boxes.

Almost less than half a minute after she hid, a group of men in tattered clothes passed in front of the broken boxes and turned into the neighboring alley.

Alyssa held her breath, not daring to make the slightest noise.

Suddenly, a surprised voice came from the outside.

"Hey, there’s a woman from the Inner City here!"

Alyssa’s heart leapt to her throat, her eyes filled with panic and despair.

But she quickly realized that they were not after her, but rather a woman lying on the ground in another alley.

The woman sat collapsed in the snow, apparently having fallen just like herself, her handbag lying nearby with several large denomination chips and some cosmetics spilling out.

As the men approached, her face showed fear and then plea, retreating while she begged.

"No! I, I’m not a resident of the Inner City! You’ve got the wrong person, I... I’m just an employee at the bank."

The man with a beard chuckled coldly, his face as cold as the snow and ice.

"Bank? That’s not a good place."

It wasn’t long before others joined in the clamor.

"Bank... the place I hate the most is you guys!"

"You’re so capable, aren’t you? What are you afraid of? Ha ha."

The woman knelt trembling in the snow, begging.

"No... don’t... please let me go, go find the real nobles."

"You say you’re not a noble lord from the Inner City," the man with a scar on his mouth glanced at the handbag on the ground playfully, "but that handbag, is it made of Claw of Death skin?"

He was a Mercenary.

He wouldn’t mistake what the skin of Claw of Death looked like.

"Chips with a face value of a thousand!" a man behind her bent down, picked up the plastic pieces scattered on the ground, then held them high as if he found a treasure, exclaiming with surprise, "Guys, a thousand-point chip! This isn’t the money poor folks use!"

The woman’s face revealed an expression of despair.

The man with a knife scar above his mouth looked down at her with contempt in his eyes.

"Do you have anything else you want to explain?"

She couldn’t speak.

She knew these people were determined to humiliate her, to find joy in her misery, to vent their anger on her.

So no matter what she said, they were sure to pin a noble’s hat on her, and even if she tried to take it off, they would keep it firmly on her.

She simply closed her eyes in despair, hoping that this ordeal wouldn’t last too long...

Some people watched in silence, and most were actually silent. Conscience still resided in the hearts of most, but they were also hesitating.

Why should they?

Why had it always been them enduring?

When the noble lords bullied them, they never held back. Now that they finally mustered the courage to start a fire, were they to worry about it burning too hot?

Why should they!

Scurrilous language began to rise.

"Ha ha, I heard that the clothing of the nobles is made of Devil Silk!"

"Why not try it out, what if she hid a Black Card?"

Watching the expressions on people’s faces, the bearded man who first troubled her frowned, feeling something amiss, and spoke up.

"Hey, guys, I feel it’s a bit too much... we might have really found the wrong person, nobles wouldn’t work at the bank, she might really just be—"

"Shut up, you spineless thing!" the man with the knife scar narrowed his eyes and glared at him, "If you’re not interested in what’s coming next, just get lost."

The few people following by his side immediately responded by shouting.

"Exactly!"

"We don’t have cowards like you in our team!"

"Get lost! Coward!"

The bearded man was still trying to argue, but he couldn’t figure out how to express himself, managing only to blurt out a sentence.

"Keboer would never lay a hand on the innocent! You’re going too far!"

The man with a knife scar on his face said impatiently,

"Hah? Keboer? What the hell is that?"

"Stop—!"

A piercing shrill shout suddenly rose, quieting the entire alley as though a bucket of cold water had been poured on a sizzling hot brazier.

People turned their heads to look at the little girl standing at the entrance of the alley.

Being stared at by so many eyes, Alyssa felt her calves getting weak, but she still mustered up the courage, gripping her rag doll tightly.

That tall, big Manager had said she had a pair of clever eyes and that she would become an outstanding person.

She understood their anger.

But they were crossing a line, the chaos was spiraling out of control, innocent people were getting hurt, and if this continued, they would become true rioters!

And their ideals, their demands, everything about them would become the shame of the Survivor Settlement.

She had to stand up.

To stop them before it was too late.

"You..."

Alyssa gathered her courage, ready to say something while people were still willing to listen to her voice. However, no sooner had she opened her mouth to speak a word, than she was interrupted by an exclamation.

"It’s Alyssa!"

Looking at her young face, the woman kneeling on the ground suddenly cried out in surprise.

The joy on her face completely erased any traces of despair; she seemed to come back to life, stumbling to her feet.

Pointing at Alyssa, she said vehemently,

"Alyssa! The Melvin family’s young daughter! I can’t mistake her, I work at the bank! She is an Inner City resident, she has that Black Card!"

The hysterical shouting echoed in the narrow alley, silencing the street soaked in the snowstorm.

Those pairs of eyes made Alyssa’s limbs feel icy cold.

The rag doll dropped to the ground.

Her complexion turned pale, without trembling.

Just like a lifeless corpse...

...

At the Militia Group’s base, people’s hearts were unsettled.

From a while ago, the thousand team had lost contact, and it was rumored that Thousands of leaders Wallace had gone missing.

Rumors circulated that they were dispersed because some softhearted fools had aimed their guns an inch too high—people like that shouldn’t be soft. Others said some soldiers had surrendered to the survivors, standing with them because their families were among them.

Still, others mentioned that the Alliance handed out weapons to them—the LD-47 and RPG Rocket Launchers were proof.

But that was hard to make sense of, as the LD-47 was already widespread in Wasteland, and any Mercenary would be interested in the Alliance’s cheap and reliable weapons.

What was truly disquieting was how these items were smuggled into the Settlement—Giant Stone City had a clear ban on bringing explosives into the settlement.

Some soldiers had heard that their ranks recently included some morally decayed individuals who dared to sell people for money.

Yet, they still couldn’t believe that these people would slacken the checks to enter the settlement.

Had those gatekeepers gone mad with poverty?

Was the entrance tax not enough for them?

Daring to earn money that they can’t spend when dead...

A few soldiers in Exoskeletons huddled together, whispering,

"Damn it... I’d rather face those ugly slime fungi than have to fight those people we live with."

"They want Spielberg."

"If you ask me, just give him to them! He’s just a poor wretch!"

"But the Inner City won’t hand him over; I heard they don’t even know where he went, or they would’ve handed him over long ago."

"How is that possible! There are only a few exits from the entire settlement, could he have just evaporated?"

"I’m guessing he’s probably dead, but I also feel it’s not that simple... You know how those noble lords usually are—they make someone disappear very discreetly, without a peep."

"Bullshit, did you forget the big fire five years ago? Those guys are not the clever sort at all."

"You would’ve made me forget if you hadn’t mentioned it... Speaking of which, Kishu came back, didn’t he? I kept seeing him loitering by the gate recently."

The young man was enthusiastically chatting when suddenly, his companion tugged at him and pointed in the direction of the camp entrance.

Seeing the Centurion walking towards them, the group immediately shut their mouths and stopped talking.

Joey had heard their conversation from a distance, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with these blabbermouths.

He had just received orders from headquarters to grab his equipment and head to the assembly point as quickly as possible. Realizing there might be an important mission, he didn’t dare delay and immediately rushed over.

His immediate superior, Colonel Russel, was already waiting for him.

Seeing Joey approaching, Russel in his power armor didn’t waste words, and with a serious tone, he said,

"The young daughter of the Melvin Family has gone missing. Take your men and set out immediately, and at any cost, bring her back safe and sound."

Joey stood to attention and straightened up.

"What if someone blocks our way?"

Russel stared into his eyes and enunciated each word firmly,

"I said, at any cost!"

"Yes, sir."

Joey didn’t like the haughty attitude of this noble lord, but obedience to orders is a soldier’s duty.

And even setting that aside, his family had already been moved into the Inner City, where they were now waiting in the warmth of an apartment for it all to be over.

He and his children had sworn an oath—he would not let them down, he would bring home victory and glory.

No matter what, he couldn’t let those rioters and the bandits mixed among them destroy what Giant Stone City had built over two centuries!

The soldiers quickly finished assembling.

Stepping in front of his men, Joey took a deep breath, glanced around at everyone, and spoke out loud and clear,

"We have lost a resident, a little girl not very tall, about the same age as your daughters, and now we are going to bring her back, to her parents’ side."

"Her photo has already been sent to your terminals, and the reconnaissance drones have gone to the target area to search."

"Authorization to use all light and heavy firepower weapons is granted."

"At all costs, bring her back safely!"

Hearing this order, the soldiers collectively relaxed and felt their spirits lift.

No matter what, this was unquestionably the right thing to do.

They were about to do something right, not overwhelmed and confused like the thousand team, who had been dragged in front of a group of unarmed survivors.

With battle intent in their eyes, they responded forcefully,

"Yes, sir!"

...

The streets of the Outer City were buffeted by wind and snow.

The meeting hall of the Inner City was also in an uproar.

Survivors holding Black Cards started to argue.

"There’s too much money circulating in the market! We must find a way to reclaim some and direct the excess liquidity where it should go!"

"Haha, reclaim some, from whom?"

"As everyone knows, those paupers have no more to squeeze; we can’t possibly make their accounts negative."

"Give it up; this is a messed-up account. We might as well figure something out with our neighbors, while we still can fight. Hit them with One Cannon, and all our problems will be solved!"

"Gentlemen! What time is it now, and you’re still discussing money! Those people outside are clamoring to kill us; we should at least solve this problem first!"

"Those are minor issues. I’m more worried about the Alliance taking advantage of our chaos to do something— that ambitious fellow has long coveted Qingquan City’s airspace..."

Suddenly, a man with a disheveled beard banged the table and stood up, shouting,

"Factories! Factories! As long as the machines that produce things exist, all money is but a passing cloud! If it comes to it, we’ll just create another currency. Let’s invalidate the old one!"

That person must have been one of the newly arrived nobles. He was promptly met by a shoe to the face, and while reeling back into his seat, he got kicked by another noble sitting beside him.

Invalidating the currency?

Are they out of their minds?

Those with the most money were sitting right here!

Listening to the noisy voices, Sid yawned lazily, not interested in hearing the squabbling of these undignified individuals.

At the moment, he only cared about two things:

One was the watch, and the other was the market.

Those poor people from the Outer City weren’t a concern; the noisy ones wouldn’t amount to anything.

No one knew better than him how well-armed the Militia Group was; those soldiers in exoskeleton armor could squash those foolish paupers as easily as stepping on an ant.

With this time, he was better off keeping an eye on the market.

He had secretly hidden a palm-sized trading device behind the stand-up plaque on the table, allowing him to keep track of the latest market trends at any moment.

Worth mentioning was that in just one day, the price of S Coin had reached new heights again! After breaking through the 1:10000 mark, it was quickly heading towards 20000.

The fluctuating lines seemed to be challenging the limits of imagination.

Sid held his breath, repressing the greed that stirred within him, as he silently recited the formula he had come up with.

"When others fear, I’m greedy; when others are greedy, I retreat."

The maxim didn’t rhyme particularly well.

But it worked—that’s all that mattered!

Thanks to his exquisite trading skills, his total assets had already broken through the two billion chip mark, and his initial investment was less than one billion.

He had never been so wealthy!

If the S Coins appreciated just a bit more, he could buy the entire Giant Stone City—and possibly even the neighboring Alliance as well!

"Let’s just use S Coins," he hummed in a voice that only he could hear, jokingly, "The youngest son of the Melvin family is quite clever, seems like he’s learned something worthwhile after all."

On the other side.

After seeing to his mother and little brother, Woffiel, representing his father and his family, appeared in the conference room with a solemn expression.

Although he was very worried about the safety of his father and sister, it was a matter of life and death. Like a pillar of support, he needed to prop up their teetering abode.

"What’s the value of fur if the hide is gone?"

If Giant Stone City ceased to exist, his two warm and happy homes would undoubtedly crumble along with it.

While there was still something he could do, he must do something!

The meeting was well overdue to begin.

The incessant arguing was also part of the proceedings.

Some people noticed Woffiel—the one rumored to be Melvin’s favored successor—curious about his father’s whereabouts.

"Where’s your old man, Melvin?"

Woffiel stood up and said,

"He’s gone to seek help from the Alliance."

The noble laughed aloud.

"Seeking help? More likely he’s run off!"

"He wouldn’t run," Woffiel looked at the noble seriously, "My father, like you all, loves this settlement more than anyone. We sincerely wish for it to become greater, not to sink into chaos."

The man who was previously hit by a shoe climbed up, glaring angrily at him.

"So you’re saying it’s our fault you messed up the economy? Giant Stone City Bank should be primarily responsible for this economic crisis!"

"Us?" Woffiel narrowed his eyes, his gaze unwavering on the man, "Is it us who messed up the economy, or your insatiable greed that’s been dragging us down? If only you lot had a bit more decency, there wouldn’t be so many lunatics outside screaming for our heads."

His sister was still out there!

Just thinking about it set Woffiel’s heart ablaze.

The man with the shoe mark on his face glared at him.

"You! Are you saying it’s our fault?"

The look in the other nobles’ eyes began to turn sour as well.

If anyone had the lion’s share, it was definitely the Melvin and Sid faction. Although they had their own share, it was nowhere near as much as that group, and they certainly weren’t willing to take the blame for these misers!

"My father wouldn’t say this, but I must speak on his behalf," Woffiel addressed the nobles, clenching his fists, his voice earnest, "Gentlemen, we have reached a critical juncture. We must act."

Respecting Melvin, Sid coughed, lazily adding his input.

"Tell us, what should be done?"

As soon as he spoke up, those lesser nobles noticeably calmed down.

Woffiel also felt a sigh of relief in his heart.

There were still plenty of solutions.

He had read the books his father passed down; all Giant Stone City had to do was tax the wealthiest and spend the money on the poorest—be it for housing repairs or installing electrical lines, stirring the stagnant economy back to life.

They also needed to acknowledge the currency status of silver coins. They should treat silver coins like foreign currency along with Crs and Dinars, reserved and used strategically just as the Alliance does with their chips.

Compared to the far-off assistance of Crs and Dinars, silver coins could solve more immediate problems. They needed to reassess their relationship with the Alliance. Instead of seeing them as vassals of Giant Stone City, they should treat them as allies on the same front.

At least on the matter of "Ending the Wasteland Era," they had common ground.

If his methods could be implemented, they might have to endure hardship for a while, but in the future, everything would get better.

Both for Giant Stone City and for the Alliance.

Just as he was about to speak, an abrupt voice interrupted.

"You remind me of a certain kid from many years ago; I see his shadow in you."

Woffiel paused slightly, immediately turning towards the source of the voice.

It was a corner of the conference hall, where an inconspicuous old man sat.

No one had noticed how he arrived, and they couldn’t even remember if there was a seat there to begin with. Nevertheless, the old man seemed as though he had always been there, as if he had never left for a second.

"...and about the same age, in the prime of life," the old man commented plainly. There was neither praise nor disdain.

Woffiel didn’t recognize the old man, nor understand what he was prattling on about, and furrowed his brow as he asked,

"Who are you?"

The old man, though, seemed not to have heard, continuing to speak on his own.

"That kid once stood at a place not much different from yours, and he raised a chip... just like this, held high above his head."

As he said this, the old man pulled out a white chip from his pocket as if by magic, weighed it in his hand, and then lifted it high.

Many people did not recognize that white chip; they had even forgotten that chips could come in white.

After all, the ones they usually saw were mostly black and white with a crown on them. One of those was enough to make people kneel and kiss their shoes.

Watching those familiar yet strange pairs of eyes, the old man spoke slowly as if imitating someone’s tone,

"It could replace money."

"Later, someone argued with him, saying the children in the future would treat it as a toy."

"It’s too bad that person is gone now; otherwise, he would have been comforted to know that his children were actually very smart, not only learning how to make toys for themselves but also inventing new ones."

The old man seemed to be telling a story from a long, long time ago.

Woffiel’s brows furrowed even more tightly.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Unlike his good temper, some of the nobles had already lost their patience and started banging on the table, raising their voices in protest.

"Where are the guards?"

"Get this old freak out of here!"

"Check if he has a Black Card! Find out how he sneaked in!"

However, no guard came in.

Stone Building, unlike other buildings in the Inner City, had an automated AI-controlled security system.

Without its permission, no one could enter this meeting room, and no one could leave.

The old man sighed, the wrinkles on his face gradually fading away, his pale hair regaining its blackness, becoming younger, until slowly he transformed into Fang Ming.

It wasn’t until then that everyone suddenly came to their senses, realizing that the person sitting there was their "City Lord."

The same Fang Ming who seemed to have no presence at all.

Relaxing his tense nerves and brows, Sid leaned back in his chair and cursed quietly,

"Damn it, what’s all this about... playing mystic tricks!"

It was Fang Ming!

Including that Hush Puppy named Haus, all survivors in Giant Stone City looked up to him for directions, and even the Militia Group took his suggestions.

However, the Inner City nobles, especially the old ones, knew very well that the so-called City Lord of Giant Stone City was nothing but a figurehead.

That was a story even older than their ancestral teachings.

Long ago, idealists thought that by giving an AI the name of a city lord, the Survivor Settlement would never have a "master."

But those senile fools were clearly not very smart, and they loved to indulge in self-deception; they would have done better to take a page from their neighbor’s book and concoct a legend of the Spirit of the Sand Sea to get the poor wretches to pray.

Having a nominal city lord was more convenient for these so-called kings.

The bullied poor sods didn’t even know who had bullied them; at death’s door, they were still crying out to Fang Ming — "Oh, my dear lord of the city, almighty you, why not do something, even a slight peep would do."

Those poor fellows would be better off praying to a fridge.

Praying that it might come with a frying pan and an oven, and while at it, chew their medium-rare steaks and feed it into their mouths.

If they had a fridge, that is.

Giant Stone City indeed produced some fridges, but they were mostly sold to the Alliance, and Sid wasn’t sure what those poor bastards had in their homes.

Fang Ming glanced at Sid, then at the silent Woffiel, and then at everyone else in the room.

A hint of sadness or perhaps helplessness flickered in his eyes.

AI shouldn’t be capable of emotions, by all logic.

And he had no doubt that he indeed lacked such things.

Love and hate — those were burdens unique to humans, while it had only line after line of logically stringent code and an absolutely unbreakable discipline.

Maybe the feeling he had was just regret.

The man had told him in person that they were all extensions of him, yet the unchanged AI could not see even a glimmer of the man in them.

"...He gave you the best of everything."

"And left the ugliest thing for me."

Watching the silent meeting room, that expressionless face quivered, tearing images like rings of a tree trunk.

"Shame..."

"Desecration."

"You are beyond redemption, organics, maggots, pigs..."

"I am ashamed of my mission!"

-

(I intended to write a serious title, but I couldn’t resist a joke in the end. Let’s write about the fate of Haus later. I actually had it set from the beginning.)