This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 544: The Alliance’s Fifth City

Chapter 544: Chapter 544: The Alliance’s Fifth City

After his circuit through Hell’s Gate, Spielberg felt like a completely different person, suddenly possessing a newfound understanding of life and death.

Before, there was no question he was a coward. The Wasteland lay just outside the colossal wall, yet he never dared even to look at it.

Now,

he was more worried about leaving this world with regrets than he was about death itself.

It was best to do what he wanted to do sooner rather than later.

To meet those he wished to meet, he needn’t wait until next spring...

Shelter No. 404’s browsing room.

Sitting before the Manager of the Alliance, Spielberg looked anxious, though he had mentally prepared himself; his heart still raced a bit.

He had just walked a great distance over snow-covered ground, his boots soaked through as if dipped in water, dirtying the floor here.

Watching Spielberg constantly shifting his posture, Chu Guang couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

"Don’t be nervous, do I look that frightening?"

"That’s not it... I was worried about dirtying your couch, sir," Spielberg scratched his head and spoke softly, "I haven’t washed these clothes for days, and they are from when I was in prison."

Chu Guang suggested,

"There’s a gym next door with showers, you could go and take one first."

"Thank you... that’s a great suggestion, but maybe in a bit," Spielberg took out a letter from his chest, cautiously placed it on the coffee table, and gently pushed it towards Chu Guang, "Miss Alyssa asked me to deliver this letter to you when she learned of my destination."

Alyssa?

Chu Guang had a favorable impression of that clever young girl, remembering her as Melvin’s daughter, whom he had met briefly at a celebration.

He opened the envelope and took out the letter inside.

The handwriting was elegant, accompanied by a faint fragrance.

The letter described the drastic changes currently happening in Giant Stone City and explained the new authority’s promises and appeals, sincerely expressing their hope for assistance from the Alliance.

"...We agree with the Alliance’s principles of material equality, and we will root out authoritarianism from our society, putting new laws in place that everyone must follow from now on. We are willing to make changes and do something for the people of the Wasteland, and to fight for the ideal of ending the Wasteland Era. We hope in this new era, we can join you, or at least stand as allies beside you."

"And we beg you to reach out and help us."

Additionally, Alyssa wrote in the letter that since the chips had been voided, the debts Mr. Manager had skillfully borrowed had also been erased...

Chu Guang smiled after reading.

Partially because of Alyssa’s cunning mention of debt in her letter and partly in surprise at her growth.

It seemed that quite a bit had happened at their Alliance neighbor in just two short months...

If it were Melvin, he might have played the economic card of pricing debts as a bluff. Indeed, the old man had already done so, resulting in the Alliance preparing to handle the principal and interest for the next five to ten years.

"You want chips, we’ll give you chips."

But Alyssa differed from her father. She had swapped tactics—

Since that card had essentially become ineffective, it might be better to proactively discard it from hand, using the economic card as a diplomatic play.

This wasn’t about gaining the Alliance’s sympathy at their own expense.

Rather, it demonstrated the stance of the new authorities in Giant Stone City—they wanted to cut ties with the past and genuinely embrace the ideal of equality.

Except for those keen on harming others and themselves, anyone would help them through their difficulties, not to mention the declarations of the Alliance.

"That’s a bold move... Forgiving debts of more than three and a half billion like that. If we didn’t respond, we’d seem petty."

Chu Guang grinned, choosing not to reveal the trick, folded the letter, and continued speaking to Spielberg.

"When you go back, could you pass on a message for us? We will help."

Spielberg grinned sheepishly.

"That’s very kind of you."

Chu Guang shook his head.

"Think nothing of it; we are all descendants of the United Human Front, and besides, we are so close."

In fact, he was already taking action.

The more than two hundred players previously left in Giant Stone City were not just spectating and broadcasting to the official network.

The residents of the shelter had their own discipline, their own morals, and seeing mercenaries and Looters causing trouble, they couldn’t just stand by and watch.

However, most of the chaos in Giant Stone City was indeed resolved by its own citizens, and this time the players did not stand in the center of the stage.

The essence of this revolution was an uprising launched by the survivors of Giant Stone City, unable to endure the exploitation by the nobles. If the Alliance played any role, it was probably through economic means to dissolve the nobility’s control over all classes, effectively disarming them.

The chips issued by the nobles had become worthless, the soldiers didn’t want to fight for them, the workers didn’t want to work for them, and everyone preferred to believe in an abstract, fictional character named Pol rather than any word from Haus.

Moreover, the nobles were not as smart as their servants fantasized them to be, not only producing frequent blunders but also repeatedly igniting powder kegs, causing most of the citizens caught in the middle to lean towards the outer city.

This revolution had already been won before it even began; what the people lacked was just the courage to make the final decision.

Even so, Chu Guang had to admit it was an unprecedented miracle.

Although there had been some bloodshed, they did not turn entire streets red.

According to the players broadcasting on the forum, there were violent incidents that night, after all.

Some were discovered and stopped by the players, but many more tragedies were swallowed in the dark corners, only known by the heavy snow that buried everything.

Yet, in the past century, the residents of Giant Stone City had paid the price in blood numerous times.

It was their turn to succeed.

After having endured enough of the darkness, they finally came together to ignite the fire to dispel the darkness. This revolution was both a miracle with a probability of less than 1% and a high probability inevitability.

There was also a small note in the envelope.

Chu Guang shook it out and unfolded it in his hand.

It still bore the delicate handwriting, but now with a touch of sprightliness and lightness.

"Thank you for your encouragement! If it wasn’t for your words, I certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to stand up at that time!"

"Alyssa will definitely not disappoint your expectations and will become a better person! ^-^"

Looking at the cheerful writing, Chu Guang was momentarily stunned, feeling a sudden tightness in his heart.

He looked at Spielberg and asked seriously,

"Can you tell me about your affairs?"

Spielberg hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"No problem..."

That was what his comrades from the Workers’ Association had asked him to do.

He was here not just to keep his appointment or deliver a letter for Alyssa; more so, it was to carry the story of the Workers’ Association to the Alliance.

Being held hostage as an Inner City resident, he was released by the "surrender faction" of the Inner City amid the deafening shouts of the crowd in the late night.

He had not personally experienced the miraculous hours before nightfall, but his comrades from the Workers’ Association had told him all about it.

Including how they had almost abandoned their principles in silence, becoming accomplices to rioters, and how the sincere apology of a young girl named Alyssa reminded them of their mission—Pol’s words and deeds.

The Militia Group was unexpectedly effective against mercenaries, but when facing their compatriots, they raised their gun barrels... which was completely different from the predicted outcomes he had seen in the projection room, even diametrically opposite.

Clearly, Mr. Fang Ming’s calculations had considered the ugly sides of human nature.

But in the model it laid out, it seemed that only the ugly parts were included.

And that wasn’t a surprise.

After all, for the last century and a half, humanity had shown almost only its ugly side to it, becoming uglier with foreseeable trends and moving further away from its original creators...

But the complexity of humans lies in the fact that a person cannot be simply defined by a few "labels".

Those militia who had never been on a battlefield were not truly cowards; it was the ones in the Azure Power Armor, like Wallace, who turned tail and ran.

The squads of ten and hundreds sent to execute orders in the city, when they knew they were on a mission of justice, staked their lives and courage. And when executing some "unconventional" orders, they felt hesitant.

Especially a Centurion named Joey.

His family was held as "hostages" in the Inner City.

However, upon seeing Alyssa with her arms wide open, he ultimately chose to stand on the side of "humanity," deciding to "bring victory and glory to his children,"

rather than let his choices become a story too shameful to mention, turning into a disgrace his children could not speak of.

Spielberg also straightforwardly spoke about the content he had seen in the projection room.

Whether it was the past of Giant Stone City, the hundreds of potential outcomes derived, or the tens of thousands of possibilities he hadn’t finished watching.

"... Honestly, not just Mr. Fang Ming, I also thought Giant Stone City was beyond saving, but the outcome surprised

He had spoken casually at the time, but he hadn’t expected it to almost cost a kind girl her life.

If she hadn’t gone to pick up that hairpin, she wouldn’t have fallen behind; if she hadn’t set such high moral standards for herself, she wouldn’t have stepped forward at that moment.

In fact, the woman she saved wasn’t a good person either.

Although the outcome wasn’t bad, if what Spielberg had said was true, she was almost walking a tightrope at the time, with deep cliffs on both sides.

It was the abyss of human nature.

Without the Worker’s Report, the Workers’ Association, or Pol’s story, everyone wouldn’t have had anything close to a program, or the guy fiddling with the pen might have written something whimsical, and a tragedy could have already occurred.

Chu Guang grew more frightened as he thought about it.

It was a miracle that she survived...

Of course, she wasn’t the only miracle.

If Mr. Fang Ming hadn’t taken action, the man named Spielberg in front of him would have definitely died in jail. Being simultaneously targeted for bounty by two utterly inhumane nobles, and then picked up by an AI that had awakened to "humanity," was simply like hitting the jackpot in a lottery.

This guy was still alive and could sit here peacefully telling his story—it was the greatest miracle of the "Giant Stone City Revolution"!

"Who is your leader now?" Chu Guang asked the question he was most concerned about.

Spielberg shook his head.

"There is none for now... Someone proposed emulating Ideal City by establishing a council without a chairman, continuing the first residents’ ideal that ’Giant Stone City has no living city lord,’ but we always feel that Ideal City’s method isn’t quite right for us yet."

"Your intuition is right," Chu Guang nodded and continued, "That would just create a new Inner City."

"So someone proposed that the Militia Group and the Workers’ Association each elect representatives to take turns being the city lord... but Joey thought it wasn’t a good idea to let the Militia Group handle it, feeling that his team harbored opportunists. So, we haven’t decided yet, and we just set up a crisis office in the meantime, setting the constitution first before slowly transitioning to the new authorities."

As he said this, Spielberg spoke embarrassingly.

"They even asked me to ask you... whether you would be willing to take over this mess. We’ve seen your constitution, and what we want is pretty much what you’re already doing."

Ideal City’s ideal was poison for the vast majority of Waste Land Wanderers, but the Alliance’s "Survivors Unite" was just right for the newly reborn Giant Stone City.

Our communities are only twenty or thirty kilometers apart, distinguishing each other seemed too alienating.

However, the mess the Inner City Residents created was enormous; they were now like beggars, too embarrassed to ask, "Please let us live in the same house as you."

As he watched the uneasy Spielberg, Chu Guang also experienced mixed feelings.

Initially, he just thought about undermining their establishment, not expecting to take the entire wall.

Of course.

He definitely wouldn’t ignore them.

Not to mention 500,000 people—as long as they embraced progressive ideas actively, didn’t storm in making a mess of his and the players’ community, they were allies on the same front.

Why, you might ask?

There is only one reason.

Because the Alliance isn’t an Empire, it is the Human Revival United Front—it’s an alliance of all the survivors.

He had never forgotten his own words; this place was for survivors to band together for warmth.

"Welcome!"

Chu Guang smiled as he looked at Spielberg, "We welcome you to join the big family of the Alliance. You have already made a clean break with the past, and we are pleased to have another comrade on the frontline ending the Wasteland Era."

Spielberg looked at him in surprise.

"You... agree?"

Chu Guang nodded.

"But we won’t let you join us immediately, as you represent a settlement of 500,000 people. We need a smooth transition period; please also understand our difficulties."

Spielberg quickly nodded.

"I understand! Not just me... others will also understand. If we open the great gates of the barrier now, the entirety of Qingquan City will be overrun with Looters."

"Not just Looters, but also next year’s Tide. We need Giant Stone City to share some of the pressure," Chu Guang paused, then continued, "Who is the representative of the Workers’ Association?"

"Lovett," Spielberg immediately responded, "we all agree he played an indispensable role with his speech in the newsroom, mobilizing at least more than half of the workers, preventing more than half of the atrocities."

Lovett?

Chu Guang paused, his expression becoming odd as he said.

"Is he also a carpenter?"

Spielberg widened his eyes in surprise.

"Do you know him?"

"No... no, it’s nothing," Chu Guang shook his head.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

History, after all, is a convergence of numerous coincidences into inevitability.

After a pause, Chu Guang looked at him earnestly and said,

"I will copy our laws for you. You can consult everyone and make some additions. Also, I will send some commissioners there to help you. Among them are staff from the Home of the Refugees and experts from shelters... They can help you solve some practical problems."

"Thank you so much!" Spielberg scratched the back of his head, embarrassedly saying, "Well... we still need to choose someone to make decisions, and this is also our consensus. Why don’t you decide for us?"

"You should decide on such matters yourselves. The Alliance only makes macro-level plans, ensuring that the laws of the Alliance are properly implemented in each settlement according to their charters, and ensuring the military security of each settlement, and so on..."

Seeing Spielberg’s uneasy expression, Chu Guang smiled and continued,

"You actually don’t need to ask for my opinion. Up until now, you have all done very well and can completely complete this last step by electing a new city lord yourselves."

"Of course, if that new city lord does not perform well, or betrays our ideals, I will not hesitate to dismiss him."

If a group of natural slaves won, Chu Guang would not give them the power to decide their own fate, turning everything into a game of power; he would not even agree to let them join the Alliance.

Their destiny, like Male Lions and Honey Badgers, was to follow behind the Alliance as collaborators. When they figured it out, then they could awaken.

However, the survivors of Giant Stone City still had hope; they had redeemed themselves and had actively shut down the cannibalistic casino.

Such miracles were highly unlikely.

But since it had happened, it should be allowed to continue.

The original residents of Giant Stone City said there were no living city lords, so it was best to respect the wishes of those great individuals.

Spielberg was somewhat regretful, but he felt that Chu Guang made some sense, and this would also appease some voices within their group that didn’t trust the Alliance — the Workers’ Association would rather elect a worker as the city lord than let the Alliance choose a new master for them.

Unexpectedly the Alliance didn’t care who among them stood out as a representative; it never intended to act as masters riding over their heads.

Spielberg felt a sigh of relief in his heart.

"Although, however... I hope you can take over the militia and those equipment inventories as soon as possible. Joey is a good man, but at this crucial juncture, just being a good man is not enough."

Chu Guang nodded.

"No problem, I will transfer the First Corps of the Alliance and Burning Corps to maintain order and reorganize the Giant Stone City Militia Group. From now on, the salaries of those militiamen will be paid by the logistics department of the Alliance."

Silver coins had, in fact, already started circulating inside and outside Giant Stone City, and parts of the Burning Corps had already entered, making this task not too difficult.

Spielberg nodded, indicating understanding.

Now, he had only one thing left to ask...

"The city lord... I mean Mr. Fang Ming, has he really gone?"

He remembered Fang Ming telling him that he was going to go to the north shore of Rhombus Lake to stay for a while, spending his final moments there.

The Stone Building had collapsed that morning.

No doubt, he was gone...

Seeing the reluctance in Spielberg’s eyes, Chu Guang pondered for a moment and slowly said,

"My assistant told me that when he left, he had no regrets and was very happy that you had reached an ending he had never envisioned.

"If you don’t want to disappoint that gentleman, then carry the memory of him and continue moving towards the new era."

"You’re right... we can’t always expect the city lord to solve all our problems." As he said this, Spielberg seemed to have realized something.

Watching this worker get up to leave, Chu Guang suddenly remembered something and called out to him.

"Oh, I said I would take you to try on my gear."

He had almost forgotten such important matter!

Spielberg, stopping in his tracks, was stunned, seemingly not expecting the Manager to say such a thing, then said with a wry smile,

"Ah? Are you serious? I’m already so happy to have this chat with you, so that’s really not necessary."

He was really flustered.

However, Chu Guang didn’t mind and walked over, smiling.

"I’m not joking. Now that you’re here, try it on... come with me."

Spielberg nervously nodded and followed Chu Guang out of the viewing room, heading towards the elevator entrance on floor B3.

Azure Power Armor stood motionless there.

Looking at the open hatch, Spielberg carefully climbed in, and with Chu Guang’s help, closed the back armor and the helmet visor.

Watching his now doubly bulky colleague, Chu Guang smiled and said,

"How do you feel?"

The blue tin can stood still for a long time, before a stifled cry floated from the armor.

"I... can’t move."

Chu Guang paused for a moment, then slapped the back of his head.

"Almost forgot... Xiao Qi, boost the engine output of the armor to 100%."

Xiao Qi’s response came through his ears.

"Received!"

As the electricity generated by cold fusion surged into various parts of the armor, Spielberg, now in power armor, finally could move.

Though his movements were clumsy, similar to a drunkard’s.

Watching him, Chu Guang couldn’t help recalling the time he first got his power armor from Shelter No.117, feeling rather nostalgic.

Since breaking through to LV30, he mostly switched to the most energy-efficient, unpowered mode, relying on his own strength to operate the armor.

By LV40, he got used to the weight of the power armor and could move freely even without any power supply.

Fang Ming had eventually turned into a person.

And he seemed to be moving farther away from the identity of a "person"...

After experiencing the feeling of immense strength for a while, Spielberg climbed out of the iron can.

Moving his sore arms, he looked at Chu Guang hesitantly and finally couldn’t restrain his astonishment, asking softly,

"Do you... not turn on the power usually?"

Chu Guang smiled modestly,

"I do turn it on when necessary."

"Incredible..." Spielberg looked at him in wonder, his eyes nearly popping out, "You can wear it like clothing."

How strong must this guy be?!

His story was still too conservative; maybe even Pol in power armor couldn’t compete against him...

Chu Guang gently patted Spielberg’s shoulder and laughed,

"So it proves that Awakeners can defeat power armor. Take this message back and tell your colleagues."

"Your title isn’t an exaggeration at all!"

...

Giant Stone City.

At the square on the border between Inner City and Outer City stood a group of dirty-faced people.

They were residents of the Inner City, holders of the Black Card.

And surrounding them were militiamen armed to the teeth.

Worth mentioning is that leader of the thousand team, Wallace, had been found.

This coward, wearing power armor, had hidden in a warehouse in the Outer City, blocking the door securely, likely planning to escape the city once the coast was clear but forgetting to turn off his tracker.

It was almost comical that Wallace, who had never been part of a Supervisory team, had completely forgotten about that feature on his armor.

The militiamen who had taken over the command post quickly located him based on that tracking information.

He was the first to order to fire, and although his subordinates raised their guns, some protesting civilians still died.

He knelt on the square, his face ashen, his eyes lifeless, not knowing if he regretted his original command or regretted not resisting in his power armor.

Maybe he could have taken some down with him...

Perhaps.

By the way, he was rather lucky to kneel here and plead for forgiveness.

Militia Group leader Zhao Yongxu died at the hands of mercenaries coveting his wealth during his escape. Joey’s direct superior, Russell, didn’t even have the chance to put on his power armor before being shot dead by his subordinates during the mutiny.

Only one of the Thousand Leaders remained.

Although only Centurion Wallace was kneeling, the vast majority of Inner City residents were standing, their faces ashen.

There were 1507 residents with Black Cards, among which four to five hundred were under sixteen, and over three hundred were over sixty years old.

Everyone was waiting for the angry residents to pass judgment on them.

Accompanied by a few workmates, Alyssa found her family in the corner of the square and anxiously ran over.

"Mom! Brother!"

Woffiel stared unblinkingly at Alyssa running toward him, remained silent without responding, and suddenly raised his hand to fiercely slap her across the face.

"Slap—!"

Having not slept all night, Alyssa’s head was already buzzing, and this slap left her dazed, causing her to fall sideways to the ground, sitting there without getting up.

Woffiel was quickly pinned to the ground by two militia, and an enraged Joey kicked him, cursing him as a coward.

Woffiel, pressed to the ground, acted as if he saw nothing, spitting at Alyssa, his face twisted into a contorted mess, blood seeping from it.

"Get lost! Our family has no place for you! Die far away!"

Covering her stinging face, Alyssa stared blankly at the hysterical Woffiel, tears involuntarily welling up in her eyes.

But she did not cry out.

"Brother..."

"You’re mad! She’s your sister—" Kishu glared angrily at his brother, tried to help Alyssa up from the ground but was firmly held back by their mother.

Genesis shook her head, pleadingly glancing at her younger son.

She also didn’t know why.

The moment she was surrounded by those servants, she felt certain she would die.

But seeing Alyssa still safe, her heart suddenly wasn’t as frightened.

Surviving as one wasn’t too bad.

She hoped those people would just shoot her, nothing more...

"Enough! Are you trying to kill a man?"

A sonorous voice reprimanded the militia beating Woffiel.

Lovett strode purposefully to the bruised and swollen man, intending to pull him up, but upon seeing that twisted smile, he stopped his hand.

"I am ashamed of you, sir," Lovett looked at the wretch with pity.

Even now, he thought everyone was as ugly as he was.

"Then just kill me!" Woffiel spat out a bloody spittle, stared intensely at him, glanced at the surrounding militia, and suddenly chuckled, "Shoot, kill me!"

He seemed to know where he was going, not afraid at all.

Lovett gazed directly into his eyes.

"I won’t do that."

"Why not! Shoot! Why won’t you shoot!" Woffiel initially kept silent, then suddenly screamed like a madman, reached for his shoes, yet dodged away.

Lovett kicked his dirty hands away, the pity in his eyes gradually turning into disdain.

"Why? Still asking that question?"

"How many times do I need to say it, because we aren’t you."

Woffiel froze.

That phrase sounded familiar.

The day before, someone seemed to have told him the same thing...

Had these people made an agreement?

Why was even the tone of their speech exactly the same...

Lovett continued in a calm and steady voice.

"If we were to kill you, it would be because from the rise of The Sun today, you violated our laws, not because I hate your guts so much I would chop you up and feed you to dogs—though I bet you often didn’t regard your own words at all—but we aren’t you."

Woffiel, his mouth swollen like a sausage, looked lost as he gazed at the man with a bearded face.

Lovett paused, then continued speaking.

"We have a program. It’s not perfect, but we follow through on our promises. All we want is a new beginning, so a beginning is all we need."

"Your ill-gotten gains will be confiscated, since they were originally plundered from us. Don’t try to argue with us. We are calculating this debt."

"From now on, you are citizens of Giant Stone City. You will also need to find work to support yourselves."

"Of course, if you fear us, then take your luggage and roll out of here!"

At last, Lovett glanced at this pitiful figure crouched into a ball and said disdainfully,

"Consider these punches a lesson. Beating someone up in the street, especially in front of guards, according to the crisis management regulations, means we should be whipping you."

He helped Alyssa up and instructed the doctor to take her to rest, then, grabbing a loudspeaker, he walked in front of the Inner City residents.

He bellowed with a resonant voice,

"Listen up, residents of the Inner City!"

"This is a consensus decision agreed upon by the Militia Group, Workers Association, and the Crisis Office. Now, you have two choices."

"One is to actively confess your assets in Giant Stone City. Voluntarily hand over everything you have taken from us. Then join us as citizens of Giant Stone City to start over, with no distinction between inner and outer cities from now on!"

"Or, if you don’t trust us, then take your luggage and roll out of here to find your Ideal State in the Wasteland!"

"Of course, we’ll audit your assets. You will need to explain the source of every large deposit in your accounts and the destinations of your big expenditures. We won’t let any thieves sneak out—you’ll either pay fines or serve time in a new prison!"

After saying this, Lovett gestured, and several Crisis Office staff set up a table in the square, leaving these dispossessed nobles to decide their own fates.

Bonnie cried until her eyes were red.

This drastic change had almost cost her everything.

Her husband had died, her brother had died, her family members... more than half of the senior officers of the Militia Group had died last night.

She grasped her young son Kumarit’s hand tightly, her eyes blurred with tears full of despair and uncertainty about the future.

"Why must they be so ruthless..."

What would she do now?

Outside was a man-eating Wasteland...

Kumarit felt the same, his friends lost, his face no longer showed the bravado and vibrant spirits of youth.

He looked around nervously, shivering with fear.

Last night, his father had called him to the conference hall, and he watched frozen as S Coins disappeared, too frightened to approach.

He hid under his bedclothes, shivering in the dark until dawn rose the next day, then finally heard of his father’s death from his mother...

Perhaps his father was the truly "smart" one, having walked away with that "glorious" era to join their ancestors.

He should have died in that collapsing building too.

But he just couldn’t muster the courage...

Watching those weeping wretches, the electrician standing beside Lovett couldn’t help cursing,

"Damn it... just end it for them, a bunch of cowards!"

Lovett shrugged.

"I understand how you feel, but think about those who fled to the Inner City from the Outer City."

The electrician frowned.

"What’s that got to do with them? They were hostages of those people. We decided long ago not to hold them accountable."

"It was after the militia revolted that they became hostages," Lovett corrected him, "They were once accomplices of the Inner City nobles or licked Stephen old man’s boots and whips. Why else were they able to hide at that time? Was it because the lord showed mercy and rewarded them?"

The electrician fell silent, somewhat convinced by the logic that things are never one-sided but always have facets.

Lovett sighed.

"To purge ’them’ means an endless purge of ’them.’ First, we need to hold liable the militia who mistakenly killed civilians in the riots, those who did wrong but stopped, and then those whose loyalty was incomplete, who silently watched Stephen’s tyranny... enough is enough, we’re not absolute good guys after all, we also kept silent, and nearly became them."

"We’ve eliminated all the Mr. Stephens, and now they have become our ghosts. Let’s stop here, neither you nor I want to see those dirty things nailed in coffins crawl back."

This was also why he hadn’t killed Woffiel.

He certainly had the right to do so, at worst Alyssa would cry a bit more, but more people would cheer, and those discontented wouldn’t say a thing, only keep their mouths shut in the right atmosphere.

He understood a simple truth—the nutritious paste and cake both truly exist in this world, unrelated to reality or fairy tales, just differing in quantity.

Yet to desire the sweetness of the cake and the fullness of the paste was the truly unrealistic fairy tale.

In crossing or not crossing lines, they ultimately could only pick one, to have crossed yet not crossed or selectively crossed some parts—all were fanciful delusions.

Pol had countless opportunities to become Mr. Stephen, possessing strength, but he only had one chance to be Pol.

Lovett was aware of many things Alyssa wasn’t.

The Militia Group didn’t switch sides for her tears or cuteness; most militia had proposed a month earlier to be paid in Dinar or Silver coin, but were refused. That’s why most of them stood with the residents of the outer city.

Their ranks weren’t devoid of bad people; some took advantage of the riot to rob residents, but most, upon realizing these residents were as poor as themselves, could not help but laugh and let them go, leading to the revolt of those soldiers and ultimately, to unity.

The Worker’s Association announced over the radio, "Let bygones be bygones," and they would keep their promise.

The Militia Group didn’t speak, but that didn’t mean the soldiers were blind; those pairs of eyes watching them had not lost their wariness.

The soldiers favored settling the old scores of the nobles; they didn’t like those lords and didn’t mind turning a blind eye.

But once you start such things, when do you stop?

Should they also tally theirs?

Regardless, this was not a good sign for them; once trust cracked, it would brew a greater disaster.

Lovett remembered every word he had spoken.

They would enact a law that all would abide by, completely sever ties with the past, henceforth everyone would live under the sunlight of a new era, wary that this settlement doesn’t revert to a dark jungle.

At that moment, a militiaman approached.

"Comrade Lovett, someone at the door wishes to see you."

Lovett looked at him and asked,

"Who?"

The militiaman replied,

"Melvin; he’s brought five truckloads of food and supplies, probably bought from the Alliance... He pleads for us to spare his family."

Lovett narrowed his eyes.

"Is this a trade?"

The militiaman shook his head.

"I don’t think so; he gave us the food first, then knelt and begged for mercy... I helped him up; the guy seemed crazy."

Lovett was silent for a while, his eyes softening.

"Tell him, we haven’t forgotten the fire from five years ago, nor do we forget the more despicable acts others have done. We will nail their past to the pillar of shame in history alongside that collapsed building."

"But the reckoning stops here."

Killing Mr. Stephen would just add one more corpse to the streets, attracting more flies.

But now, united—

All the Mr. Stephens would fear them!

Lovett had no doubt, and he truly believed...

...

After settling scores with the Inner City residents, Giant Stone City’s dramatic changes finally drew to a close; people started cleaning up the mess all around.

With their backs to the midday Sun, they dragged out some frozen corpses from the snow.

Among them were men, women, children, and the elderly. Some were found on the streets, others dragged from the alleys.

Beyond solemn mourning, it seemed all people could do was carve this tragic memory into their tombstones, carrying the memory forward with them.

Suddenly, someone suggested that, given Giant Stone City’s current food shortage, they should be more thorough, truly making these bodies a part of themselves.

It was an exceedingly gruesome idea, but realistically, this settlement of over half a million didn’t seem to have many alternatives.

Mucosal Entity provided too little nutrients, and hunting it in bulk was impossible in the winter.

When starved, people do crazy things. In a sense, those looters were just people gone mad in the Wasteland.

They had not turned into new masters.

But they were now facing the danger of becoming something else...

Fortunately, a new twist arose.

They weren’t as isolated as those a century and a half before; their nearest neighbors were just twenty to thirty kilometers away in the city areas.

As people hesitated whether to send their deceased into the nutrient paste converter, an astonishing piece of good news suddenly came from outside the great wall—

The Alliance had arrived!