This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 719: Outmaneuvered

Chapter 719: Chapter 719: Outmaneuvered

"A bunch of garbage!"

Mr. Charles cursed aloud and, after pacing back and forth for a moment, closed his eyes.

Soon, a faint golden light appeared not far from him, and an old man wearing a grey robe slowly surfaced into view.

Without waiting for the other to speak, Charles hurriedly approached him, staring into his eyes in an aggressive and domineering manner.

"Your people have screwed up again! Why do I have to say ’again’? Can’t you come up with some decent weapons? Or are those scaly fishmen the only thing you have to offer?!"

Alzu’s face was just as ugly.

After all, he wasn’t a true Pioneer but an Apostle based in "Sanctuary No.2." He couldn’t completely shield human emotions, which prevented him from achieving purely rational thinking.

Still, even so, he patiently waited for the man to finish complaining before expressing his dissatisfaction in an icy tone.

"I need to remind you, the sea is your territory. You’ve lived here for two centuries, while we’ve only just arrived. I can indeed help you handle some troubles that you’re not convenient to address, but you don’t think we are omnipotent in the sea like on the road, do you? If that were the case, why would we need you?"

Charles’s expression became somewhat embarrassed.

"But even so..."

This time, Alzu didn’t let him finish his sentence and burst out angrily.

"Don’t give me that ’even so.’ Do I have to spell it out for you? You’re too slow!"

Charles was stunned by Alzu’s sudden outburst and momentarily forgot who was supposed to be challenging whom.

Taking a deep breath to steady his heaving chest, Alzu continued speaking, fixing his gaze on the bewildered face of the Federal Chief of Staff.

"The Alliance is trying to establish a net around us, and we’re running out of time. We must open our strategic space at sea before the net closes, and researching the Lair aboard the Tiangong is imperative. Where is the Coral City you promised me? Another two months have gone by, when can we begin our research?"

Hearing Alzu bring this up suddenly, Charles’s expression also showed some awkwardness and with a light cough, he tried to explain.

"That takes a bit of time... There are still voices of concern within the Federation, and I have been working hard to speak for you."

He needed to use his northern friends to smooth out some issues, but that didn’t mean he was going to fully side with them.

Put simply, they were just using each other.

Admittedly, he coveted eternal power, but he had his own pace for going about it, which was the safest way.

"Too slow."

Alzu shook his head, disappointment written all over his face.

"I trusted you, gave you the greatest support. We spared no effort in providing technology or assistance – we even gave you our most prized ’Mind Interference Technology.’ And what have you given me? Two months to play your tedious bureaucratic Game? Must we wait until you sit in the President’s seat to start the next step?"

Without waiting for Charles to explain, Alzu continued with heartfelt distress.

"If I had even one submarine or one ship at my disposal, we wouldn’t need to use those hideous fishmen. Why did our plan fail? Because of you, Charles! Your weakness and incompetence! Time and again you let my men stand alone! If you had given them the slightest support—"

"Enough!"

Charles’s face finally lost all semblance of composure, and he interrupted with noticeable annoyance.

"I’ve already helped you as much as my authority allows. Do you expect me to overstep my command and order the Federal Fleet to open fire on the Alliance’s target? Nobody would heed such an order! This isn’t like your place! There are no puppets here with their brains scooped out by Nago, where I can just do whatever I want, I have to operate within the rules—"

"To do things beyond the rules while staying within them? That’s your most fatal flaw. You want all the benefits without taking any of the risks. If you truly revered those laughable rules of yours, you shouldn’t have borrowed our power from the start, but should have vied for the majority’s support like your beloved President."

Alzu chuckled lightly, stepping closer to his dear ally, looking into his wavering pupils, and spoke slowly.

"I see it now, your subordinates have already begun to doubt you."

Subconsciously, Mr. Charles took a step back and furrowed his brows.

"My subordinates?"

Alzu nodded, his vacant gaze suddenly turning towards the direction of the window as he continued nonchalantly.

"That destroyer is moving towards the incident area... Let me guess, first off, it’s definitely not there to help us. If that was the plan, it wouldn’t have waited until after we were done fighting."

"Destroyer? You mean Captain Dongwen?" Mr. Charles looked at him in surprise and murmured to himself, "Didn’t I order him to return to Anle Island and stand by?"

"It seems I indeed guessed right," Alzu said, watching Mr. Charles’s face gradually change, yet he just sneered coldly at his ally, "Too bad, Mr. Charles, it’s a pity your political game has gone too far. You won’t have the chance to become President of the Federation, not anymore. However, that doesn’t mean you have no chance to grasp the power you covet... What do you think about the title ’Head of State’?"

Before a stunned Mr. Charles could speak, Alzu dropped his final words.

"This is your last chance, let’s see if you indeed have the courage to bear the consequences of your decision."

"If you’re a coward, I might as well look for a new ally sooner rather than later, ha."

As he finished speaking, the golden illusion began to fade, like a wisp of dissipating blue smoke merging into the air.

Mr. Charles was suddenly alarmed and called out hastily,

"Wait, wait a second!"

But the illusion did not wait for him, didn’t even bother listening to what he was saying, and simply vanished from the room, leaving his calls unanswered regardless of how he called out.

"This guy!"

Mr. Charles clenched his fists.

At that moment, a drop of cold sweat suddenly emerged on his forehead and plopped onto the carpet.

He had been played!

From the start, that person had anticipated that the mutants would surely fail.

And himself, who didn’t fully trust the Torch, would naturally, as before, arrange for a warship to oversee the final outcome.

Now his subordinates were starting to doubt his motives, even questioning whether what they were doing was right.

Just like that trickster had said, he no longer had the chance to be a fence-sitter, continuing to speculate opportunistically.

The doubtful eyes were not from the centrists this time, but from right beside him—those who had supported him in this high-stakes bet.

Now, he had only two paths to choose from.

Either to confess everything to those who supported him and those who doubted him and accept the punishment set by their own rules,

Or, while still holding the initiative in his hands, take his supporters and bet it all one last time...

Mr. Charles felt his palms soaked with cold sweat.

Just then, there were footsteps at the door, followed by a knock.

Almost reflexively, he said,

"Come in."

The door swung open, and an officer walked in, saluting respectfully.

"Mr. Charles, the President requests your presence at the Presidential Mansion. Regarding the investigation into the ’Golden Coast,’ he has some doubts that he wishes to discuss with you."

The Golden Coast?

Mr. Charles was bewildered for a moment before he remembered that it was the inspection ship sent to establish an outpost in the Sea Frontier Province.

Realizing this, he couldn’t help but want to laugh.

What were they thinking, investigating that thing at a time like this?

But there were outsiders present, so he didn’t let his laughter show. After calming his breath for a moment, he turned to the officer standing at the door and said, with poised elegance.

"Please convey to Mr. President that I have some matters to attend to here. I’ll meet with him before dusk."

"Yes!"

The officer saluted again and left the room.

The door closed.

Watching the room return to its former quiet, Mr. Charles paused for a moment, then went over to the couch and picked up the communicator lying there.

Efficiently, he dialed a string of numbers, his eyes no longer hesitant, his voice devoid of any delay.

As he issued one order after another, he soon finished all the preparations required before beginning this huge bet.

In fact, there was nothing to hesitate about.

Alzu’s assessment was quite right; he really was a weak and incompetent fellow.

But, as luck would have it, those officers and the main warring faction who had pushed him to the fore were not the "iron-blooded tough men" they pretended to be. Just like him, they were all opportunists who hesitated to take responsibility while craving benefits.

At least he had one tiny advantage over them: he could make some decisions when it was time to decide.

There was no reason he should lose this bet!

...

"Circular Island Port."

The water supply celebration ceremony had smoothly progressed to the end. Governor Channing, in front of everyone, read out the friendship declaration between Ring Island and Potato Harbor, along with the Alliance, while Midnight Chicken Killing represented the Alliance in delivering the Manager’s blessings to the local survivors.

And finally, as promised by the Alliance, the freshwater supply pipeline wasn’t affected by the alarm that had suddenly blared.

The clear water still bubbled tirelessly from the inverted hammer handle, as immutable as the rock-solid order itself.

That abrupt alarm, however, seemed more like a misunderstanding.

At first, the crowd gathered around the plaza was somewhat panicked, wondering if something significant had happened.

But when they saw the band continue to play and the ribbon-cutting ceremony go on, they gradually calmed down and immersed themselves once again in the festive atmosphere.

The celebratory ceremony concluded.

Standing next to the fountain, Midnight Chicken Killing grinned and said to Governor Channing, whose face still wore a look of disbelief.

"See, I told you it was nothing."

Harboring a belly full of doubts, Governor Channing couldn’t help but ask, seeing the Alliance’s Army leader seemed to know something.

"What was that explosion just now...?"

After pondering for a moment, Midnight Chicken Killing candidly replied,

"I’m afraid it was Mutants."

"Mutants?!" Channing was taken aback, looking at him in astonishment and blurted out, "How can there be Mutants in the Southern sea area?!"

He had indeed heard of aquatic mutant humans with gills and scales, but those creatures did not actually live in the sea; they built their nests on the shore.

The islands in the Southern sea area were far from the coastline, and without means to drive away Variants, even boats floating on the surface could not be considered safe.

Watching Mr. Chaning’s incredulous face, Midnight Chicken Killing didn’t explain, but simply took out a tablet from his pocket and handed it to him.

Just a moment ago, the Ground Model had captured footage near the seabed freshwater pipeline and shared it via the radio on the Meat Meat to his terminal device.

As he watched the battle footage being played on the screen, Mr. Chaning’s Adam’s apple involuntarily moved.

Actually mutants...

And there were so many of them!

The murky sea water was filled with severed limbs, weapons, and the aquatic Variants drawn by the scent of blood.

Besides that, a huge sea monster "Laken" was rolling in the water, seemingly called forth by those aquatic mutant humans as well.

Although the possibility of the video being synthetic could not be ruled out, it was clear these people weren’t playing tricks that could be easily exposed.

"There’s nothing surprising about this; the Southern sea area is right next to Haiye Province, and ever since the Torch Church lured that trash to Death Coast, it’s not surprising they’ve spread everywhere."

Looking at Mr. Chaning, whose gaze was fixed on the screen, Midnight Chicken Killing suddenly seemed to remember something and continued to speak.

"Oh right, just two months ago, a group of mutants tried to attack our port, but fortunately we spotted them before they landed."

"This... this is indeed surprising," Mr. Chaning said with astonishment in his eyes, his expression visibly changing.

Mutants.

This was no joke.

The area where the explosion occurred was less than a hundred nautical miles from the Ring Island; if they could swim to that location, it was completely possible for them to reach here.

Although there were some defense forces on the island, they could mobilize the reserves if necessary, but if faced with a sudden attack by a thousand mutants, they probably wouldn’t even have time to hand out guns to the young men.

The consensus among the various settlements in the Southern sea area was to establish defense forces at sea, and this strategy was established during the era of Shelter No. 70.

That is, to place the Federation’s fortress beyond the islands at sea, with a fleet built of steel to block threats from the Wasteland.

It was because of this defense mechanism that almost no Looter’s speedboats had been able to approach within a hundred nautical miles of the islands for the past two hundred years.

However, now the defense mechanism seemed to have failed.

This was the second unexpected incident...

Observing the changing expressions of Governor Chaning, Midnight Chicken Killing continued.

"And what’s more intriguing, on the same day, your Marine Patrol Team patrolling in nearby waters disappeared collectively... Of course, I’m not blaming you for not warning us; our own safety is our responsibility. But judging by your look, you seem to have no idea what happened there. If I recall correctly, that was one of your patrol areas."

"Two months ago... I remember there were exercises," Mr. Chaning coughed lightly, "That might have been a coincidence."

The statement sounded like an excuse for the Federation but also like he was convincing himself.

"It’s indeed not impossible," Midnight Chicken Killing paused and then continued, "but I think the Federal Navy should be aware of what happened there. After all, the patrol team returned the next day, and the blood on the beach wasn’t even cleaned up... Didn’t they warn you to beware of the mutant threat?"

Mr. Chaning’s expression gradually started to strain.

"No... Our main enemy is Shelter No. 70, and our main focus was on their submersibles."

After a pause, his expression became more solemn and he muttered in thought.

"This matter is a bit strange... Why would mutants be interested in the underwater pipelines."

"I think what you should be more concerned about is why the fleet that is supposed to protect you would selectively ignore such an obvious threat. Letting the Mutants come ashore is no joke, especially those with scales. I hear their penchant for torturing prey is even worse than those with green skins."

That was all he said.

Midnight Chicken Killing did not continue on this embarrassing topic.

He knew that although Mr. Chaning did not say it, he was certainly aware. Rather than whether a particular issue was properly resolved, it was more crucial that the issue was exposed as a problem. Otherwise, what had already happened twice could very likely not just happen a third or fourth time but countless times without people’s knowledge.

The Federal Fleet had tacitly permitted the Mutants’ military operations within their jurisdiction, without approval from the command center and without permission from the various settlements in the Southern sea area, for some purpose.

"Of course, this is just a friendly reminder. We have never placed our hopes for security on others. Whether the Federal Fleet offers us the necessary support or not, we will deal with those scaly fellows through our own means."

He gave the governor a meaningful look, turned around, and prepared to take his brothers from the Jungle Corps back to the ship.

Watching his back, Mr. Chaning’s Adam’s apple moved, and after a struggle, he finally couldn’t help but speak.

"Please, wait a moment."

Midnight Chicken Killing stopped, turned back, and looked at him with an inquiring glance.

"What is it?"

"I think... we need to enhance our cooperation in the security field, which may be even more urgent than economic cooperation."

With a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face, Mr. Chaning coughed lightly and awkwardly continued, "If we are attacked by Mutants, I hope we can count on your support... Of course, the same goes if you are attacked, and we will also share any alarm information we receive with you."

Since the Alliance apparently had a way to locate and eliminate the threat of the Mutants before they could attack the pipes, they had clearly established a patrol system that included intelligence gathering and interception strategies.

For whatever reason, the Federal Fleet’s two consecutive instances of negligence had made it impossible for him to trust those guys any longer.

Currently, Ring Island was exposed to the threat of Mutants, and he needed to add a firewall for the local survivors.

A more reliable firewall.

In exchange, he could share the intelligence network of Ring Island with the Alliance, and Potato Harbor would also receive any early warning signals from other islands.

In a way, this was equivalent to sharing map vision and verbally signing a mutual defense agreement.

Although Ring Island had no army or fleet of its own, the port itself could also serve as a military facility.

Apparently understanding Mr. Chaning’s implication, Midnight Chicken Killing showed a surprised expression and then laughed heartily, agreeing on the spot.

"No problem! If the opponents are Mutants, we will assist anytime and anywhere, not to mention that you are our partners."

He paused then continued.

"Of course, we are separated by two hundred nautical miles from you. If we wait until the attack happens before we come over, it might be too late. I suggest that you build an eight-hundred-meter-long airstrip next to the island, whether using concrete or steel. If our aircraft can land next to your island, we’ll be able to support you quicker."

Mr. Chaning took serious note of this advice and nodded.

"I’ll arrange for it as soon as possible."

...

At the same time that Jungle Corps was withdrawing from the port of Ring Island, a Federal destroyer, informed by the Alliance’s aircraft, continued to forge ahead toward the sea area where the battle occurred.

Some things cannot be made clear over the communication channels; they must be confirmed with one’s own eyes.

Silence in the bridge.

Whether it was Captain Dongwen or any of the officers under his command, at this moment, they all silently stared at the vast sea directly ahead.

In fact, both the captain and his officers had heard about the friends in the North, constantly taking care of some troubles for them.

However, what they hadn’t expected was that the attackers turned out to be mutants!

What was even more unacceptable to them was that the incident had taken place only a hundred nautical miles away from Circular Island...

"There must be some misunderstanding here..." the aide-de-camp said, sweating profusely, "After all... the higher-ups wouldn’t resort to using those creatures."

There were better ways.

If push came to shove, even getting the Federation’s fleet involved was not out of the question.

Dongwen didn’t speak; his gaze remained intently fixed on the undulating waves in the distance.

It was then that his pupils abruptly contracted, as a mutilated arm suddenly surfaced amidst the churning foam.

He quickly realized it wasn’t just one...

Body after body, dismembered and incomplete, bobbed with the waves, their blue scales and skin declaring their identity.

Variants, lured by the scent of blood, were chasing and gnawing at the corpses, oblivious to the military ship a stone’s throw away.

The aide-de-camp standing beside Dongwen swallowed hard and managed to squeeze out a sentence from his throat.

"...mutants."

And not just one or two...

So many corpses—it had to be at least a thousand!

The realization made cold sweat slide off his chin.

If these mutants were to swim along the pipeline another eighty or so nautical miles southeast, the consequences could be unimaginable...

Dongwen silently stared at the carnage on the sea’s surface, then glanced at the sonar screen where signals flickered and jumped.

There was a "Laken."

It seemed to have sensed the mind interference signals emitted by the warship and was twisting its injured body, trying to escape towards the north.

More than a dozen oddly-shaped submersibles were in pursuit—those must be something the Alliance came up with. Although the condition of these submersibles wasn’t the best, likely having suffered damage in the previous battle, they didn’t seem to be willing to let go of their prey, which had swum right into their lap.

Having promised to support the pilot in a previous communication, Dongwen turned to his aide-de-camp and ordered,

"Fire the torpedo."

He paused, then added,

"Also, use a trawl net to haul up a few of the mutant corpses."

The aide-de-camp nodded solemnly and saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

As the combat order was issued, a torpedo was launched from its tube into the sea, speeding towards the target locked by sonar.

Without any suspense, the torpedo struck easily, its burst of air and flame instantly shredding the massive form, dispatching the battered Laken with a single shot.

The Alliance’s submersibles made a strange maneuver, gesturing with their mechanical arms, seemingly expressing their thanks.

Dongwen instructed his aide-de-camp to send them a communication sonar wave to say no need for thanks, then he walked alone out of the wheelhouse to the deck of the destroyer.

Just at that moment, a speedboat flying the Federation’s flag approached from a distance, casually drawing up alongside his destroyer.

Dongwen glanced at the person standing on the speedboat and recognized the man’s name; he seemed to be Muda, probably the captain of the Marine Patrol Team.

As he observed the man, the man was observing him too before glancing once again at the net thrown toward the sea surface.

Seeming to make up his mind, the man signaled his speedboat to approach the destroyer and clambered aboard using the ladder attached to the ship’s hull.

Captain Dongwen didn’t stop him, only watched in silence.

"It’s a big catch. It looks like you’ve got plenty of spoils. Fortunately, you discovered the problem in time and didn’t let this group of swimming experts reach our little island."

Narrowing his eyes at the blood-red sea, Muda approached and spoke with a hint of faint mockery in his voice.

"The residents of Ring Island are all waiting for me to go back and tell them what happened here. How about sharing one of them with me for closure? That way, I wouldn’t have to cast my own net."

Captain Dongwen didn’t pick up on his cue, remaining silent for a moment before speaking.

"It looks like you already know something."

"Did I hear you right, are you asking me? So, the person who’s been watching from the side is me?" Muda looked at him with a feigned surprise, laughing as he said, "Or maybe we should just switch boats, you take my speedboat, and I’ll take your destroyer."

Even though it was just an exaggerated joke, the Captain seemed to take it seriously and, after thinking it over, he replied earnestly.

"It’s not entirely out of the question."

"Forget it."

Muda chuckled, looking toward the vast sea.

"More than a thousand mutants, pushing right into our territorial waters, and our fleet just watched from the side, applauding and cheering them on... You know everything yet you still want an answer from me; I understood two months ago that we couldn’t count on you."

Captain Dongwen stayed silent for a long time, then sighed.

"I’m sorry, brother."

"I’m not your brother," Muda glanced at him, "You don’t need to say sorry to me. You should be saying it to the tens of thousands of survivors on Ring Island, and to the millions of residents across the Federation. It’s they who pay your wages... and mine."

Perhaps out of shame, the Captain slowly closed his eyes.

Seeing that he hadn’t spoken for a while, Muda continued.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Tell me the truth," Muda said, looking at the Captain, "Was it really the residents of Shelter No. 70 who blew up the current power station?"

Captain Dongwen was silent for a bit, then slowly said.

"Probably not."

Muda stared into his eyes.

"Was it you?"

"No."

Captain Dongwen shook his head, but without a pause, he also heaved a sigh and added.

"...But it doesn’t make a difference anymore."

Muda furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?"

Without directly answering the question, the Captain said with implication.

"We, who were supposed to extinguish the flames, allowed the fire to burn in the hope that it would deal with those nuisances we couldn’t handle ourselves. I should have realized that one day our own indecision would also become a nuisance."

Unable to hold back, Muda asked.

"So why did you do it?"

Captain Dongwen spoke calmly.

"Because there’s only one chance. If we don’t act decisively, the survivors of the Federation will never unite to pull down those deceitful figures from their altar. And once their Managers return and extract the weapons stored in the shelters, this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity will be lost."

"So what now? Are we more united?"

Muda gazed intently into his eyes. Seeing that he couldn’t say a word, disappointment gradually filled his gaze.

"We, capable and bodied, are waiting for others to do our dirty work, and then someone else to clean up after us, just because you keep secrets from me, and I keep secrets from you."

Chewing over his words, he managed to force out the last with disappointment.

"...How do you expect me to continue believing in you?"

Captain Dongwen looked into the distance, unwilling to see those disappointed eyes, and gently straightened the officer’s cap on his head.

"I told you this because I feel what we did is wrong. I don’t expect you to continue believing in me... but please give me one more chance."

Muda could feel that those words weren’t meant just for him, but rather for the survivors of Ring Island behind him.

The disappointment and mockery in his eyes gradually faded, and he asked seriously.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Make up for past mistakes."

Having said that, Captain Dongwen paused momentarily, took out a thumb-sized card from his chest, and handed it to the head of the Marine Patrol Team.

It was a storage card containing the recording of his conversation with Mr. Charles and another audio he recorded afterward.

It included some details that all members of the Federal Fleet more or less knew about but dared not to disclose openly.

He knew this alone couldn’t convince everyone.

But he believed it could persuade at least some who felt like him.

Muda looked at him questioningly.

"What is this?"

Staring into his eyes, Captain Dongwen said solemnly.

"Take it to the port at Anle Island and give it to the person who’s waiting there for me."

Looking at the storage card in his hand, Muda stayed silent for a moment before looking at him and asking.

"Why don’t you go yourself?"

"I need to go to North Island."

His gaze fixed on the north, his look became more determined, and his voice lost any hint of hesitation.

At this moment, he resembled a true captain.

"There are cracks appearing in our ship’s hull."

"Before the rift widens beyond repair, someone must step forward to correct the mistakes we’ve made!"

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.