This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 723: The Vow from Two Hundred Years Ago

Chapter 723: Chapter 723: The Vow from Two Hundred Years Ago

Angry voices echoed within the spacious cavity, even disturbing the water at the edge of the square, creating circles of ripples.

The crew of the Glory standing on the concrete floor involuntarily stopped in their tracks, momentarily uncertain how to proceed.

The atmosphere on the scene turned somewhat stiff.

Or rather, awkward.

Especially for the few "outsiders" from Shelter No. 404—Sesame Paste didn’t know what to do and turned to Si Si, whose tail had quietly started toying with Meat Meat’s chest hair, with nowhere else to put her hands.

Si Si glanced at the door of the refuge and made eye contact with Sesame Paste, who was casting questioning looks, then shook her head.

"There’s no terminal."

"Ah, this..."

A look of headache appeared on Sesame Paste’s face.

But this was also quite reasonable.

After all, according to what Captain Chen had said, this place was originally the construction entrance for Shelter No. 70 and was preserved as a backup entrance upon completion. It was quite possible that the gear giant door was added last.

Given it was similar to an emergency exit and virtually never used, there was no need to open it from the outside, so the absence of a terminal connecting to the refuge’s security system made sense.

"...It might be better to let them solve this themselves," whispered the tail that had been braiding two braids on Meat Meat’s belly.

She was from the Agile system.

Right when she came ashore, she had noticed that the door had no place to enter a password.

"I think so too."

Si Si nodded and cast her gaze toward the distance, speaking meaningfully, "If refuge authority could solve all problems, the problems wouldn’t have arisen in the first place."

She had once had the privilege to access such authority in Shelter No.79.

And for this reason—unlike most players who had never touched that key—she was very clear that it wasn’t a wish-fulfilling machine capable of anything; using it inappropriately could just mess things up even more.

Perhaps for the same reason, the Manager had entrusted that key to her, someone who had used a "Manager Access Experience Card."

Facing the tightly closed giant door, Dongwen fell silent for a while before letting out a soft sigh.

"...You’re right, we indeed aren’t worthy of your help."

No sooner had his voice faded than a tumultuous roar burst forth from the broadcast.

"Stop with the pretentious self-reflection! You think we’d believe you?"

"Ungrateful scum!"

"Go back where you came from!"

"Just fight it out, and better yet, tear down that Coral City. We’ll come out after you’re all dead!"

"Don’t you dare miss us later—we’re not worthy, thank you very much!"

The crew members lowered their heads, silently staring at the Dolphin-class submarine, wanting to return but recalling that this submarine was strictly speaking, also property of Shelter No. 70.

Listening to the relentless clamor of the broadcast, Chen Jianhong moved to one side of the cave, searching along the wall with a flashlight in hand.

After a moment, he seemed to have found what he was looking for, stopped his fumbling hands, and yelled toward the noisy broadcast.

"Enough!"

The square fell silent for a moment.

The people in the broadcast room were clearly stunned, as they hadn’t expected Captain Chen to lash out at them.

"...If you still want the brethren of Shelter No. 404 to laugh at me, I don’t mind, but please lower your heads and look at the coat on you, then ask it what our forebears said when they entered the shelter."

The square seemed to fall into silence.

No one responded.

But Chen Jianhong hadn’t intended to wait for them to answer anyway. He simply cleared his throat and read out the words covered in dust on the wall, word by word, sentence by sentence.

"...Thank you for your trust and sacrifice; you are the greatest contributors to our civilization!"

"I will be grateful and carry on with today’s shame and your memories."

"We will always remember the hardships you’re enduring at this moment! I swear here and now, that your children will live in a beautiful new world! It will be an era of greater unity than the Prosperity Epoch, and it will be the grandest moment in the history of our civilization!"

"...I’m sorry we can’t take everyone, but this is the only choice, for all of us to have a bright and beautiful future."

"Do you have ancestors here? Don’t hurry, I haven’t finished reading, there’s still a long list..." Saying loudly, Chen Jianhong continued along the wall, brushing off the dust with his hand, his gaze upon the wall suddenly pausing.

His pupils reflected a hint of complexity as he looked toward the refuge’s gate and read out the phrase he just saw.

"From now on, your children are our children..."

The square was silent.

Those words, like sharp knives, pierced the hearts of all the residents of Shelter No. 70.

Chen Jianhong was certain that more than just those dozen or so people were gathered in the broadcast room now.

They, like him, having been cooped up in the shelter for four months without bars, without news, with only those scarce entertainment facilities of the shelter and the unappetizing stored food. They were used to life outside, and it was a miracle they could stand staying in there!

Probably all the thousands of people in the shelter were gathered around the holographic screens, waiting to mock those "poor wretches."

After a long silence, a timid cough without much conviction came from the broadcast.

"...But no matter what, this is our shelter, and we have the right to decide how to use it."

"’Our’ shelter!"

Chen Jianhong looked at the rectangular gear door and repeated the phrase, then said each word deliberately.

"Place your hand over your heart and tell me loud and clear, who does this shelter belong to! Who built it!"

Silence spread across the square.

Only his resounding roar echoed back.

Looking at the silent broadcast, Chen Jianhong slowly began to speak.

"...You all know, you just don’t want to think about it. No matter, I am a member of Shelter No. 70, I’ll say it for you."

He pointed towards the refuge’s gate, like a tour guide, to the people standing behind him.

"That alloy giant door, undoubtedly, came from a factory of the Prosperity Epoch. I don’t know which factory completed this shield, but I’m sure someone cast it, someone polished it, someone mounted it on its tracks, someone designed its locks and codes... It’s the result of a huge and meticulous industrial chain, and various installations similar to it constructed our era of prosperity. To be precise, it is the collective achievement of all participants on that production chain."

"Not just this door!"

"Also, the drivers who dug out this cave, the designers who planned the shelter’s various functional areas, the engineers who installed your reactor and light bulbs, even the miners piloting mining ships in outer space... Of course, this also includes the teachers who trained these talents, the doctors who treated them, the parents who raised them, and the countless United Human citizens who contributed sweat, creativity, and taxes—"

"You tell me, where are they now!"

Looking at the unresponsive great door and the silent broadcast, Chen Jianhong took a deep breath and released the foul air in his chest along with the words he had held back for a long time.

"If you don’t want to say it, let me do it. Without a doubt, they all died, most people died... that’s clear as day. The refuge was designed for the Wasteland Era, but our planet never was. It’s like a spacious and beautiful house that can accommodate many people without any problems when it’s in good condition. However, once the house collapses, 99% of the people are sure to die!"

"Some people were lucky enough to survive, but their nightmares had just begun. The endless winter, mutants infected and altered by radiation and disease, and the despair of heaven collapsing. A few lived on as humans, while many more were twisted by the environment into beasts... Maybe only 1% of the survivors remained, or even less, but who knows? It’s simply impossible to keep count in that kind of situation!"

"They endured through hell until the 50th year of the Wasteland Era, a full fifty years! They survived until they and their children lay down in their graves together, until their grandchildren had just come of age! Only then did the nightmare start to show signs of ending. But not long after, new troubles followed one after another."

Chen Jianhong tapped his index finger on the wall inscribed with words, his tone tinged with irony.

"This is what happened outside, when did we open our doors? In the 100th year of the Wasteland Era! The 50th anniversary after the Ring Island was built! Our ancestors promised that the children of those left outside would live in paradise, but it turned out we moved into their paradise first."

"Do you think you’re enlighteners or colonizers from another planet?"

"Listening to the stories of the Prosperity Epoch from our forebears, dreaming sweet dreams at night, shouting slogans about rebuilding the Prosperity Epoch, but what do you really think in your hearts? Rebuild the Prosperity Epoch? Ha, don’t try to fool me! I’m bloody well one of you!"

"Those natives must certainly treat us like gods, right? They must drop their jaws at the sight of the omnipotent Black Box, right? They must kneel in gratitude when they see the refuge’s doors open, right? Just like those poor ancestors of theirs knelt in front of the refuge’s doors, begging your ancestors to crack open the door. Now they certainly must kneel in front of the door thanking us for finally opening it! Am I right?"

By this point, his voice grew soft, like a needle falling to the ground, weaving the dreams he once had.

"...Yes, we have the knowledge and machines of the Prosperity Epoch, and even those Black Boxes that were designed so that baboons who couldn’t recognize a single word could use them, so much so that we could even add a cube of sugar to our tea while those fools eat dirt—in their eyes, aren’t we like gods? Or should I say ’they,’ to better match our true thoughts?"

"More than a dozen small islands have no future, and they certainly can’t rebuild Utopia. So we drove those survivors who had fled from the land to the sea back to develop settlements on shore. Later, we called the deaths a minor twist on the correct path, blaming it on those natives being afraid of death, deserving their ancestors’ inability to enter the refuge, leaving us no choice but to bear the high cost of building houses for them under the sea."

"Now they don’t listen, they aren’t grateful anymore, and we can’t afford to play this game, crying like a child, saying, ’Get lost, we won’t play with you anymore. We’ll come out again after you all die, to rebuild a Prosperity Epoch that’s only ours.’"

"No wonder the refuge set a maximum limit for shelter... In my opinion, their madness is understandable; it’s you who hid in that hole that are truly mad!"

In the end, his voice had changed, as if he was a different person, almost hysterically shouting.

For a long time, there was nothing in the square but the sound of faint gasps and the echoes of his shout. And the previously noisy broadcast couldn’t utter a word.

It was an undeniable truth that the refuge isn’t a refuge for a single person or a group of people, but a haven for human civilization.

After a long silence, Chen Jianhong slowly continued.

"During my time in the City of Dawn, I thought about it a lot, including just now on the submarine."

"I was thinking, if my ancestors really came back, it’s hard to say for whom they would feel shame for their naivety."

At this point, a dull voice came from the broadcast.

It seemed to be trying to soothe his emotions, and the voice was very soft.

"I understand your feelings, but... what you’ve talked about is too distant. Two centuries ago, we might have been brethren with those outside people, but you also have to realize that after two hundred years, they and we might not be the same kind of people."

Chen Jianhong didn’t find any comfort in those words, and instead, he laughed out loud.

"So the vows made 200 years ago don’t count, meaning the vows carved in these walls were lies from the very beginning, right?"

An angry roar came through the broadcast.

"Chen Jianhong! Whose side are you really on!"

"I’m on the side of humanity! What about you? On the side of human-like creatures?"

He responded fearlessly to the roar, pointing behind him.

"Just look at those people you most look down upon, that Federation you view as a joke! It couldn’t even last four months being built on lies, it didn’t even need a push before it crumbled on its own! What about you? Can your Prosperity Epoch, rebuilt on a mouthful of lies, last four months? Not to mention you haven’t even gone back, is there even a glimmer of hope for you nuts to go back?"

"While you were making foolish mistakes, what were the other refuges doing?"

Not giving the person on the broadcast a chance to speak, Chen Jianhong pointed to the girl with long hair beside him, repeating that sentence with a deafening shout.

"...From the moment we stepped out of the refuge, we were prepared for our mission, for death is just a return to us! This is what she told me! This is what their actions told me! Do you think we got here by waiting for the mutants to drown themselves and then sneaking over?"

The topic had suddenly turned to herself, and Si Si found herself at a loss between laughter and tears, never expecting that guy to take her casual words seriously.

But—

Although she had spoken those words offhandedly, she certainly hadn’t lied.

They had indeed prepared themselves for their mission.

Especially when they checked the box in the reservation form that read "swear allegiance under the United Human flag..." they had firmly established their identity, responsibility, and obligations, as well as the penalties they would have to endure for breaching various terms.

Death, for them as players, was indeed just a return, even though they could come back many times.

As a reward for their bravery, their Manager would even pay them a "salary"—through the special channel called the Silver Coin Exchange.

However, regardless of the premise, one fact was incontestable.

The residents of Shelter No. 404 fearlessly charged ahead of everyone, always standing on the front lines whether in battle or exploration.

Even though most did not act with noble motives, and among them were many jesters and performance artists, by any moral standard, their actions were undoubtedly worthy of high praise.

At least, they were on the whole.

And it was because of this that those Waste Land Wanderers, inspired by them, were willing to become their followers.

Though the focus had shifted to her, Si Si thought it better to remain quiet and play the part of a backdrop, waiting for the NPC to finish the storyline.

Fortunately, the captain didn’t seem intent on throwing the conversation her way, and his voice didn’t pause for even a moment.

Clearly, he understood as well.

This was a matter internal to Shelter No. 70, and it wasn’t for outsiders to interfere...

"...They brought the survivors together, and what were we doing at that time? The more we tried to fix the leaks in our ship, the more they seemed to increase, and in the end, when we couldn’t fix them anymore, our Manager didn’t know what to do and actually went out to find the War Construction Committee that has been gone for a century and a half! Of course, we were even stupider. Without those weapons from the shelter, we couldn’t last a few months; we’d rather lock ourselves back in here than face our own kin!"

As he spoke, his eyes held a trace of contempt.

"How pathetic. You blame Sun Yuechi for not opening the armory for you, right? Now we’ve brought the key. Take it and get those weapons out!"

"Use the guns and cannons made by the ancestors of those survivors outside to wipe out their children without leaving a single one! If there’s enough stock for it! That would be sending them to heaven!"

"It doesn’t matter if every single person dies; we can go rob some real slaves from Poluo Province and have them build your so-called Colony Epoch for you! You don’t need to build them houses or give them a meal; they can lick your toes with their disgusting tongues. The moment you frown in displeasure, they would kill those you don’t like for you, even if it’s their own kin or neighbors!"

Pausing a moment, the disdain in his eyes gradually solidified, and he stared unwaveringly at the immovable shelter door.

"...As for me, I will stand with those I truly respect. I will unite with the survivors outside. I believe my forefathers would be relieved and proud of my choice at this moment, rather than like your forefathers, who carry a lifetime of shame and regret, leaving their jokes as epitaphs on this wall!"

Having finally said all that was on his mind, he took a deep breath and turned to head towards the Dolphin.

Although it was regrettable, he had to admit that there was no union here that he yearned for; the Enlightenment Society might be more suitable for them.

Actually, the Alliance wasn’t the perfect union either.

They also had people who could not be united, and those they had no way to unite with temporarily.

He still remembered what the Manager told him: those who have ideals but do not watch their step are like the hottest coals, blown to ashes by a gust of wind. He would never ask his supporters to be such people, nor did he ever ask them to chant slogans about rebuilding the Prosperity Epoch.

To Chen Jianhong, that seemed more like a humble remark, for their actions already lived up to their vows.

They were always at the forefront of the Waste Land Wanderers!

And these people...

Including himself from a few months ago, were nothing but cold, hard stones.

Perhaps when they first came out, their ancestors had also burned for ideals, just like the residents of Shelter No. 404 now.

But such a thing was truly too far off.

Even farther away than the pledges made two hundred years ago...

Just as he had lost all hope of persuading these stubborn fellows, the gear embedded in the wall suddenly produced a slight click.

Like a mechanical watch that hadn’t been oiled in years, suddenly the spring was wound tight again.

"Roar—"

Amidst the ding-ding clatter and deafening roar, the giant gear rolling to one side slowly opened the passage behind it.

Chen Jianhong stopped in his tracks, looked back, and a look of surprise involuntarily spread across his face.

About a hundred people stood at the entrance to the passage.

He couldn’t see their expressions, but he could feel pairs of eyes all watching him.

His Adam’s apple moved slightly, and Chen Jianhong suddenly felt a trembling surge from deep within his soul, rising from the back of his neck to his eyes.

Facial muscles twitched slightly, and in order not to let that uncontrollable expression show on his face, he grinned and laughed towards the crowd.

"Are you here for the key?"

"Don’t be like that, Brother Chen..." Lin Nuo, standing at the door, sighed, and his gaze drifted to the wall inscribed with words.

"We’ve made up our minds with difficulty, is that all you have to say to us? Being clear about the account hurts feelings. Of course, I’m not saying you’re wrong, this kind of thing doesn’t really have a right or wrong. Anyway... leave us some dignity."

The person standing beside him had the same expression, apparently the one who had snapped up the microphone just now.

After another cough, that person spoke.

"Let’s think about how to resolve the trouble at hand..."

Cleaning up the aftermath might be more troublesome than expected.

But at least they now had like-minded allies.

After a pause, that person glanced at Chen Jianhong, and again at the residents of Shelter No. 404 not far away, and at the crew members from Glory considering whether or not to return to the submarine.

"In any case..."

"Come in and let’s talk."

...

In the seas near Coral City, the reef-strewn seabed was littered with branches and severed limbs.

Two huge mechanical crabs lay on the rocks, one missing three legs, the other with only three remaining.

The communication channel buzzed with a hiss of electricity.

After a long silence, intermittent voices reached the ears of the ground model.

"... Ground Model."

The voice was tired yet carried a hint of contentment.

Like after an intense and thrilling sport.

No—

This was far more pleasing than that.

Without a doubt, they had just annihilated the ace of the Aquatic Variant Humans.

There must have been seven or eight hundred Level 20 to 30 Elite Monsters.

Though the price paid was steep, wasn’t that exactly what they were following Brother Chicken for?

Blood sacrifice to the blood god, skulls offered to the skull throne... of course, long live the true emperor!

It would have been nice if the three-day wait could pass a little faster...

Of course, it would have been even better if they could have saved their progress before dying.

Having finally reconnected, the ground model swayed his groggy head and responded as he looked at the observation window glass crisscrossed with cracks.

"Ah... I just got back online, the connection dropped earlier."

After a moment of silence on the other end of the communication channel, a laugh came through.

"Damn... tired to this sorry state in just an hour?"

"Shut up." The ground model rolled his eyes and started checking on the remaining three mechanical legs.

Of the nineteen "King Crabs," only two were left, both heavily damaged.

Glancing at the remaining icons in the team list, the ground model couldn’t help but curse.

"This armor is freaking terrible!"

"Cough... hahaha!"

"What are you laughing at, huh?"

"It’s no use blaming the gear if you’re not up to it... cough, but to be fair, this thing really isn’t as good in the water as it is on land, the mobility is indeed pretty uncomfortable."

Unlike the curvilinear mobility of the Aquatic Variant Humans, the "King Crab’s" movements were mostly straightforward, resulting in erratic water currents that not only gave away the direction of attack but also consumed a lot of mechanical energy in combating the resistance of the water flow.

In contrast, the Elite Mutant Humans were much more agile underwater, darting around the reefs like fish.

Especially when they used underwater rifles, portable torpedo launchers, thermite bombs, and other weapons capable of penetrating the "King Crab’s" armor, the battle became exceedingly challenging.

Recalling the fierce battle that had just ensued, the ground model sighed and said,

"... Indeed, the beach is where crabs belong, they should be quite effective during amphibious landings."

The communication channel: "+1, and it would be better if it came with a nitrogen shield or deflection shield... well, we should grind more tasks from the scientific research groups when we get back."

One or two defeats didn’t count for much, they would only be stronger three days later.

Faced with the silent deep sea and floating corpses around, the player sitting in the cockpit suddenly thought of something and asked over the communication channel.

"So, what do we do now?"

The ground model paused, a bit confused too.

"I don’t know..."

There were only the two of them left in the team, while the wreckage had its value for salvage, they definitely couldn’t manage it on their own.

The "King Crab" amphibious armor was only for individual soldiers and wasn’t equipped for long treks.

Relying on those battered legs to return to Potato Harbor, they might not make it back until public testing of the game.

Just as the ground model was hesitating whether to shut down on the spot or wait for the Dolphin-class submarine to come pick them up, the sonar sensors mounted on the exterior of the King Crab suddenly detected an abnormal disturbance coming from above them.

The noise was faint.

If they weren’t close enough, their sonar systems might not have caught anything.

The Ground Model quickly raised his head and saw a submarine slowly coming from the north.

A sound of swallowing saliva came through the communication channel.

"That is..." the Ground Model said hoarsely.

"It’s probably a Federal submarine... stay down, and turn off all the devices!"

Earlier on the Dolphin, they had already listened to the broadcast from North Island.

Without any surprises, Charles’s authorities leading the North Federation had already joined forces with the Torch Station. Which meant this submarine might be coming to support the blocking of the Variants here.

Thinking of this, the Ground Model couldn’t help but sink in his heart.

In just a few short hours, these guys had already broken free from the initial chaos.

If they had hesitated for even an hour longer at Potato Harbor, it would not be a group of Variants intercepting the Dolphin now, but a real attack-type nuclear fusion-powered submarine!

Two King Crabs lay motionless in the wreckage, entering silent running.

The submarine clearly discovered them as a bright light shone directly above their heads.

The Ground Model felt his heart pounding fiercely and held his breath involuntarily.

Fortunately, the big guy floating not far above their heads didn’t seem to think they were still alive, only searching around for a bit before giving up.

The sonar system on the other side was definitely still on. The Ground Model didn’t dare to start the engine and didn’t dare to communicate with his teammates.

What he needed to do now was quietly remain an observer here for as long as possible and pass on the situation here through the official Forum to Tail and the others who might already be in Shelter No. 70.

The submarine seemed to be guarding against something. It had just turned on the searchlight for a moment before hurriedly turning it off again, then changed direction and headed west.

Just as the Ground Model puzzled over what this guy was up to, a faint noise was suddenly caught by his sonar sensor.

The ripple nearly vanished in a flash, so fast it seemed like an illusion!

Barely discernable, as the Ground Model looked upwards, he seemed to catch a glimpse of a speeding black shadow silently scurrying over the top of him.

Then, the shadow collided squarely with the side of that submarine and erupted into a blinding flash of fire!

"Boom—!"

The roar of the explosion, along with the surging current, rolled in, blowing him and the only remaining teammate lying on the seabed hundreds of meters away.

The colorfully bizarre fireball burned fiercely in the deep sea; the water near that submarine boiled, releasing vast plumes of dense bubbles.

The submarine, hit on the side, seemed to have a huge hole in it, the caving armor emitting a burdened groan as it lost power and tumbled downward.

Refusing to go down without a fight, it fired two torpedoes into a pitch-black sea area.

However, from the exploding plume of fire, it was apparent that the torpedoes hit nothing, only striking a steep cliff.

Finally stabilizing the rolling chassis, the Ground Model looked toward the submarine that had heavily crashed on the seabed, his eyes nearly popping out.

"What the fuck?!"

What the hell?

The BOSS was taken out as soon as it spawned?!

Although even if the NPCs hadn’t snagged the kill, he hadn’t figured out how to take down that kind of BOSS...

...

"Nice!"

Meanwhile, at the Anle Island Naval Base command center, the tense atmosphere was broken by a round of exhilarating cheers.

Even Commander Li Minghui, who had a stern face all the while, couldn’t help but relax his furrowed brows.

It wasn’t just the North Federation Fleet that had overcome the chaos and entered combat mode; the Anle Island Fleet had done the same.

Rather, compared to Charles’s forced hardiness, they were the real soldiers who were apt at fighting.

Considering the Torch Church’s interest in Coral City, they immediately judged that the Torch Church’s ships or Variant Humans might take advantage of the Federal Fleet’s internal conflict to strike, and so they decisively dispatched the "Shark’s Tooth" and "Arctic," two nuclear attack submarines moored at Anle Island.

They hadn’t expected not to encounter any Variants, but they managed to catch another big fish!

They didn’t wait long before receiving communication signals from near Coral City.

"This is ’Shark’s Tooth’... Cold Night has sunk, we will continue in silent running."

Suppressing the excitement in his heart, Li Minghui clenched his fist on the command table and replied solemnly.

"...This is the command center, we have received! Be extra careful of their destroyer, and remember your main target! That battleship!"

The North Federation had only one Cold Night-class submarine!

Now, the remaining three submarines were all in his hands!

Counting a cruiser and two destroyers, although their military power still lagged far behind North Island, they at least had gained some advantage.

At the same time, on North Island of the North Federation, Charles, sitting in the Presidential Mansion, cursed and slammed a pen onto the chart after hearing the subordinate’s report.

"Real fucking useless!"

Cold Night was sunk!

The only nuclear submarine under his command had been lost in the first engagement!

Though the advantage was still in his hands, this was clearly not a good sign.

Looking at the subordinate holding his breath beside him, Charles yelled.

"Get the shipyard to start work immediately! Don’t worry about the cost; use whatever materials we can!"

There were several unfinished projects at the North Island shipyard, including a destroyer whose main framework had already been constructed.

If things went quickly, they could have it out of port within two months.

As for raw materials...

It might be difficult to start mining ocean floor resources at this moment, but Haiya Province could help them solve part of the problem.

Charles picked up the ballpoint pen from the table again, leaned on the chart with both hands, and pondered severely.

Perhaps...

He could consider leveraging North Island’s industrial advantage and arm their allies, maybe providing those "fishermen" with more substantial equipment and such.

This seemed more practical than rushing to build a few destroyers.

Watching the furious president and the blood on the table that had not yet dried, the aide dared not retort and stood up straight with a salute.

"Yes!"