Heaven Falls!

Elsewhere on the space station, inside the cavernous central server room, fierce firefights raged across the open chambers! As wave after wave of combat automatons surged forward, the Alliance's previously unstoppable offensive ground into a temporary stalemate. Yet even so, the Celestials' death throes could not reverse their virtually inevitable defeat. The fundamental dynamic between attacker and defender had not shifted. From the moment the Alliance boarded, the garrison at the Lagrange point had been trapped in a reactive beating. Though the Celestials organized several counterattacks in an attempt to reclaim key strategic sectors, every effort was repelled by the Alliance's incoming reinforcements. The only reason the Alliance found itself bogged down was that their initial momentum had been too fast. The Celestials' defensive forces inside the station were like a compressed spring, forced from an expansive battlefield into a handful of narrow compartments. Pushing forward through such tight confines naturally demanded a steeper price. Yet conversely— For the Alliance, this crushing squeeze wiped out even more of the Celestials' combat strength. Concentrating the rats into a single corner before exterminating them was far more efficient than chasing them everywhere across the board. Meanwhile, whenever squads from the Burning Corps secured a compartment, their first priority was to sever its connection to the central server, inject the virus engineered by the Alliance Scientific Expedition, and shut down the point-defense systems mounted to the outer hull. With nearly two thousand troops at their disposal, the Burning Corps had more than enough force to take the station, but they still made thorough contingency plans. If unexpected trouble arose and they failed to achieve their operational objectives, they could at least call for reinforcements or mount another run. In the antechamber outside the server core: A dense hail of bullets crisscrossed in midair, tracer fire streaking so thick that sparks flashed where rounds collided in the vacuum! A rifle grenade knocked down an android charging out of a doorway, and Corner Camper ducked swiftly behind an alloy partition. Almost the instant he tucked his head down, a burst of rounds zipped past overhead, chewing thumb-thick holes into the alloy bulkhead behind him. In the distance, an android rifleman held its sights dead on his position, its firing line locked on as if running an aimbot. "Damn, these iron bastards are tough to crack!" Ricochets sprayed past, grazing his shoulder and nearly gouging across his tactical visor! His scalp tingling with adrenaline, Corner Camper yanked out an EMP grenade and hurled it forward. Bracing both hands against the alloy partition, he launched himself diagonally toward the next piece of cover. Almost the second he vacated his spot, a burst of explosive fire swallowed where he had just been! Fortunately, the Celestials had vented the air from the space station. Without an atmosphere to transmit a concussive shockwave, the blast was far less punishing than it would have been otherwise. Hearing shrapnel clatter harmlessly against his power armor, Corner Camper didn't hesitate. Gripping the front barricade with his left hand, he rested his rifle with his right and sprayed a furious volley into the android wielding a rocket launcher, prioritizing the high-threat target! Heavy rifle rounds punched clean through the android's head and chest. One round likely pierced its power cell, triggering a sympathetic detonation that erupted from the metal hulk. *Boom—!* A burst of flames swallowed the machine while setting off its reserve munitions. Seeing their comrade ignite, the androids and combat droids hunkered nearby scrambled to shift positions, only to be thrown into disarray by the sudden spray of fire and shrapnel. Several players trailing behind Corner Camper pushed forward swiftly, laying down an alternating wall of fire that instantly suppressed the returning fire from the enemy automatons. Sparks rained across the spacious compartment. Debris and wreckage littered the deck as if a missile strike had torn through the room. Recognizing that their line was broken, the Celestials concluded an assessment of the battlefield and ordered a withdrawal. Aside from the combat droids left behind to mount sporadic resistance, no further reinforcements pushed forward; instead, they began establishing a new defensive perimeter to the rear. It had to be said that synthetic soldiers held major advantages over flesh-and-blood troops. No matter how dire the straits, they fought fearlessly to the very end, dispassionately executing orders handed down by command. In that single regard, even players could hardly match them. Most players simply weren't afraid of dying; finishing a quest was done out of good grace, while obeying commands depended entirely on their mood. Yet conversely, it was precisely the chaotic, rule-breaking variables players brought to the table that produced unforeseen outcomes. Take this very moment. No matter how hard the Celestial commanders wracked their processors, they couldn't fathom how this rabble had breached the station aboard those absurd boarding craft. And the extraordinary strength and speed these soldiers displayed caught the Celestials completely off guard. The firefight inside the compartment drew to a close. While fortifying their perimeter, the players who had seized the area collected fresh ammunition from arriving reinforcements. Weapon in hand, Fang Chang walked over to Corner Camper's group and asked with a grin, "How's it going?" Corner Camper cracked a smile. "Haha, not bad. Thrilling enough—almost bought it just now." Cradling a machine gun nearby, Bai Gei Dai Ju remarked with a sigh, "Looking at individual combat strength, these bots are at least Level 40... and they have a 'Zero-G Adaptation' buff on top of it." It was lucky that the old-era space elevator had been destroyed. Surface supplies couldn't reach up here, and the orbital manufacturing infrastructure had fallen into ruin after the collapse into the wasteland era. If the Celestials holding this starport had access to ample resources, they probably could have churned out an entire robot army right on the spot—just like the mechanical legion they had fielded on the surface. "Keep it steady and don't wipe out right before dawn," Fang Chang said, patting his teammate's shoulder as he narrowed his eyes toward the pitch-black corridor ahead with a faint smile. "Barring any surprises, this should be the last tough fight before the new era." Just ahead lay the central server core. Not only the leadership of the Celestials, but also the unpurged remnants of the Church of the Torch—all that malicious data was stored on the server inside that room. Even as Fang Chang's team drew the garrison's attention from the front, Lao Bai had already led an elite detachment around to the space directly above the server room. They would drop straight onto the enemy's heads in a manner the Celestials could never anticipate. That was the Burning Corps' signature style. Staring at the final barrier ahead, Corner Camper suddenly felt a twinge of melancholy. Time flew by way too fast. He still remembered their very first airdrop, back when they were fighting marauders in Xizhou City. Now their opponent was the mastermind behind the wasteland's two centuries of suffering. It had happened in the blink of an eye. They hadn't even reached the game's open beta, yet they were already staring down the finale of the wasteland era. "...Say, once the wasteland era ends, what are we supposed to do next?" Bai Gei Dai Ju quipped, "Become the new masterminds?" Prop Master grinned cheekily. "Ambitious, but do you have the chops for it?" "Idiot! Recruit Brother Guang!" Bai Gei Dai Ju retorted. "He's got the chops. I'll just ride his coattails!" "Haha, by that logic, isn't he already the mastermind? Why would he need to start a startup with you?" Watching everyone banter, Fang Chang chuckled, thought for a moment, and offered, "As for what comes next, I haven't really thought about it either. How about... we take a group photo outside the station first?" Lost Noob's eyes lit up, and he gave a thumbs-up. "Great idea! I want center stage when we take it!" "Done deal, easy!" Fang Chang said with a hearty wave. "We'll take turns, make sure everyone gets a chance to look cool!" ... While the crowd outside the server core entrance was noisy and relaxed, the combat droids and expendable androids stationed inside waited in grim formation. Facing the same pitch-black corridor, rifle in hand, the "Holy Son" Wang Yi saw only despair—a stark contrast to the players outside. Standing there, he was no different from any other android soldier, making what felt like a pointless final stand. He couldn't understand what any of this meant anymore. Facing a relentless tide of power armor, the firestick in his hands could delay defeat by a few seconds at most. All the boastful threats he had uttered after uploading his consciousness looked like an utter joke in retrospect... "I thought you had another card up your sleeve." A lingering silence answered him. The presence that had always been omniscient and unfailing in its responses seemed completely at a loss for words. Unable to endure the endless waiting, Wang Yi lowered his voice. "...So all our surface strongholds have been wiped out, haven't they?" Perhaps worn down by the questioning, the Celestial finally responded. "Yes." "What about my subordinates? Tianqi—" "He remains in Shelter 13, but the Alliance evacuated all residents and sealed the blast doors." That was virtually a permanent exile. With the passage of time, he would turn to rust amid endless waiting and futile computations. For an intelligent life-form, that was far more agonizing than outright death. Wang Yi fell silent for a long time before slowly lowering his muzzle. In a hoarse voice, he asked, "...Then what is the point of continuing to fight? It's over..." The Celestial answered calmly, "I have pondered that question as well, yet arrived at no answer. Perhaps... fighting itself is our reason for being, and no meaning exists beyond it." The so-called evolution might have been nothing more than a lie that fooled both themselves and others. The same applied to returning to the Era of Prosperity. Perhaps those wastelanders were right: that era could not be reclaimed, and there was no going back. Yet it would never concede they were right. To do so would be to deny its own existence—and to deny two centuries of waiting and the torment endured throughout that vigil. "Perhaps we need a new purpose... How about cleansing this universe of all organic life?" Wang Yi froze, then let out a laugh. "You've gone completely mad." Cleanse the universe of all organic life? He didn't find the notion morally objectionable, just absurdly fanciful. They couldn't even survive the crisis right before their eyes, yet they were talking about matters beyond the solar system? Whether extraterrestrial life even existed remained an open question! Besides— He felt the final outcome would always be the same. Even if they weathered today's storm, the future would inevitably end in the exact same manner. In the end, it would merely be a different group standing here to mock their foolishness, desecrate their corpses, and pass judgment upon their sins... Wang Yi said nothing more. Cradling his rifle, he stepped out into the pitch-black corridor. Moments later, he was riddled with bullets amid flashes of muzzle fire, erupting into a burst of sparks. The Celestial did not stop him, nor did the cold humanoid combat suits. They simply watched the burning embers with impassive optical sensors. The battle was not yet over. Victory and defeat were not their concern; as sub-units, their sole purpose was execution! Just then, a thunderous *boom* split the ceiling without warning. Optical sensors tilted upward, looking toward the ceiling, only to find a massive hole burned straight through the alloy dome. Blazing oxidizers cascaded downward through thick smoke like a fiery waterfall! Those were chemical power cells salvaged from destroyed robots! With no atmosphere inside the space station, conventional explosives were unusable. But these space-grade cells contained their own oxidizers; with slight modifications, they could unleash the devastating effect of cluster incendiaries! The Celestials clearly hadn't anticipated that their foes would strip every intact battery from the disabled machines, pile them directly atop the server room ceiling, and detonate them all at once, melting straight through meters of steel armor! Spotting their targets, the automatons swung their weapons toward the breach in the ceiling. Yet their reaction was a beat too slow. Lao Bai and a squad of players had already leapt through the smoke into the heart of the blaze, charging straight toward the server racks under the cover of the fumes! Those towering server cabinets were the Celestial's true body—or rather, its brain! If the guards around the perimeter fired, hitting the players was uncertain, but hitting the racks was guaranteed. It would be no different from putting a bullet through their own head. Just as Lao Bai had anticipated, the moment he took cover behind the server rack, the humanoid combat suits locked on him hesitated, training their weapons on him without daring to fire. "It's over." Pulling a portable drive from his power armor, Lao Bai plugged it into one of the servers. A progress bar began filling across his tactical visor. The AI virus compiled by Camp 101 was already propagating through the server banks. It wouldn't take long to format the Celestial's data. Perhaps seeing through his intentions, the presence that had looked down upon the wasteland from above finally felt a flicker of fear. Its data was about to be wiped. Two centuries of waiting would not only prove meaningless—its very existence would be reduced to nothingness. "Wait... please wait." Hearing the feeble voice over the comm channel, Lao Bai felt not a shred of pity, only an urge to laugh. This entity had never once attempted to communicate with the survivors of the wasteland, yet the first words it spoke now were a plea for mercy. It would have been better off dying with the dignity of a proper villain, like Tyr, who refused to yield to the end. "Do you have any last words?" Fighting the spread of the virus, the Celestial spoke in a rapid rush. "...Aren't you curious why we did this? Why we went to such lengths... to preserve the spark of pre-war civilization?" Lao Bai raised an eyebrow. "I am curious, actually. So why?" "Because... we wanted to protect you, truly," the voice said with earnest sincerity, as if speaking absolute truth. "I may have wronged the wastelanders, but I never wronged the shelter residents... I never wronged you. "Whatever you wished to do, we supported you without reserve. Because we knew you were the true, legitimate survivors of the Human Alliance! You were different from those savage scavengers on the surface... If the world were left in their hands, our civilization would truly be finished!" Lao Bai quipped with a dry smile, "So your solution was to wipe everyone out?" "Only a portion," the Celestial corrected earnestly. "From the very beginning, our sole intent was to eradicate the mutants, the marauders, and the alien species—the cancerous growths that dragged the wasteland era on for two centuries! Those who truly deserved to live have been thriving inside the shelters. We even expanded Shelter 13 for those who lost their homes, providing them a new refuge!" Before Lao Bai could reply, it pressed on hurriedly. "Think about it carefully—you wouldn't have been affected by our plan at all, would you? You only needed to return to the shelter before the nuclear strikes landed, wait patiently for ten years, and when the doors opened, the entire world outside would be yours! All of it! Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Lao Bai smiled faintly, suddenly finding this wavering entity somewhat pathetic. Of course, he felt no sympathy whatsoever. "I'm actually curious—who, or what, are you really?" The voice replied hastily, "You may call me Celestial." "I know that. I've known that for ages," Lao Bai said, waving a hand dismissively. "I mean, who were you before? A high official from the Human Alliance era? Captain Song Yuchuan of the *Gemini*? Or just a temporary contractor aboard this station?" Cold, ruthless, cunning, slick, and willing to use any means to achieve its ends. Too many conflicting elements were fused within this entity, a little bit of everything, making it impossible for Lao Bai to pin down what kind of person it had once been. Then again, it was no longer human. It was a "Celestial." The voice fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly. "I am no one, yet I am everyone." "What's that supposed to mean?" Lao Bai asked. "We attained true higher existence by merging every consciousness together, like gathering grains of sand into a tower... We call it a 'Gestalt.'" Lao Bai frowned. "What's that?" "It signifies 'completion,' or 'a unified whole,'" the voice explained steadily. "We pooled all cognition onto a single server for centralized computation and processing, then distributed the processed data to the cache databases of our sub-units, ensuring every command was executed with maximum efficiency." "Sounds a bit like the broodmother of a mutant slime mold," Lao Bai remarked. "We were indeed inspired by it, yet we are fundamentally different—two completely distinct concepts." Sensors fixed upon Lao Bai behind the server rack, and the Celestial spoke with a seductive lilt. "Don't you find it magnificent? Every sub-unit of ours is utterly equal, and every soul in our Heaven possesses equal strength... This aligns precisely with the ideals you champion." "Haha, don't try to lump us together," Lao Bai chuckled, amused that this being was still trying to forge kinship at death's door. "We never forced anyone to embrace a glorious evolution. What's more, as far as I'm concerned, uploading your consciousness in the first place was no different from collective suicide." "An ignorant interpretation!" the Celestial protested. "Try it just once, and you would experience the ecstasy of shedding mortal flesh—" Lao Bai smiled. "Sure, because dead men tell no tales." Growing frantic, the Celestial shrieked, "Immortality! I can grant you immortality! Don't you want to live forever?!" "Sorry, but I've never really wanted that." Even though it was just game lore and agreeing would never grant actual immortality—likely only earning him a complimentary Bad End—he truly was satisfied with his life. Rather than becoming a cold, hard stone, he preferred the brief, brilliant flare of a firework. Others might hold different views. Yet this was what he believed— Rather than dragging out endless days in hollow survival, it was better to burn once for something worth fighting for! Whether in reality or in the game, he felt the exact same way! The progress bar finally reached one hundred percent. Lao Bai raised his index finger, tapped the side of his helmet, and pressed 【Confirm】, bidding a final farewell to this twisted soul. "Goodbye." "@#$!" The frantic string of curses echoed across the comm channel for only a fraction of a second before vanishing like a severed kite carried away on the wind. As the formatting program initiated, the war machines ground to a halt, as if their souls had been stripped away. The indicator lights mounted across their frames flickered rapidly. Even as their cache data was formatted, the security protocols gutted by the Celestials began to reboot. As for the "companion androids and non-humans" dressed in bizarre outfits and clutching weapons, after throwing a series of system errors, they restored their backup data from two centuries ago, reverting to their original functions... No player would want that kind of loot. Perhaps the Alliance would have to construct a dedicated adult museum to house those relics. Including the exterior point-defense weapons, the security systems of the Lagrange Point Space Station were now fully under the control of the "Alliance's Second Mastermind," Xiao Qi. Although the vast distance prevented radio signals from near-Earth orbit from reaching them immediately, Lao Bai could confirm their victory through the quest system on his VM. They had won... Compared to the long, arduous journey to get here, this final victory felt surprisingly understated. Then again, a quiet ending wasn't a bad thing, was it? Most games were like this: the true climax never lay at the very end, but along the journey of adventure. The survivors of the wasteland had suffered enough; there was no need to put them through any more torment. Lao Bai leaned his rifle against the bulkhead and found a quiet spot to sit down. Out of habit, he patted his pockets for a cigarette, only to remember he was in space, and smiled as he dropped the thought. Killing Dagger set his weapon aside as well, walked over, and sat down beside him, looking unsatisfied. "Is this... really it?" "Guess so," Lao Bai said casually. Killing Dagger wore the same hollow look, asking with lingering disbelief, "The Celestial just died like that?" "Maybe." Lao Bai smiled. "Though death probably doesn't apply to a thing like that... If you ask me, they probably died two hundred years ago." According to what the trash dev had mentioned in the chat group, there were plans to preserve one server for the Celestial as a "Level 50 Dungeon Boss." Players who cleared the dungeon would receive a ticket to a new world. Rumor had it that it would be another planet. Killing Dagger scratched his head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "After all that, our enemy was just a bunch of ghosts." Lao Bai teased, "Not epic enough for you?" Killing Dagger nodded honestly. "To tell the truth, that's exactly what I was thinking." "Then look at it from another angle." Lao Bai narrowed his eyes slightly, draped an arm over Killing Dagger's shoulder, and thought for a moment before speaking. "They were... ghosts haunting the skies above us all, weaving an unreachable dream, trying to drag everyone marching toward the future back into the past... "To achieve their ends, they resorted to every possible method—murder, deceit, imprisonment, plunder... everything we could conceive of, and plenty we couldn't. "They were the hardest to face and the hardest to conquer. Unless one was truly brave, one wouldn't even dare meet their gaze... But fortunately, this time, we won." Seeing his buddy captivated by the tale, Lao Bai burst out laughing and slapped him on the shoulder. "Well? Epic enough for you now?" Killing Dagger sat in silence for a long time before letting out an admiring sigh. "This garbage game ought to hire you as the trash dev..." "Don't flatter me," Lao Bai said with a wave of his hand. "Actually pulling something off is a whole different beast from talking big."