Awakened Versus Awakened!

"Boss, do you think they'll come through here?" The burly man with steel studs embedded in his nasal bone spoke excitedly, his index finger rubbing repeatedly along his tape-wrapped rifle stock. "They definitely will..." In the midst of an abandoned building overgrown with moss and climbing vines, a man in a leather jacket held binoculars, staring fixedly at the street ahead. His name was Black. He lived in the slums outside the Great Wall, a bounty hunter who fought for whoever paid him. He was also an Awakened. Though he lived in the slums, it wasn't because of poverty. For an Awakened, moving into the outer city was no difficult feat. No mercenary band would turn down an Awakened recruit, as long as their ability wasn't utterly useless. However, Black had no desire to live under someone else's thumb. In other people's eyes, the Great Wall was the dividing line between barbarism and civilization, but in his eyes, it was nothing more than a useless concrete cage—only cowards needed protection from others. True powerhouses relied solely on their own fists. Last night, he had taken on an assignment from a client at the Pirate Bay Tavern. The employer was unwilling to disclose their name, but was exceptionally generous, paying an advance deposit of a single 1,000-denomination chip, with a promise of two more once the job was done. Chips of such high denominations rarely circulated in the open market; normally, only inner-city nobles used them. Ordinary shops couldn't make change for them at all, requiring a trip to the bank to convert them into lower currency. When Black saw that deposit, his eyes practically turned into colorful chips. Without a second thought, he accepted the job. Generally speaking, the higher the pay, the more dangerous the job, but he wasn't particularly worried. For one, he had absolute confidence in his own strength; for another, the assignment's details truly didn't sound that difficult. A diplomatic delegation from the New Alliance was on its way to Boulder City. For the future of Boulder City, that mysterious employer wanted him to ambush and slaughter the envoys midway. He didn't need to kill everyone. All he had to do was launch a surprise assault, teach those bumpkins from the northern suburbs a harsh lesson so they learned some humbleness and manners, and send them scurrying back where they came from along with their so-called agreement of friendly cooperation. Black licked his lips in excitement. Yet as time dragged on, his gaze grew uneasy. "...Something isn't right." Why hadn't anyone entered the ambush zone yet? Had they been discovered ahead of time? Reasonably speaking, that should be impossible. Just then, he recalled a rumor circulating in the Pirate Bay Tavern. In the northern suburbs, there was a mysterious "Intuition-type" Awakened; a mercenary group had once tripped up badly at their hands. Black's expression gradually turned solemn. If the rumor was true, the enemy might have already detected them. "Everyone, get ready for combat." With a low growl, he signaled the brothers beside him. He picked up an RPG launcher tube off the ground and slotted a high-explosive grenade into it. He had bought this thing from a weapons shop. While its explosive and armor-piercing capabilities weren't on par with the rocket launchers produced by Boulder Military Industries, it was still a cut above the compact Iron Fist. Most importantly, it was cheap and reloadable. Even if its mid-range accuracy left something to be desired, not everyone needed pinpoint precision. Just like how not everyone had to face evolved organisms. The brothers around him made their preparations as well, chambering rounds into submachine guns and assault rifles. Inside the building, the heavy machine gunner racked his bolt with a sharp clack. Murderous intent hung thick over the silent street. Though the slaughter hadn't begun, the scent of blood already seemed to hang in the air. Black waited quietly, regulating his breathing. Yet right then, an explosion blasted from a window two hundred meters away. *Boom—!* He snapped his head toward the noise and saw a figure flung straight out the window, trailing a drawn-out scream before smashing into a bloody pulp on the slanted, broken concrete bridge below. That was where their heavy machine-gun nest was! The man thrown out had been his partner! Veins instantly shot through Black's eyes, pupils widening in anger and terror. "Damn it! Luther!!" How had he been found?! There was no time to ponder that now. Without hesitation, he raised the launcher tube and pulled the trigger toward the window. With a sharp whoosh, a trail of white exhaust streaked toward the window diagonally opposite. A shockwave of flame and debris billowed from the pitch-black ruin, scorching even the moss on the wall. At the same time, Black roared at the top of his lungs, his eyes bloodshot. "Tear them to pieces!" *** Meanwhile, in the window that had just absorbed an RPG, an Agility-type player shook his head and scrambled up from the floor. His player ID was [Killing Dagger], and he had entered the game in Alpha 0.5. Because the full name didn't roll off the tongue easily, his close buddies simply called him Shabi. As a Level 15 Agility-type player, his talent converted half his reflexes into environmental perception. Although in the current version Perception-types were showing signs of inheriting the Intelligence-type's role as the runt of the litter, for stealth-build players, this talent was practically tailor-made! The composite ballistic plates of his Light Cavalry exoskeleton had absorbed most of the shrapnel, but the blast's shockwave had still rattled his internal organs so hard they felt displaced. Yet since he couldn't feel pain, what pained him far more was his gear and the loot that had slipped through his fingers. "Damn it—my original armor!" And that heavy machine gun! He'd been right on the verge of capturing it, only for a rocket to blow it straight to hell. This had to be a scripted death! Targeted by the dev dog! As he cursed under his breath, Lao Bai's voice came over the comms channel. "...What's the situation on your end?" "I'm fine... The enemy has heavy firepower." "Need backup?" "Nah, no need," Shabi chuckled. "Leave it to us!" The scout fireteam had three members in total. Besides him, there were [Kidney Fighter] and [All Good Names Taken by Dogs]. One was Strength-type, the other Perception-type, Levels 15 and 14 respectively. Like him, both were veteran players who had joined back in Alpha 0.5. Before joining the Burning Corps, the three of them had always grouped up to grind maps and do quests together. Reaching up to tap the side of his helmet twice, Shabi relocated toward a half-collapsed stairwell while checking in with his teammates. "Shen, Dog Bastard, what's going on on your side?" A reply soon sounded in his ear: "...Outer defenses cleared. We're pushing upstairs. What about you? Sounded like something blew up just now." "Took a rocket to the face, nothing serious... Moving to support position now, ETA one minute." "Copy that. Stay safe." "Make it quick!" Gunfire erupted through the ruins, muzzle flashes strobing against the walls. Having deployed small shoulder-mounted drones, the two players in exoskeletons held rifles at the ready, advancing with steady bursts of fire as they deftly maneuvered across the shattered concrete rubble. The Light Cavalry exoskeleton offered unmatched mobility in urban terrain, especially amid complex rubble where ordinary people couldn't reach even if they jumped; an operator in a light exoskeleton could scale it with ease. Down below, agonizing screams from Black's subordinates rose continuously. Hearing the approaching gunfire, Black's eyes filled with fear and fury. In the end, all his emotions condensed into a savage roar. The muscles all over his body bulged outward like coiling pythons, eyes bloodshot and gleaming with a chilling crimson light. "I'll take you bastards with me!!" Plunging a steel syringe into his thigh, Black bellowed and surged out from behind cover. Grabbing a rust-crusted steel plate, he charged straight toward the flashing muzzle flare at the end of the corridor. Every cell in his body expanded to its limit. He was like a rampaging tank; as he charged forward in massive strides, the floor tiles of the entire corridor groaned underfoot. Bullets slammed into the steel plate, leaving only shallow dents—the 7mm full-power rounds couldn't even punch through! At such close range, there was no time to use a rocket launcher, nor would a scout fireteam carry such a thing. "Holy shit! Is this guy insane?!" Dog Bastard looked surprised, though having played the game for so long, he had seen plenty. Before he could even exchange a glance, Kidney Fighter beside him lowered his assault rifle, drew his entrenching shovel, and let out a low roar. "Berserk!" With his overall strength surging, instead of retreating, he charged right at the musclebound brute. A flicker of surprise crossed Black's flesh-heaped face, quickly morphing into an arrogant sneer. "Wanna die? I'll grant your wish!!" Black roared, slamming forward behind his steel plate. Exoskeletons? Drones? Such pricy toys weren't worth mentioning before pure strength! His muscles were the ultimate engine! *Thud—!* Metal collided against metal with a deafening crash. Yet the man before him wasn't sent flying as he had expected. The steel plate slung in Black's grip felt as if it had struck an unyielding wall; it shuddered slightly, then held dead fast. A look of astonishment crossed Black's face, instantly overtaken by fury. He yanked the steel plate aside, drew the morningstar concealed behind it, and brought it crashing down toward the exoskeleton's head. Another clanging ring echoed through the air. The man held an iron shovel that clashed absurdly with his high-tech gear, yet he parried the blow head-on! Shock and dread seized Black's heart, especially as a numbing tremor radiated up the webbing of his thumb. "Haha! Bring it on!" The man shouted words Black couldn't understand, sweeping his entrenching shovel in a vicious arc toward Black's skull. Black frantically raised his morningstar to parry. Two metallic clashes erupted in rapid succession, forcing Black back two full steps. As though tireless, the man swung the entrenching shovel like a windmill. Even when the steel blade warped out of shape from the impacts, it kept driving relentlessly toward his face. Black was terrified now; raw fear surfaced on his face. No matter how obtuse he might be, he realized in that instant that this man was an Awakened! And his strength was every bit Black's match! Amplified by the exoskeleton, the joint drive of biological muscle and electric motors unleashed strikes like a relentless storm. Far from tiring, the man grew more ferocious the longer he fought. His physical stamina pushed to the brink, Black could no longer hold his ground. Pulling back a few steps, he dropped heavily to his knees with a thud and raised both arms in surrender. "I give up! I surrender!" The few surviving lackeys behind him froze on the spot, looking at each other in disbelief. Seeing their boss surrender, they ultimately set their weapons down as well. Staring at the dungeon boss kneeling before him, the player named Kidney Fighter blinked, his raised entrenching shovel freezing in midair. He was just getting into the groove. How could he surrender already? Get back up and keep fighting! Black trembled on his knees, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The look in the man's eyes triggered an instinctual dread within him. Yet he truly had nothing left in him to fight. Just then, a panting voice came through the comms of the two players. "Damn it, I finally made it... Reached support position. Which floor are you guys on? Why did the shooting stop? Everyone okay?" "...It's over. The boss surrendered," Dog Bastard said with a strange expression. "Head back down." Shabi: "%¥#@!" *** On a nearby skyscraper rooftop, a woman covered head to toe in alloy stood in silence. A black faceplate and helmet concealed her entire head; only her silhouette gave away her gender. At first glance, she seemed to be wearing an exoskeleton, but closer inspection revealed that the helmet and faceplate were non-detachable components, growing seamlessly from her neck. She had no name, only the designation X-16 stenciled on her left chest and embedded in the processor within her thoracic cavity. A dainty electronic sparrow landed on her shoulder, its lively black eyes flashing with a string of dark green code. X-16 nodded wordlessly. Her pitch-black faceplate leveled forward, and she spoke in a cold, synthesized voice. "...The bait has been captured." "Should Plan B be initiated?" A voice answered over the comms channel. "No need. Come back." X-16 nodded. "Understood." Shortly after her words fell, the figure on the rooftop departed without a sound. As if she had never been there at all... *** Meanwhile, Black and his five dejected subordinates, hands clasped behind their heads, were escorted out of the riddled abandoned building by three players in exoskeletons. When he saw the seven soldiers standing beside the delegation, despair washed over Black's face. Until a few seconds ago, he had naively believed those three were the New Alliance delegation's strongest combatants. Yet the seven exoskeleton-clad warriors standing before him possessed an aura that yielded nothing to those three. The man standing at the very front seemed especially unfathomable! Only now did he realize what a foolish mistake it had been to accept this mission. The captured weapons were piled together. Looking at the RPG launcher tube on the ground, Lao Bai wore a trace of surprise. "A rocket launcher? Where did you get this?" He asked in the Human Alliance language. Black answered cautiously. "...They sell them on the slum black market." The weapons shops inside Boulder City sold them too, though they took up very little shelf space—only a tiny display tube. Explosives exceeding a 50-gram equivalent were strictly barred from entering the Great Wall; after payment, buyers had to pick up their goods at the trading post outside the wall. That seemed to be standard practice across survivor settlements in the wasteland. Luka walked over, looked down at Black squatting on the ground with his hands behind his head, and asked in a heavy voice, "Who sent you?" Seeing a story trigger, the surrounding players gathered around with keen interest. "I don't know..." Black stammered in panic. Noticing the hostile glares from the crowd, he hurriedly clarified, "I swear I don't know! I-I was just hired for the job! The broker who contacted me is a regular at the Pirate Bay Tavern. His name is Bite... You can ask the bartenders there, they all know him." "Hired for the job?" Luka frowned, fixing him with a stare. "What did they tell you to do? How much did they pay you?" "My contact only told me to bring my men and ambush you here, and gave me... a 1,000-chip deposit," Black pleaded with a servile, fawning look. "I'm willing to offer all my wealth to you, as long as you spare my life!" Paying no heed to the bounty hunter's begging, Old Luka looked grave. Though he had anticipated that this journey wouldn't be peaceful, he had intentionally scheduled the signing ceremony very soon to avoid giving ill-intentioned parties time to organize. Yet they had still been targeted. Lao Bai cast an inquiring glance at Luka. "What should we do with these prisoners?" Luka pondered for a moment, then said, "Leave them for the Administrator to deal with." With that, he brought up his VM, marked coordinates on the map, and turned back to Lao Bai. "The Guards Corps will dispatch people to collect the prisoners. Please arrange for two of your men to wait here a while." Lao Bai nodded and looked at the two Agility-type players beside him. "The NPCs handling the prisoners are on their way. You two hold the fort here and catch up once the handover is done." Both nodded in unison. "Okey-dokey!" "No problem!" *** Leaving the prisoners and spoils behind with two guards, the group resumed their march. Shrinking back over a minor setback would play right into the enemy's hands. Old Luka steeled his resolve: no matter what happened, he had to bring that agreement back. At the same time, inside an industrial-style skyscraper in Boulder City's outer city. A man in a formal suit sat in his office, quietly studying a holographic projection cast onto his desktop. Though called an office, there was nothing minimal or modest about it. The entire room was designed strictly to the standards of an inner-city luxury presidential suite. From the desk before him to the bed in the adjoining room, every single piece of furniture was an imported luxury item from Ideal City. His name was Ibers, Chairman of Boulder Military Industries. As the underground emperor of Boulder City's outer city, he was the only person with the wealth to enjoy all of this. And he was the only one worthy of enjoying it. Standing beside him, an aging secretary said softly, "...Their strength is remarkable." Ibers nodded, his face impassive. "Yes. They seem to possess a technique capable of inducing Awakening." "And the Awakened manifest formidable strength." Inducing Awakening wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible either. Whenever a species was pushed to the brink of survival, one or two unreasonably powerful individuals would inevitably emerge. Combined with the genetic engineering achievements of the Human Alliance era, this peculiar phenomenon was amplified exponentially, resulting in what was known as "Awakening"—that was the prevailing consensus. Even without technological intervention, some survivor settlements could naturally give birth to Awakened individuals. With technical methods, it was entirely feasible to actively induce individuals with latent potential to Awaken. Though it carried a range of risks, including reproductive isolation. Ibers had heard of such technologies; in fact, he knew of more than a dozen technical routes to induce Awakening. Boulder Military Industries had mastered two of them; mastering another wouldn't mean much. They regularly produced batches of cloned infants, screening out the few with Awakening potential for intensive training while dumping the rest in slum orphanages or disposing of them. While the screening was never 100 percent accurate, as long as the overall yield stayed above 80 percent, it was sufficient for their needs. To Boulder Military Industries, Awakened individuals were merely "cost-effective, low-yield" pieces of equipment. Their military capability relied on an entire industrial system, not just one or two pieces of gear. However... What made Ibers wary was that the New Alliance possessed far too many of these cost-effective assets. The secretary beside him was clearly thinking along the same lines. "...If even their ordinary Awakened soldiers possess such combat capability, we might have to mobilize the militia corps to deal with them." According to their intelligence, the New Alliance possessed an Awakened corps numbering between 1,000 and 3,000, which was the backbone of their confidence in announcing the northern expedition. Though their high-tech equipment was limited, quantity itself was a terrifying force. "...Furthermore, these people always give me an uncanny feeling." Ibers asked casually, "In what sense?" "In every sense," the secretary paused, continuing with measured logic. "They don't behave like normal people, but nor do they act like clones. They feel more like a unique existence caught somewhere between the two." "I suggest increasing our engagement with them—ideally to figure out what their deal really is." Bizarre occurrences on the wasteland were as common as ox hair, but this was happening right on their doorstep. Ibers pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded. "You're right. This does warrant investigation." The old secretary said respectfully, "Shall I arrange a meeting with the Director of the City Hall?" "No need. I spoke with him on the phone last night. Matters are progressing in the direction we desire." The old secretary added, "Be that as it may... Mr. Dulong appears to have run into some trouble." Ibers raised an eyebrow. "What kind of trouble?" "Workers have surrounded the City Hall. They're dissatisfied with the outcome of Dulong's negotiations with the New Alliance and are demanding a renegotiation." Ibers paused, then chuckled. "Fascinating." *** A long, long time ago, Boulder City was not a city, nor could it even be considered a survivor settlement—it was merely a single skyscraper. Like other survivors of the apocalypse, the people living there struggled bitterly to survive. Yet just then, a group of people arrived and told the inhabitants of the skyscraper: "We shall build high walls for you, and bestow upon you blades, seeds, and torches." "Yet the unreliable Alliance is crumbling, and our lives are like candles flickering in the wind." "For the future of us all, guard this final spark." "Until the very end—" Later, with the passage of time, more and more people gathered around that "spark." Many hands made light work, and the fire blazed ever brighter. Though it didn't hold a candle to the Era of Prosperity, it still offered a shred of warmth. Gradually, the original skyscraper and surrounding blocks became the inner city, while the buffer zone between the inner city and the Great Wall expanded into the outer city. Today, even the massive outer city could not accommodate everyone. Those who couldn't enter the Great Wall built shacks outside or spread into surrounding areas, forming villages like Bet Street. Naturally, those down on their luck might be captured by slave traders and sold off to places like Brown Farm. "...Or simply end up as rations for mutants, marauders, and variants." Having listened to Xia Yan recount this "history," Chu Guang mused aloud, "Those people... were they called the Post-War Reconstruction Committee?" He had reviewed Dr. Principle's recordings repeatedly. While Boulder City was never mentioned, the mysterious Post-War Reconstruction Committee was brought up numerous times. Two centuries ago, major factions like the Enterprise, the Legion, and the Academy hadn't yet come into being, and the Church of the Torch had only popped up ten or twenty years ago. To build such a magnificent Great Wall amid the ruins, only one possibility seemed plausible. "I wouldn't know. I heard there are other versions, but that's the only story I know..." Sitting on the reading room sofa, Xia Yan cradled a mug of hot milk laced with cocoa, gently blowing on it between small sips. She had no idea why Chu Guang had suddenly developed an interest in two-hundred-year-old tales, but she happened to have heard a bit. For the sake of the chocolate, keeping him company in conversation was fine by her. Chu Guang nodded thoughtfully, striking a few keys on his keyboard. Xia Yan watched curiously as Chu Guang focused intently on the monitor, casually resting her slightly bent bionic leg over her shapely natural one. "Are you writing a diary?" "A diary?" Chu Guang paused, then laughed. "What makes you say that?" Xia Yan blinked. "Because you seem to write every single day." Pausing his hands to reflect for a moment, Chu Guang said, "...Well, rather than a diary, you could say I'm weaving dreams." Xia Yan rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're speaking in riddles again." Chu Guang smiled faintly without answering. Every word he spoke was the truth; he simply rarely finished the full sentence. In that regard, politics and salesmanship were remarkably alike. The only difference was what was being sold. Having fleshed out the lore in the setting bible, Chu Guang logged onto the official forum to take a look. It wasn't log-off time yet, so the players were still in-game, yet the forum's lively buzz hadn't diminished in the slightest. Two hours earlier, the silver coin trading platform had reopened. The exchange price had already ridden over a dozen roller-coasters, leaving onlookers declaring it utterly absurd. "Holy crap! It broke a hundred!" "Awesome!" "How did it plummet to single digits?!" "Big bosses, show some spine! Hold the line, don't sell, pump silver coins to the moon!" "Damn it! Who the hell is dumping?!" Since discussing such topics was banned in the General Discussion board, threads of this sort flooded the Trading section. While the retail suckers fixated on prices, Chu Guang checked the background logs for large order data. Even without tapping into Xiao Qi's computing power, he could roughly deduce from capital flows that major real-world factions were intentionally accumulating the air-coins he issued. They had even hired professional market operators. "...Looks like this battery carries quite a punch." A smile touched Chu Guang's lips. If they chose to mistake him for an extraterrestrial civilization and view *Wasteland OL* as an allegory rich with enlightenment, he was content to let them keep misunderstanding. It wasn't a bad thing. Providing compensation to those who labored was only natural and right. Though he couldn't visit that world himself, he still hoped his little players could live a slightly better life. Just then, Xiao Qi's voice drifted over. "Master." Already practically suffering from PTSD from his AI assistant's habit of only reporting bad news, Chu Guang turned tensely toward the doll sitting at the corner of his desk. "What is it?" Under his intense gaze, Xiao Qi wore an embarrassed expression and a shy smile. However, that didn't turn bad news into good news. "You only have two closed-beta slots left." Chu Guang froze. "Only two left? Didn't I tell you to throttle distribution when slots started running low?" Xiao Qi said aggrievedly, "I did what you asked... Last week, the daily allocation was already reduced to ten, and this week I cut it down further, but that's all there was." Though it wanted to help Chu Guang recruit more players, the "recruitment cap" was an immovable wall; its hands were tied. Seeing Chu Guang remain silent, Xiao Qi asked timidly, "Should I change it to one per day?" Or perhaps issue one gold coin per day, where collecting ten earned a discount coupon for a virtual dive helmet. Xia Yan tilted her head, unable to make head or tail of what Chu Guang and that desk ornament were talking about. "No need for that. Just hand out the last two." Glancing at the tasks in his work log, Chu Guang pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "...Looks like opening contact with Shelter 101 needs to be put on the agenda as soon as possible." To keep that Pai girl happy, he had deliberately dispatched the well-behaved, sensible, and adorable Xiao Yu to act as her "exclusive customer support." He wondered how things were going over there...