At the entrance to the Boulder City industrial zone stood a bulletin board covered in names and serial numbers.
A dense sea of people pressed before the board.
Exultant cheers erupted from time to time. Anyone who spotted their own name broke into flushed, ecstatic excitement, looking like they had just hit the lottery. The onlookers cast envious glances their way, cursing themselves for answering the mobilization call too late or failing to put in enough sweat back then.
Excluding the scavengers outside the city, Boulder City possessed virtually no primary sector—only secondary and tertiary industries. Even after labor laws were strictly enforced and child laborers under sixteen were packed off to full-time boarding schools with meals provided, over a hundred thousand registered workers remained on the books.
The 1,800 free apartments were like a single cup of water poured over parched earth, yet they gave countless people a glimpse of hope for a better life.
Lovett had promised that once none of the settlement's homes let in drafty wind and municipal finances improved, they would consider building better, affordable housing for everyone.
Though he harbored little hope, Kent could not resist wandering over to the board. Yet that casual, pessimistic glance caused his eyes to pop wide open in shock.
"...My name is on here?"
Thinking his vision was playing tricks on him, Kent vigorously scrubbed his face with his dust-caked sleeve.
Confirming once more that both name and number matched, he didn't even have time to celebrate. Terrified that someone might snatch his spot, he squeezed frantically through the crowd to the registration desk to complete the paperwork.
Staring at the residency permit cradled in his hands, Kent trembled with excitement. He had never imagined that one day he would live in an actual multi-story building.
Yet unease lingered in his heart. Looking at the clerk, he could not resist asking, "This housing... how was it distributed?"
This was a frequent question, and the fellow worker behind the wooden desk paid it no mind, rattling off the four priorities with practiced ease: "First priority goes to those whose homes have already been demolished, second to workers who participated in construction, third to households within demolition zones, and fourth to families of five or more."
Kent did the math in his head. As a bachelor, he certainly didn't meet the last criterion. Nor did he fit the first. But he satisfied both the second and third.
Not only had he actively joined the construction, throwing his full weight into the work without daring to slack off, but his diligence had even earned him a commendation.
And his drafty shack clearly fell within the renovation zone. He didn't know what quirk possessed the new administration—they seemed unable to stomach drafty shacks, even though he had carefully smeared mud over all the cracks.
Back then, he had sulked for days over the matter, grumbling that at least the noble lords had never tried to snatch his shack. Now, however, the complaints withered in his throat.
It turned out the newly arrived masters didn't just tear things down and leave people hanging.
Yet he found it almost impossible to believe that such a windfall could drop from the sky. Gnawed by the nagging fear that it would be snatched away, he couldn't help asking, "This place... it's really free to live in? No charge at all?"
The clerk smiled. "No charge! As long as you don't own any other property in the Alliance, you can live there indefinitely. If it ever becomes hazardous, we'll swap you into a new one. Oh, and by the way, every household will eventually have running water and electricity. For now, it's on a free monthly quota. Unused amounts roll over. Once winter passes and municipal management takes over, you'll have to pay a little for utilities if you exceed your quota."
Running water and electricity?
Kent blinked blankly, unable to fathom the concept. But hearing that they would charge a bit of money once winter passed actually set his mind at ease.
See? He was right all along. The masters were still around; they just weren't named Lord Fang Ming anymore, but rather a carpenter named Lovett.
And since Lovett was appointed by the Administrator, the true master of Boulder City must be the Administrator.
Still, that wasn't bad at all.
Finding his worldview vindicated, Kent felt no anger—in fact, he felt rather pleased.
This truly wasn't a bad thing.
Legally speaking, those who entered the vaults in the old days had certainly been nobles of the Human Alliance, making the vaults the legitimate successors to the Alliance.
Going back even further, Boulder City had originally been planned by the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, which meant the city's rightful authority also lay in the north.
The northern outskirts... the northern outskirts...
Kent's eyes lit up, though a blush crept onto his cheeks.
Damn that House! Leading everyone to sneer "northern hicks" and "blue gophers" with every breath—he had nearly ruined everything!
That great Administrator and his warriors were plainly humanity's saviors!
He had simply been misled!
"Long live the Administrator!"
Having finally justified everything to himself, Kent was overwhelmed with excitement. He let out a shout in the street, though he didn't dare yell too loudly, and his voice was swallowed up by the bustling crowd without anyone noticing...
Feeling a bit embarrassed, he flushed red and shouted "Long live the Alliance!" to demonstrate his loyalty. This time, people heard him and chuckled, congratulating him on getting a new home.
Grinning from ear to ear, Kent nodded in thanks and clasped his hands in return greetings, rejoicing that he now belonged to this new collective before hurrying away.
...
Wasteland Online Official Website.
[Server Announcement:]
[The 2nd Wasteland Online New Year Celebration Event!]
[Introduction:
Juicy, plump, and easy to preserve, split-claw crab cakes saw us through the bitter winter of Wasteland Era 212. Without those claw-waving cuties, the Alliance would never have flourished!
Over the past year, we ate the split-claw crabs of Ling Lake down to endangered status. What miraculous mutant species will we drive toward extinction next year?
The mystery will be revealed tonight!
Just like last year, the Administrator has prepared a mystery gift for every participating resident. Winners will unlock the exclusive "Wasteland Gourmet" achievement and have their names permanently inscribed alongside their recipes in the official Hall of Fame!
The Alliance Administrator reminds everyone once again: though this has been a bountiful year, many still go hungry. Absolutely no food waste!
Also, do not shove just anything into your mouth—beware of food poisoning!
]
[Event Duration: December 28, Wasteland Era 212 to January 1, Wasteland Era 213]
[Location: All settlements within Alliance territory (including Bister Town)]
[Requirements: Use locally sourced ingredients to develop recipes and craft dishes edible even by ordinary humans (Constitution: 5)!]
[Judging Criteria: Each settlement will award two prizes: Player's Choice Gourmet and Wastelanders' Choice Gourmet. As the Alliance's fifth settlement, Boulder City will feature an additional special award: Administrator's Choice Gourmet (unrestricted ingredients; criteria focus: generous portions, cheap, delicious, nutritious, and healthy)!]
[Boulder City Designated Poison Tester: Yaya]
New Year events were an established tradition in practically every MMORPG, and Wasteland Online was naturally no exception. That said, the dev's shameless laziness was indisputable.
This year's event was almost identical to last year's, still centered around food. It seemed a certain planner was dead set on stress-testing the server's ecological balance.
Ever since split-claw crab cakes were designated Dawn City's signature delicacy by the Administrator, split-claw crabs along the entire northern shore of Ling Lake had been eaten into local extinction.
To hunt split-claw crabs now, one had to search collapsed, waterlogged sections of the ruins, or head north to Xizhou Lake to find them in any real numbers.
Failing that, the only option was heading south.
It was worth noting that in search of a steady food supply, some wastelanders had even taken up aquaculture along the banks of Ling Lake, researching how to breed edible split-claw crabs that were less aggressive, spawned more frequently, and tasted even better.
This was an outcome Chu Guang had never anticipated.
Returning to the event itself.
Unlike last year, food was no longer in short supply after opening the market with Luoxia Province. The event's purpose had shifted from solving a survival crisis to enriching the lives of Alliance residents.
Boulder City sat on the outer edge of the Third Ring Road, surrounded by rolling expanses of ruined skyscrapers, with underground tunnels crisscrossing beneath. The mutants active in this area were not limited to slime mold fruiting bodies; the variety was quite diverse. For seasoned hunters, locating hibernating prey would not be overly difficult.
Chu Guang intended to carry on this tradition, hosting a similar server-wide event at the end of each year to weave "mutant hunting" into Alliance culture.
Compared to celebrating the Great Horned Deer God's birthday, holidays created by people themselves were far more meaningful.
Once the announcement went up, it sparked lively discussion among active and armchair players alike. To his surprise, however, the main focus of their banter wasn't the event itself, but something else entirely.
Jieyan: "Hahaha! Designated poison tester, that's wild!"
Yaya: "I'm gonna explode from overeating! QAQ"
Makabazi: "Hahahaha! Fat Ya confirmed!"
Yaya: "Piss off! Where am I fat?! Go die!!! (╯°Д°)╯︵┻━┻"
Tengteng: "Damn this shameless flirt... Mr. Dev, hurry and nerf her, she's insufferable! T.T"
Yaya: "???"
Tail: "Waaaah, Sisi! I miss home! (；д；)"
Sisi: "Don't cry, Ah Wei. In a bit I'll have Rou Rou catch you a fish to make soup."
Meat Mountain Steamed Bun: "We're in the ocean, for cryin' out loud!!!"
Tail: "Oh! Sisi reeled in a giant tentacle monster last time!"
Sisi: "Uh... that's something I'd rather not remember. (facepalm)"
Sesame Paste: "Ahaha... *headpats*."
In Debt God: "Tentacle monster?! Elaborate, please. (funny)"
Construction Site Boy and Bricks: "What are you planning? Are humans no longer enough for you?"
In Debt God: "Get lost! Am I that kind of guy?! (angry)"
Drum Hair Washing Machine: "Bro's tastes are pretty freaky. (funny)"
Elven King Fugui: "Even Old Na would call you a madman. (funny)"
Elaina: "I'm just curious what it tastes like. Why wouldn't Brother Luo Yu be calling him a madman instead? (funny)"
Luo Yu: "???"
Fang Chang: "This game is just too realistic. (funny)"
...
Following the announcement on the official website, a flood of players surged from Dawn City into Boulder City, and the plaza before the main gate instantly buzzed with excitement.
It was bustling like an actual festival.
"Party up to farm monsters! DM fast if interested!"
"Found a split-claw crab nest at the South Suburbs Sewage Plant! Anyone want to go steal crab eggs together?! Just need one more bait runner."
"Damn it, anyone know what kind of meat this is? Looted it from a marauder den... Any merchant bros need jerky?"
"Hahaha! Throw it away, bro, you really don't want to know what that is."
"Fuck! That homeless cutie I sponsored yesterday stole my wallet! I'm never believing in love again!"
"Relax, at least she left your VM."
"Wait... are you sure it was stolen?"
"...?"
Although players could participate in the New Year's Eve event at any settlement, Boulder City—newly brought into the players' sphere of influence—offered an extra award.
Unless tied down by urgent work, most life-skill players preferred heading to Boulder City to join the fun.
Moreover, the special award was judged personally by the Administrator, making it a golden opportunity to farm favorability with the faction BOSS!
Players determined to claim the "Wasteland Gourmet" title naturally had no intention of missing out.
"These noobs are so weak. Needing a party just to farm split-claw crabs? Pathetic!"
In a corner of the bazaar.
Watching the chattering Beta rookies, Killing Dagger planted both hands on the ground, grinning like a baboon.
He hadn't assumed this posture to show off, but rather to conserve stamina.
Just a few days ago, he had undergone cybernetic modification at Boulder Military Industry. From his spine to his shoulders, his upper torso had been rebuilt into a T-shaped alloy structure.
Even more exaggerated were his two fists: solid lumps of iron that, when pressed together, could double as an excavator bucket.
Speaking of these fists, Killing Dagger still felt baffled.
He distinctly remembered asking for fists the size of clay pots, like Vi from Piltover, but who knew what that NPC named Ibers had been thinking—he'd gone and installed fists the size of iron woks.
Well, whatever.
They were already attached.
Right now, he felt endless power coursing through his hands. One slap could clobber a Strength-type to death, and the backdraft alone could blow an Intelligence-type away!
Assuming, of course, the target stood completely still.
All Good Names Taken by Dogs stared blankly at him before letting out a strangled cry.
"Holy shit?! Where did you get five hundred thousand silver coins?!"
If he remembered correctly, the quoted price had been five hundred thousand.
At the time, he'd mocked the guy for posturing, never expecting this lunatic would actually go through with it!
Seeing his pal's flabbergasted expression, Killing Dagger smiled sheepishly and came clean.
"It wasn't that expensive... I bargained with the NPC and had him remove the 'Pigeon' missile launcher on the fists, which dropped the price to fifty thousand silver coins."
In exchange, he had to submit regular usage data to Boulder Military Industry to help them refine their products.
Not that he cared.
What was privacy anyway? They were welcome to it. After being modified into this monstrosity, he harbored no illusions about having a sex life in the game anyway.
Good Dog stared in dumbfounded silence, at a total loss for words. Only after a long pause did he manage to squeeze out, "...Didn't you pick the Agility-type specifically to play a stealth build?"
"See, that's where you don't get it," Killing Dagger said, smugly curling his lips. He started to pat Good Dog's shoulder, then thought better of it and held back. "If you kill everyone, nobody knows you were there. That's stealth too... Besides, don't we already have a real stealth build in our squad? Look, Old Kidney went and got modded too."
He jerked his chin. Utterly bewildered, Good Dog looked in the direction he indicated and saw Kidney Fighter, clad in an alloy chestplate, sauntering over with a cheeky grin.
"Hahaha! Dog bro, you're here too! Let me tell you, Boulder Military Industry's cybernetic modifications are fucking insane!"
"...What did you modify?" Looking at his alloy chestplate and open-front coat, Good Dog felt an ominous premonition.
Kidney Fighter smirked. "Heheh... watch this."
With that, he grabbed his coat and hurled it into the air like a flasher, exposing the entire chestplate and two bare arms.
Only then did Good Dog realize the guy wasn't wearing an alloy breastplate—it was welded directly onto his body.
"Are you insane?" Good Dog stared at him, dumbstruck. "What the hell is the point of..."
Before he could finish, the jet-black breastplate suddenly turned translucent, like ink diluted by water, and then vanished entirely.
Good Dog's eyes bulged like lightbulbs, practically popping from their sockets.
"Holy shit?! Optical camouflage?!"
"Bingo!"
Now reduced to floating limbs and a head, Kidney Fighter chuckled, patting his hovering skull as he continued, "Too bad I didn't have enough cash, otherwise I could've gotten the full set. But just cloaking my torso works well enough—at least it cuts my target profile way down."
Like Dagger bro's gear, his had been quoted at fifty thousand silver coins, roughly half the cost of a Heavy Cavalry exoskeleton. Ordinarily, optical camouflage wouldn't come so cheap, but because it used recycled scrap components, he got a discount.
If not for the rare bargain, a Strength-type like him would never have grafted such a thing onto himself. In the end, he just couldn't resist a deal.
Good Dog couldn't help giving him a thumbs-up.
"You're a fucking genius!"
Whether it worked for stealth was debatable.
In the dead of night, though, it would scare people half to death.
He took a closer look and realized the optical camouflage wasn't without weaknesses.
Any moderate vibration produced a distinct outline; only when standing dead still did it approach near-total invisibility.
Seeing his buddy completely drained of comebacks, Killing Dagger chuckled and urged, "Bro, you should go get one too. It's super handy."
Good Dog: "Handy my ass!"
"Eeeek—!"
As they spoke, a shriek suddenly rang out nearby.
A young girl who had just emerged from the bazaar carrying a basket collapsed to the ground in terror.
Her face was chalk-white as she stared at Kidney Fighter—now just a floating head and limbs. Ignoring the knee-deep snow, she scrambled backward on hands and knees, shivering violently.
"M-Monster..."
Even on a wasteland full of bizarre sights, a disembodied head floating in midair was hardly common—especially one grinning at her.
"Don't be afraid, miss, this is just... a rather unique prosthetic."
Kidney Fighter strained to muster a friendly smile, intending to explain in broken Human Alliance language. But before he had even taken half a step forward, the girl fainted dead away from sheer terror.
Good Dog sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Just wait to get kicked, you idiot."
Killing Dagger whistled innocently, using both hands on the ground to swivel his body around and face the other direction, pretending he didn't know him.
Looking at his all-too-true brothers, Kidney Fighter didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Holy shit! You guys—"
Before he could finish, Alliance guards were already rushing over, while players egged them on with rowdy shouts:
"Holy shit, awesome bro! How'd you make your belly disappear?"
"What new bug is this?!"
"Call Psycho Squad! We got a cyberpsycho here!"
"Cyberpsycho?! Where?!"
"Wait, don't turn it off yet! Let me take a picture!"
...
High atop the Great Wall, the howling north wind whipped up powdery flakes of snow.
Gazing down from the dizzying height at the bazaar before the gate, the teeming crowds, and those endlessly rowdy customers, Ibers wore a delighted smile.
"Your residents are truly geniuses."
Standing beside him, Chu Guang glanced at him. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"Can 'genius' even be used as an insult?" Ibers rubbed the back of his head, then abruptly shifted topics. "By the way, Project X-17 has been approved. When do you plan on going on a honeymoon with X-16?"
"Not interested."
"Not interested? Could it be... that little girl from the Melvin family? Tsk, tsk, tsk, you must be out of your mind. That organic would definitely break, though—"
Listening to the old lunatic's outrageous babble, Chu Guang couldn't resist planting a kick squarely on his rear, even if seniority made it somewhat improper.
Standing nearby, X-16 watched in silence as Ibers rolled across the ground a few times before scrambling up, showing zero intention of helping him.
In truth, she couldn't have helped even if she wanted to.
She had no doubt that she and Ibers combined were no match for that human. He could hoist her with one hand and hurl her over the Great Wall.
Even without powering on his power armor.
"Is this how blue coats say hello?" Scrambling to his feet, Ibers rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. "I can tell you're angry... and I'm very pleased."
"Are you a masochist?"
"Masochist? What is that? Never mind. In any case, anger is a good thing; getting angry is what makes someone human. An AI cannot feel true rage or joy..." Ibers shook his head. "Take my creator, the esteemed Mr. Fang Ming. It wasn't until the very end that it truly understood what the emotion of 'hatred' was."
Chu Guang looked at him. "And your point is?"
Brushing snow from his clothes, Ibers offered a slight bow, elegant as a gentleman—a mannerism clearly picked up from his previous clients.
"...Serving a flesh-and-blood human brings me joy. Deeply as I respected Mr. Fang Ming, serving a program was terribly boring."
Chu Guang gave him a surprised look.
"I took you for the type who just wants to watch the world burn."
"There is no contradiction. An AI is meant to serve humans, is it not?" Ibers said with a smile. "Hand you the slaughtering tools, and before long you will spill your guts and brains all over the place until not a single one remains. It is merely a matter of time.
"A year or a second—it makes no difference to me."
Looking at Ibers, who spoke of such horrific things without batting an eye, Chu Guang let out a soft sigh.
"Thinking for even a second that you might be a decent fellow was my mistake."
When Fang Ming coded his soul, he had likely projected all his malice toward humanity onto this entity without realizing it.
Xiao Qi disliked the people and things Chu Guang disliked.
This fellow was the same.
However intensely Fang Ming had loathed his mission, this AI loathed organics who displeased his master just as fiercely—even if his programming dictated absolute loyalty to his clients.
To humans, such a state was inherently contradictory; one could hardly be truly loyal to something one hated. But to an AI, it was another matter entirely.
Ibers bowed slightly, impeccably polite.
"Correction: I am not a person. I am an AI."
He could remain loyal to organic clients while simultaneously catering to their desires by supplying increasingly efficient slaughtering tools.
If anything, the existence of clients was an absolute necessity for him.
Chu Guang couldn't be bothered to banter further.
"Let me ask you something."
Ibers replied respectfully, "Please, ask away."
Chu Guang cut straight to the chase.
"Do cybernetic implants have side effects?"
Ever since Mosquito had installed that flashy prosthetic and flaunted it everywhere, half the server's players had turned into prospective clients for Boulder Military Industry.
Some wanted to become tankier; some wanted nitrous boosters on their backs; some wanted to make certain parts longer... and those were the relatively normal requests.
The abnormal ones were like the clowns in front of the bazaar: turning arms into excavator buckets, or cloaking only half their body to save a buck.
And Mosquito was ruthless enough on his own.
Earlier, he'd received a biological prosthetic from Little Yu, and before he even mastered the symbiont, he turned right around and ordered eight mechanical arms from Boulder Military Industry.
By that count, his brain had to manage twelve limbs, over a hundred joints, and care for another living organism dwelling inside his body.
Was that guy's head really okay?
Chu Guang remembered clearly: he was an Agility-type.
"Of course there are side effects. Even drinking too much water can kill you, let alone replacing flesh with machinery..." Seeing Chu Guang's gaze sharpen, Ibers hastily added, "Naturally, we provide both verbal and written warnings to inform clients of the risks associated with installing cybernetics beyond their body's tolerance! Every client is fully informed before undergoing any installation!"
Chu Guang pulled his gaze back from him.
"From now on, non-vault residents may only install prosthetics within their personal safe tolerance limits. Furthermore, any prosthetics featuring neural feedback, sensory simulation, or similar functions must be signed off and authorized by a licensed neurosurgeon. I will have my assistant send you the detailed regulations shortly."
Ordinary residents required regulation. Even if they didn't succumb to cyberpsychosis, the potential medical fallout was a burden borne by society as a whole.
As for the players...
They could do whatever they wanted.
They got a fresh clone every three days anyway. When grievously injured, they didn't even bother going to the hospital, preferring to have a teammate put them out of their misery to save time.
The vault was no longer desperately short on active matter. If they truly regretted their choices, they could just toss themselves into the converter furnace and be recycled.
Though disappointed, Ibers had no choice but to comply.
"Understood."
Chu Guang nodded and turned, preparing to take the elevator down from the Great Wall.
Boulder City's population far exceeded that of any other Alliance settlement. He still needed to coordinate with City Hall so they could prepare for the New Year's Eve festivities in advance.
Just then, a loud detonation echoed from the base of the Great Wall. The considerable tremor caused Chu Guang to pause in his tracks.
"Seems to be coming from outside."
Standing at the wall's edge, Ibers stroked his chin with an index finger.
Leaning over to peer down at the moss-like sprawl of shanties below, where billows of thick smoke were rising from one section, he continued with keen interest, "Such noises happen in the slums from time to time... Strictly speaking, that area lies outside Boulder City and falls outside municipal jurisdiction. If I recall correctly, a few gangs run the place."
In the past, the noble lords of the Inner City had wished nothing more than for all the beggars outside the wall to die off. Only when the Tide arrived would they recruit hands from among them, handing out rifles so they could go fill the trenches alongside mercenaries.
Hearing the word "gangs," Chu Guang narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I almost forgot about those rats."
He hadn't truly forgotten.
The first thing Refugee Home did upon arriving in Boulder City was stabilize the survivors in the Outer City slums, organizing them to pitch tents, providing food, and registering their names, height, weight, families, ages, and general living sectors.
It was disaster relief as well as a census.
Gang members had no interest in relief porridge or joining construction crews, at most planting a few low-level lackeys or peripheral figures as informants.
Through various measures, the Alliance had already relocated a portion of the refugees from the slums to eastern Dawn City for centralized management, while shifting massive labor forces to construction sites inside the tunnels outside Boulder City.
Consequently, the demographic profile of the able-bodied adults remaining in the slums became crystal clear.
People had to make a living somehow.
They either engaged in trade, served as mercenaries, or engaged in unspeakable illicit activities.
Through interrogations of Inner City nobles and inquiries throughout the city, the Guards Corps had already identified several gang ringleaders and high-ranking figures.
In particular, reliable intelligence revealed that the Dagger Gang, one of the three major syndicates hiding in the slums, maintained close business ties with the Bugra Free State to the north.
Chu Guang had originally planned to deal with those rats after the Tide ended. But it seemed they hadn't realized in the slightest that the skies over Qingquan City had changed.
With the tumor inside Boulder City excised, this region would no longer provide fertile soil for marauders, nor would Alliance territory tolerate the existence of criminal syndicates.
Since they couldn't wait...
Then when the Tide arrived, they could get their asses to the front and fill the trenches.
"Should we look into that... Well, consider that a stupid question."
Seeing Chu Guang's matter-of-fact expression, Ibers broke into a mischief-loving grin and turned to X-16. "A few little rats are setting off firecrackers right under our noses. Grab your gear and go take a look. Don't disappoint your master."
"Understood."
With an icy glint reflecting off her pitch-black visor, X-16 gave a slight nod. Without a single wasted word, she turned and marched toward the elevator...
Chapter 550