When Chu Guang discovered that Shelter 100's communication module was overloaded, his conditioned reflex had been to assume a situation similar to Shelter 79 had occurred—lingering ghosts wandering a tomb that was supposed to sleep.
Yet the ultimate result defied his expectations.
According to the information exchanged by players on the forums, the communication module's overload had not been caused by human sabotage as he had imagined. Instead, the ignition of the fusion reactor had rebooted the life monitoring module, awakening the dormant artificial intelligence and causing the "dome self-destruction sequence"—halted a century and a half ago—to resume its countdown.
Fortunately, his clever players had made resourceful use of the clue left behind by that "Tombkeeper." By expanding the detection range of the life monitoring sensors, they successfully led the AI administrator to identify the insects in the shelter as descendants of the shelter's residents, thereby aborting the dome self-destruction sequence.
What remained to be done was straightforward.
Once they repaired the communication module, reclaimed administrator privileges, and thoroughly purged the towering mountain of buggy code left behind by sixty years of struggle between the "Tree People" and the "Worker Ants" from the database, the shelter could return to normal.
After two centuries, the facility was no longer fit to serve as a foundry well. At least until the insects inside were dealt with, it would need to continue existing as a shelter.
When the time was right, the Alliance would decide on a new purpose for it.
However, regarding this shelter, a lingering question remained in Chu Guang's mind.
Aside from the overseer named Craig, who had died in the shelter as a mortal human, where had the other 110 residents who uploaded their minds into circuit boards gone?
He had found no trace of those 110 residents in the shelter's database.
They could hardly have uploaded their minds into circuit boards only to vanish from the shelter into thin air.
As Chu Guang pondered, it suddenly struck him that when his players had first entered the shelter, Xiao Qi seemed to have mentioned an access log on the terminal outside the entrance from the year 2190.
The year 2190 was Year 61 of the Wasteland Era.
That year happened to be the exact point in time when the life signs of the shelter's last survivor—the overseer named Craig—had vanished from the shelter...
...
Shelter 101.
After a few days, Chu Guang visited Dr. Method once more. The meeting place was still the cafe where they had previously made contact.
Unlike last time, however, this cafe tucked into a corner of the bustling downtown was nearly packed. Chu Guang walked all the way to a corner near the display cabinets deep inside before spotting Method waving to him.
"Over here."
Approaching Dr. Method, Chu Guang pulled out the chair directly across from him, sat down, and got straight to the point.
"Thank you for the passcode. The legacy of Shelter 100 was truly help in a time of dire need for us, especially that plasma engine."
Hearing Chu Guang's thanks, Dr. Method smiled faintly, lifted his coffee cup to take a sip, and said in a pleasant tone:
"Is that so? I'm glad to have been of help. I imagine the residents of Shelter 100 would also be gratified that someone can carry on fulfilling their unfinished mission."
Chu Guang sighed softly.
"We managed to gather the materials to produce a prototype using that black box and dismantled the resulting unit. Unfortunately, our engineers haven't been able to fully digest the technology, let alone find a way to manufacture it outside the black box. For now, they can only design an aircraft tailored around that prototype and the batteries."
Dr. Method showed no surprise. Instead, he offered Chu Guang a comforting word.
"That's only natural. Given your current conditions, attempting to independently produce something like that is nothing short of a fantasy. You lack not just the technology itself, but also the hardware necessary to bring it into reality. There's no need to fret over what cannot yet be done. The black boxes are more than enough to help you transition from 'having nothing' to 'knowing both what it is and why it works.' What you must do is take things one step at a time and walk the path right before you."
Speaking up to this point, Method seemed to recall something and added with a teasing chuckle:
"Of course, there is another possibility: that those black boxes remain black boxes to you until the very end, turning from helpful tools into an addiction you can never shake."
"I will be on guard against that."
After leaving that reply, Chu Guang paused briefly, tapped twice on his left forearm with his index finger, and a holographic interface promptly materialized before him.
Seeing the holographic image Chu Guang pushed toward him, Method raised an eyebrow slightly.
"What's this?"
Chu Guang answered succinctly:
"Our residents found more than just the black boxes and administrator logs in the shelter. They also discovered records left behind respectively by the 'Tree,' the 'Tree People,' and the 'Worker Ants.' They've attempted to compile and organize the sixty-three-year history of Shelter 100."
In truth, he had simply copy-pasted what the players discussed on the forum, deleting some subjective commentary and keeping the relatively objective portions.
With evident interest, Method reached out an index finger, dragged the holographic screen in front of himself, and swiped through a couple of pages.
"...Intriguing."
He looked up at Chu Guang and said in a playful, wry tone:
"...So in the end, the Worker Ants whom the Tree People believed would rather turn themselves into bugs just to escape didn't actually turn themselves into bugs, nor did they truly escape the shelter. And that poor soul who survived until the very end on the lowest level—that 'fool who didn't hesitate to tear the house down just to flee'—actually let the bugs consume him in order to save the shelter he detested with every fiber of his being.
"How ironic.
"I imagine if Craig were still alive, he wouldn't know whether to laugh or cry. He might even mock the wretched wretch—'If they hadn't preferred hiding themselves in cold storage just to destroy the shelter, how could Shelter 100 have ended up like this? A bunch of lowly vermin! Even doing a trivial little deed at death's door isn't enough to atone for their sins!'"
As he said this, he raised his voice slightly, as though this were no private chat, but rather words meant for someone sitting in this noisy cafe.
Or perhaps, reading aloud someone's inner voice.
Chu Guang noticed that someone sitting not far away had clenched their fist on the table, only to slowly uncurl it.
Combined with the teasing smirk on Method's face, Chu Guang confirmed the suspicion in his heart: this guy had met Craig.
Via the terminal outside the entrance.
After thinking for a moment, Chu Guang voiced his own thoughts.
"My view differs from yours. To an outsider like me, both the Tree People and the Worker Ants were residents of Shelter 100. One portion sought power and wanted to turn the shelter into a perpetual prison, while the other sought freedom and didn't hesitate to destroy the shelter to get it.
"In their conflict, both sides employed the most extreme and lethal measures, turning rules originally established to protect them into tools to persecute their own kind. In my view, that is why they ultimately hurtled toward ruin.
"In fact, every single action they took was entirely compliant with the rules of their system at the time—whether masking their life signs to trigger the dome self-destruction mechanism or exploiting software bugs to overload the reactor and cut the power. What baffles the mind is that not one person ever thought to patch these long-standing safety vulnerabilities. Instead, they hoarded them like nuclear warheads to use against each other.
"Normally, shelter residents wouldn't crawl into cold storage en masse, nor would a fusion reactor ever overload. Yet they performed every single operation the designers had never dreamed of, resulting in tens of thousands of deaths and a reactor shutdown lasting well over a century."
Pausing briefly and seeing Method gesture for him to continue, Chu Guang spoke on in a conversational tone:
"The fellow who called himself the Tombkeeper had actually realized in the end that whether ordinary residents or the lofty overseers, all were fundamentally parts of the shelter. The Tree People hadn't descended from some nonexistent tree; they were born from among their very own ranks. Their tragic end wasn't the fault of any single person's stupidity, but everyone bore an inescapable responsibility for it.
"From an outsider's perspective, I believe his actions in his final moments were enough to atone for his sins. Shelter 404 will take up their torch and carry their memories forward, pressing ahead in their stead to complete the mission they momentarily lost sight of."
As he said this, a touch of regret showed on Chu Guang's face.
The shelter had been saved.
Yet this was clearly not the most perfect outcome.
Pausing, he continued:
"...Of course, if that gentleman of the Tree People who survived to the very end had spared a few minutes in Year 61 of the Wasteland Era—at death's door—to visit the bottom floor of the shelter and take thirty minutes to understand what transpired there, perhaps it wouldn't have taken us over a century later to draw a close to their feud."
The answers had already been written down.
Copying them wouldn't have been difficult.
Even under a language barrier requiring translators, the Alliance's players had still managed, with only scattered clues and educated guesses, to decipher the last words left by that surviving "Worker Ant." Using the final key he had forged with his own life, they shut down the systemic error that could have brought about the collapse of the entire shelter.
Just then, a choked sob came from an adjacent table not far away.
"Craig... that guy would never mock him... if he had known what that man did."
The words sounded as though squeezed through clenched teeth.
Chu Guang looked in the direction of the voice. A man in a gray jacket sat with his back turned to them, shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
He was not the only one.
It was the same for the others.
Halting sobs drifted over from another direction.
"I remember that boy... He became an overseer in Year 53, just a lad in his early twenties back then."
"He loved that place more than anyone. I still remember him saying... once everything was over, he wanted to open a museum in the shelter and tell stories of the past to the young folks of the new People's Alliance."
"Damn it... Why didn't that idiot come find me?! Why didn't he use my body?! I had already decided to abandon my flesh! Why couldn't he just take mine and use it?!"
The lively atmosphere of the cafe had vanished at some point, replaced by faces filled with stunned bewilderment, weeping grief, and eyes closed in deep remorse.
It appeared that just as he had guessed—
The 110 residents who uploaded their minds into the "Great Tree" had not slept eternally in Shelter 100. Rather, someone had brought them out of that hopeless shelter in Year 61 of the Wasteland Era.
That person was Method.
After establishing a comprehensive technology recovery system for the Technical Department of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee and dedicating nearly his entire life to it, he had left the Great Rift Valley in disappointment in Year 45 of the Wasteland Era, heading south on a path diametrically opposed to the Academy's.
Shelter 101 had clearly not been the first shelter he visited. The access log left more than a century ago on the terminal outside Shelter 100's entrance was his!
Meeting Chu Guang's inquiring gaze, Method offered no explanation, simply taking another gentle sip of his coffee just as he had when Chu Guang first walked in.
Then, he spoke with profound implication:
"What do you think would have been the best ending for them?"
Chu Guang pondered for a moment, then replied:
"Every component fulfilling its intended purpose."
Method asked, "Meaning?"
Chu Guang answered succinctly:
"Literally what it says. The 'Tree' as administrator, overseers being overseers, residents being residents. They actually had a decent start; conditions in other shelters were probably far worse than theirs. Yet in practice, they completely deviated from the original vision. The residents closest to the Tree became Tree People parasitic to it, while the residents farthest from the Tree ceased even being human."
"Each doing their part, eh? You're speaking of the most idealized scenario, but practical execution can be another matter entirely." Setting down his coffee cup, Method gave a faint smile. "Take the Post-War Reconstruction Committee. Believe it or not, back then it was the best solution. Never had so many people from diverse backgrounds devoted everything they had to a single cause without reservation. Without it, this planet might already be 'dead.' And yet, even so, it only lasted forty-five years."
Chu Guang stated bluntly:
"I know. The worst choice is always the easiest, while the best choice is always the hardest. That's why we won't become them."
Method raised his eyebrows slightly.
"And which kind are you, then?"
Chu Guang rose from the coffee table.
Judging that it was time to depart, Chu Guang cast a glance at the remnants of Shelter 100 weeping for yesterday around him, then answered Method's question:
"We fall between the two.
"Neither the best, nor the worst."
...
The excavation of Shelter 100 came to an end. Twenty-two black boxes were successively recovered from the shelter, along with a massive haul of mechanical equipment.
Shelter 100 had left behind an astonishing technological legacy. In particular, a series of construction machinery including the "Bie-type" engineering armor was far better suited for complex terrain than the Alliance's standard "KV" and "Miner" series exoskeletons. Workers could even scale near-vertical workfaces while performing tasks completely without scaffolding or auxiliary gear.
Because the overseers of Shelter 100 had originally intended to spend their entire lives underground, the shelter's ingenuity had for a long time focused entirely on how to use limited resources and space to make the shelter environment more livable.
Aside from that, there were those little creatures called Crunchers.
Their genetic ancestor was likely the chafer beetle, but the original DNA had been modified beyond all recognition—it could well be treated as an entirely new species.
Their shed carapaces were high-grade chitin raw materials, usable both in manufacturing polymer ballistic plates slotted into exoskeletons and in producing carbon-based integrated circuits.
Shelter 100's database preserved extensive experimental data and complete industrial application methods for these chitin materials.
According to that data, the Alliance could directly exploit the piles of chitin material in the shelter's lightwell like raw ore.
Considering that over six million insects thrived there, the location would likely serve as a biological mine for the Alliance for a long time to come.
Simultaneously, an ecological impact analysis of the "Crunchers" was underway.
According to Alliance biologists, due to Xizhou City's unique ecological environment, a variety of organisms—including mutant water striders, battleship shrimps, and even split-claw crabs—acted as natural predators to the "Crunchers." Consequently, this species had not spread beyond Xizhou City onto the broader wasteland like Deathclaws had.
Even so, precisely because they survived in such harsh conditions, the "Crunchers" of today were far more aggressive than those of a century ago, and the stingers hidden under their abdomens were noticeably sharper.
Currently, the Alliance's Biological Research Institute, taking recommendations from Shelter 404, officially designated the "Crunchers" discovered in Year 213 of the Wasteland Era as "ghost-face bugs," initiating further exploration into the biotechnology they held and the industrial value of their shells.
In short, the novel gadgets recovered from Shelter 100 would be more than enough to keep the Alliance's various research institutes and manufacturing units busy for a full year.
Camp 100.
Looking at the machinery piled high like small mountains in the warehouse, I'm the Darkest couldn't help but sigh:
"Is there not a single normal shelter on this wasteland?"
The Scientific Expedition needed to appraise the value of the items obtained from this grave-robbing venture before settling the rewards earned by the Storm Corps for this operation.
That task would take a few days.
Even though the shelter's passcode and coordinates had been provided by the quest, and all they had done was the easy work of prying open coffin lids, the merit of saving the shelter was still credited to them. The final reward in silver coins and contribution points was bound to satisfy everyone.
And as corps leader, Brother Spring had also credited the players who plunged deep into the dungeon with major commendations.
Hearing Brother I'm the Darkest's grumble, Spring gave a light chuckle:
"Is it possible that normal shelters never needed us to dig up their graves in the first place? Over the past two centuries, they already carried out their original plans—either joining survivor settlements on the surface or becoming settlements themselves."
Leaving aside eccentric anomalies like the Enlightenment Society, Boulder City had continuously absorbed blue jackets after Year 50 of the Wasteland Era.
Beyond that, the Enterprise had also originated from a shelter, and a single-digit one at that.
Not to mention the Alliance itself, which had even nursed a number of failing shelters back to life.
"Survivorship bias, huh?"
I'm the Darkest sighed. His gaze suddenly landed on the metallic sphere riding atop a robotic spider nearby, and he couldn't help but chuckle as he continued:
"By the way, why did you follow us out too?"
Perched on the back of the robotic spider, Bell tilted its head up displeasedly.
"You're asking me? I want to ask you guys! Didn't we agree that I was going to be a museum tour guide? So where on earth is this Alliance museum? How long do I have to stay in this damned place?"
I'm the Darkest looked at it with a bizarre expression.
Having this guy as a museum guide...
Could they actually sell any tickets?
Just then, footsteps came from outside the door.
The two humans and one AI standing inside the room looked toward the doorway almost at the same time, seeing an unfamiliar man standing there.
He was not alone. Behind him trailed a loose, sizeable crowd that looked to be about a hundred strong.
They wore blue jackets, yet their skin was a lusterless gray, like mannequins displayed in an aged shop window.
Without question, they were bionic synths.
Yet whether by design or not, they had made their synth traits glaringly obvious—jarringly so. Not only were they uniformly bald, but even their facial features were reduced to cursory outlines.
They looked just like Frost and Eclipse when they had first arrived at the Alliance.
Looking at the person standing in the doorway, I'm the Darkest hesitated for a second before blurting out:
"Who are you?"
"My name is... Gurgel," the man said, seemingly taking a moment to recall his own name before placing a hand over his chest in a slight bow. "We are the survivors of Shelter 100."
I'm the Darkest went completely blank. Standing beside him, Spring was just as stunned, identical looks of astonishment dawning on their faces.
As for Bell, it stared wide-eyed at the man before them.
"Gurgel?! It's you?! You guys... actually came back?! How strange! My master said all the cowards died, and that he was going to die soon too! Why are you alive again?!"
Looking at the chattering Bell, a trace of grief touched Gurgel's abstract facial contours. Sighing softly as if unwilling to reminisce further, he turned his gaze to I'm the Darkest and Spring.
"The people of this camp told me I could find you here, and through you, we could reach that Administrator."
Commander Spring gathered himself and asked with an odd expression:
"What... do you want with him?"
"We wish to meet with him."
The man named Gurgel paused for a moment, then spoke in a sincere voice:
"We originally intended to sleep eternally in Shelter 101, but that place can no longer harbor our guilty, troubled remnants.
"So we thought, rather than spend the rest of our time in repentance, we would rather fulfill the lifelong wishes of the compatriots who died on our account.
"If you intend to rebuild the wasteland, our knowledge should be of some use. Perhaps this may ease some of the torment in our hearts.
"We hope he will take us in!"
Spring parted his lips, just about to say something, when a resonant voice boomed from just outside the doorway:
"The Alliance is not a charity. We take in no one."
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice.
There stood an azure suit of power armor under the sunlight, looking with a smile at the crowd gathered at the warehouse entrance.
"However—"
Just as Spring expected, his tone shifted.
"...Anyone who genuinely desires from the bottom of their heart to end the wasteland, and who willingly resolves to contribute their strength toward that cause, we welcome their joining!
"Whether they are living, or already dead."
Looking at the slightly moved Gurgel, Chu Guang extended his right hand.
"Welcome, survivors of Shelter 100.
"Tell me what work you do best, and then we can get started!"
Chapter 625