At the very same time the Legion ambassador from Triumph City was secretly meeting with Duke Garava, the imperial envoy stationed in Dawn City, another clandestine conference was underway.
Inside a vast, empty conference room.
Clad in a white lab coat, Yang Kai stood respectfully beside a pulled-out chair, as if waiting for someone.
The instant the minute hand struck the top of the hour, a figure suddenly materialized in the chair directly across the conference table.
The man possessed an ordinary, unremarkable appearance, devoid of any memorable features. Paired with a completely deadpan expression, he was the sort who would instantly vanish into a crowd.
Even so, one could tell from the B-rank researcher's reverent posture that this individual held an extraordinary status within the Academy.
"Sit."
Hearing the voice from across the table, Yang Kai did not hesitate for a second and immediately took a seat in the adjoining chair.
The moment he sat down, the lofty voice continued.
"Report on your work."
"Yes, esteemed Chief Technology Officer."
Yang Kai spoke with utmost deference, subsequently delivering an exhaustive report on the series of events that had unfolded south of the Wandering Marsh during this period.
He placed particular emphasis on matters concerning the Alliance.
"...According to our intelligence, the Alliance is planning to build a space elevator. I suspect they have recovered the blueprints from Vault 20, including its concept for an orbital-track-free elevator. Relevant clues can be found in our monitoring equipment's observation logs."
Pausing for a moment, Yang Kai continued.
"Additionally, just as we previously anticipated, they have turned their attention toward the 'Celestials.'"
The conference room fell quiet for a moment. Seated at the table, the Chief Technology Officer seemed lost in thought.
Yang Kai did not speak, patiently waiting for the superior's contemplation to finish.
After a long while, the voice came from ahead once more.
"Very good."
Hearing only that flat, unvarying tone, Yang Kai had no way of telling whether the phrase meant something positive or negative.
After hesitating briefly, he tested the waters in a probing tone.
"If things continue to develop along the current trajectory, the Alliance's next step will likely be attempting to clear orbital debris, and perhaps even establishing a space station in orbit... While that isn't inherently bad, I worry the situation might spiral out of control.
"As you know, what the Celestials loathe most is anyone reaching out toward outer space. If the Alliance insists on pushing forward with its space program, it could very well cause the Celestials' Descent Project to be moved up ahead of schedule."
In truth, the Academy's research vessels equipped with anti-gravity devices had always been capable of traveling freely between the surface and outer space.
Yet almost no one ever attempted to fly a research vessel near low Earth orbit, and even if they did, they would never linger for long.
Orbital debris and targeting locks by automated weapons were only part of the reason; more importantly, the Academy did not wish to cross the Celestials' bottom line.
Back during the era of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, the Technical Department had already discerned the Lagrange Point Space Station's intent to blockade Earth through continuous probing and testing.
For reasons of their own, the descendants of the expeditionary fleet did not want the survivor factions of the Wasteland Era to return to outer space.
Such a mindset was not entirely difficult to understand.
While rebuilding the wasteland required the technology and resources of the Era of Prosperity, those very remnants could conversely exacerbate the chaos on the surface, becoming fuel that sustained the continued existence of the Wasteland Era.
It was akin to handing a superweapon to a primitive tribe; it would not propel them into a more enlightened age, but rather allow them to revel endlessly in their old ways.
It was for that very reason that the Academy deliberately restricted the outflow of technology. Even their vassal, the Golden Lizard Kingdom, had not received much technological favor.
Yet what proved baffling was that the Celestials had never established criteria for when the Wasteland Era should end.
Consequently, their blockade of the Human Alliance's homeworld was entirely indiscriminate.
Because of this, the Academy's Ark Project could only be carried out covertly on the surface, unable to operate openly in outer space.
Vault 20 had very likely abandoned its trackless elevator concept for the exact same reason, turning instead to the extremely unstable secondary plan of mental projection.
The irony lay precisely here: the Celestials sought to create a sterile, pristine environment for human civilization, aiming to transition from the Wasteland Era to a new epoch at minimal cost, yet all they had produced were successive living hells.
Not only that.
In the name of "preserving the sparks of civilization," they absorbed those extreme consciousnesses that had created one hell after another into themselves.
According to Dr. Conclusion's conjecture, as these extreme consciousnesses accumulated, the Celestials would very likely intervene directly in wasteland affairs once a certain critical threshold was crossed.
That threshold might relate to the remaining lifespan of their own systems, or to phenomena observed from the wasteland.
For that reason, the Academy's researchers had been cautiously defusing the bombs across the wasteland that could trigger such a crisis.
The Church of the Torch was one such bomb.
In reality, they were not oblivious to the Celestials' increasingly direct interventions in wasteland affairs, as the Alliance Administrator had accused them of being.
They had noticed it long ago!
And that was precisely what they worried about most...
After listening to Yang Kai's report, the Chief Technology Officer pondered for a long time before finally letting out a faint sigh.
"...Even if we worry about such things, it is of no use. What is bound to happen will happen sooner or later. Furthermore, compared to the risks that might arise from the Alliance's actions, I am more eager to see whether their moves might bring a glimmer of change to this stagnant pond."
A look of realization crossed Yang Kai's face.
"...You want them to act as a disruptor?"
The Chief Technology Officer spoke at an unhurried pace.
"It is the approach with the lowest cost and least risk... Haven't you noticed the Enterprise's Board of Directors has been doing the exact same thing?"
Yang Kai gave a bitter smile.
"Be that as it may... I constantly worry they might drag us into the mud. That lot doesn't play by the rules."
The Chief Technology Officer said in a quiet voice, "We cannot expect events to unfold entirely according to our wishes. However, if the price to pay is small, I consider being dragged into the water acceptable."
"Understood..." Yang Kai nodded earnestly and continued respectfully, "May I ask if you have any further instructions, sir?"
The Chief Technology Officer thought for a moment before saying, "None for the time being. Let us watch and see how things develop... By the way, consider transferring the relevant gravity-well technology to them. It should provide some help to their space elevator project."
Hearing this, Yang Kai breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed there were no new thorny tasks awaiting him after all.
He bowed his head slightly and replied respectfully, "Understood..."
The moment his words fell, the pale blue holographic light dissolved into specks of pixels, dispersing like sand swept away by the wind...
...
In the heart of the Great Desert, yellow sand swirled endlessly across the sky, churning over the ground like rolling clouds.
This was the exact center of the Central Continent.
Heading due west along the equator led to Legion territory, while crossing an expanse of open sea to the east led to Brahma Province.
At that moment, a man clad in a blue vault suit stood atop a sand dune, gazing toward the far eastern horizon.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and he clicked his tongue softly.
"...Those fools really met a pathetic end."
His name was Guixu, president of the Enlightenment Society and overseer of Vault 0—though both titles were entirely self-bestowed.
Ever since the outbreak of the War in Heaven, he had been closely monitoring the situation in Haiya Province.
And the final outcome had unfolded exactly as he anticipated: the eastern heretics were brutally battered by the coalition of ancient survivor factions until they were beaten within an inch of their lives.
Like crushed cockroaches, those wretches were pinned to the earth without the slightest suspense.
Regarding the Church of the Torch's fate, his feelings were naturally dominated by ridicule.
That bunch was simply devoid of wit and far too high-profile. They had managed to offend practically every party they could possibly offend; it would have been a miracle if they hadn't perished.
In contrast, the true inheritors of the Torch Project—the Enlightenment Society—were entirely different.
Their clandestine modus operandi ensured that even if the ancient survivor factions despised them, they could never pinpoint where they hid, forced merely to run in circles beneath their shadow.
Furthermore, the relentless sandstorms of the Great Desert provided the ultimate cover.
The sand, laced with rust, not only blocked all prying eyes, but also jammed noisy electromagnetic waves, dividing the interior and exterior of the Great Desert into two isolated worlds with no information exchange.
So long as they never stepped out of this place, no one could touch them.
Casting a cold glance toward the east, Guixu was just about to turn and leave.
Right then, a faint disturbance sounded from above his head.
Sharply sensing an object approaching at high speed, he halted his steps and looked up, only to see a dark streak arc across the sky and slam heavily into a distant sand dune.
"...What in the world is that?"
A scrapped satellite?
Crashing right here, of all places?
An uncertain expression surfaced on Guixu's face. His gaze drifted continuously between the sky and the ground, as though weighing something in his mind.
Although orbital debris occasionally dropped into the Great Desert, this was the very first time an object had landed right beside the entrance to the Enlightenment Society's headquarters.
It didn't look like it had fallen on its own; rather, it felt as though someone had delivered it right to their doorstep...
Pressing an index finger to his ear, he spoke into his comms in a cautious tone.
"...Night Dove, something fell nearby. Go check it out."
A reply came swiftly over the channel.
"Understood."
The moment the acknowledgment sounded, several figures emerged from the sky-blotting dust storm, marching toward the dune struck by the object.
They were well equipped, wielding standard Human Alliance Army assault rifles, and their exoskeletons were uniformly finished in desert camouflage.
The disciple walking at the forefront of the squad was Night Dove.
Unlike the others in the squad, he was not a vault resident in the true sense, but an android engineered by them.
Precisely because of this, he enjoyed Guixu's deep trust, regarded by the latter as his right-hand man.
Watching the squad advance in the distance, Guixu waited patiently for a moment.
He did not have to wait long before a report came through the comm channel.
"...It's a decommissioned satellite, sir."
Just as expected.
Hearing that it was merely a junked satellite, Guixu instantly lost interest and issued a succinct command.
"Recover it and hand it over to the technical section to examine."
During the Human Alliance era, there were tens of millions of satellites at the very least. Expecting to find anything useful inside one was no different from fishing for a needle in the ocean.
He harbored little hope of unearthing any treasures from it.
Night Dove acknowledged with a "Yes" over the channel, then stepped forward to retrieve the satellite from the sand.
Yet the moment his hands made contact with it, an unexpected anomaly occurred.
His eyes snapped wide open. His entire frame froze on the spot, his shoulders twitching as though electrocuted, followed by streams of pale blue data cascading across his pupils.
The surrounding soldiers were stunned by the sight. Not knowing what was happening to their squad leader, they stood frozen in place, at a complete loss.
"What's going on?!"
"It's that satellite!"
"Quick, get that thing away from his hands!"
The vice-captain standing nearby reacted decisively, rushing forward to wrest the satellite from Night Dove's grasp. But no sooner had he extended his hands with that intention than a cold flash of light sliced across his wrists.
The beam seemed to emit from a point on the scrap satellite, shearing straight through his wrists. In the next instant, he watched helplessly as his hands severed from his exoskeleton.
Blood gushed violently from the clean cuts.
Only then did a piercing, bone-deep agony slowly crawl into his nerve endings.
"Aaaargh!" the vice-captain shrieked, collapsing to his knees with a thud. Within just a few breaths, the patch of sand before him was dyed crimson.
Witnessing this sudden turn of events, the surrounding soldiers were dumbfounded. Almost by reflex, they raised their rifles, training them on the malfunctioning Night Dove.
Right then, however, Night Dove's pupils suddenly flushed a deep crimson. As if possessed by a different entity, he glared at the soldiers aiming at him.
Immediately after, the soldiers discovered to their horror that their limbs felt locked tight into their exoskeletons. No matter how frantically they struggled, they could not move an inch.
Looking at this flock of sheep waiting to be slaughtered, Night Dove rolled his neck, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint sneer.
Just as he was about to teach these insolent fools a lesson, a drone suddenly popped out from one soldier's backpack.
Pale blue holographic beams projected from beneath the drone's chassis, weaving Guixu's silhouette upon the soft sand.
"Stop!"
Night Dove slowly lowered his raised hand, sizing up the holographic projection from head to toe before the corners of his mouth ticked upward.
"A pleasure to meet you."
Standing within the holographic light, Guixu glared at him coldly and demanded without expression, "What kind of thing are you?"
Though he did not understand what had transpired, he could distinctly sense that his confidant's body had been overtaken by some foul entity.
And the source of it all was that satellite that had suddenly plummeted from the heavens...
As he spoke, his gaze drifted downward, settling upon the silver-white sphere held in Night Dove's hands against his chest.
Facing Guixu's inquiry, the entity occupying Night Dove's body made no attempt to conceal itself, stating straightforwardly, "I am what you call a heretic."
Guixu's eyes narrowed into slits, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone.
The moment the word "heretic" left the other's mouth, he had already deduced the fellow's identity.
There was no need to guess.
This entity was a Harbinger of the Torch!
"...What did you come here to do?"
"To save you."
Save us?
Guixu stared blankly at first, then burst into uproarious laughter, as though he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Save us? Good one... Too bad we don't need your salvation. If you have the spare time, you'd better save yourselves instead."
The Harbinger controlling Night Dove waited quietly until he finished laughing before speaking in an unhurried manner.
"...Look at the pathetic state you're in now, hiding deep in the Great Desert eating sand, still dreaming of fulfilling some Torch Project... Heh, if you ask me, the survivor factions out there don't take you seriously in the slightest."
Hearing that mocking voice, a flicker of irritation flared in Guixu's eyes, and he lowered his voice dangerously.
"We merely keep a low profile... You think we are anything like you?"
"I've never thought that; it would be an insult to us," the Harbinger replied in an even tone, gazing at Guixu, who was teetering on the edge of an outburst. "You inherited every flaw of the blue coats, including weakness, arrogance, and conceited self-righteousness. Even though we lost, we at least burned brilliantly and fiercely, whereas from beginning to end you have been rats hiding in the sewer. Is merely surviving something to be proud of? In my view, the only difference between you and dead men is that you haven't been laid into your coffins yet."
Guixu looked at him coldly and countered, "No matter how much you talk, it won't change the fact that you're a loser."
"True."
Paying the retort no mind, the Harbinger merely said in a soft voice, "Regrettable as it is, the kingdom of heaven in Haiya Province has indeed collapsed... But are you truly not interested in us at all? We left behind a colossal legacy—one so vast that even the ancient survivor factions are squabbling over it."
Guixu narrowed his eyes once more, staring unblinkingly at the android.
"How do you intend to help us?"
Seeing the flicker of interest on the man's face, the Harbinger finally curled his lips into a smile.
Under Guixu's watchful gaze, he spoke slowly.
"The Gestalt Lifeform project... I know we weren't the only ones researching it; you have been studying it all along as well... But evidently, your scholars haven't delved as deeply as ours."
Guixu: "...And?"
"And so, I plan to transfer the knowledge we possess to you."
Hearing those words, Guixu froze for two seconds, staring at the figure before him in disbelief.
Wary suspicion and naked greed alternated in his eyes, but ultimately the latter won out.
He admitted he was indeed tempted.
Yet driven by his innate paranoia, he still asked cautiously, "...Why would you do that?"
The Harbinger replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "Isn't it obvious? I want to make use of your ambition. And as it stands, you are the ones best qualified to wield the legacy we left behind."
Those grey-skinned "improved variants" were the handiwork of the Enlightenment Society.
Technology applicable to green-skinned mutants could likewise be applied to those grey-skinned mutants.
An irrepressible surge of ecstasy welled up in Guixu's heart.
Especially after hearing the fellow's candid admission, he burst into hearty laughter once more.
"Hahaha! Fascinating... You want to use our ambition, so what do you expect to get from us in return?"
The Harbinger replied casually, "Nothing much for now. Just lend me this body for a while."
Hearing such a simple request, Guixu no longer cared whether Night Dove was his confidant or not. Under the stunned gazes of the soldiers, he agreed readily without hesitation.
"No problem. It's yours already."
Compared to a mere android, recruiting a former Harbinger of the Torch as an ally was an extraordinary bargain!
Especially when it came bundled with the research breakthroughs of the Gestalt Lifeform project!
With the Church of the Torch's technology, he was utterly confident he could forge a mutant army several times larger than the Church's!
An army built on savagery and destruction that would permanently sear the word 'fear' into the hearts of all survivors!
Having received an affirmative answer, a smile crept onto the face of the Harbinger inhabiting the android.
"Thank you."
Guixu looked at him with an equally warm smile, an unconscious touch of respect entering his voice.
"How should I address you? Harbinger? Or... would you care to serve as an Elder among us?"
"No need. I have my own name."
Cradling the satellite in both hands, the android pondered for a brief moment before speaking.
"You may call me... 'Apocalypse.'"
"Apocalypse... Haha, excellent, excellent! A fine name!" Guixu's smile grew increasingly cheerful, while the soldiers standing near the holographic projection exchanged baffled glances.
Glancing at the vice-captain lying in shock from massive blood loss, one soldier swallowed hard and whispered into the comm channel in a hushed voice.
"President, sir... What about our vice-captain?"
Hearing the quiet reminder, Guixu finally noticed the fellow who had lost both hands, sprawled helpless on the ground.
Wasting no time pondering such a trivial matter, he issued an indifferent instruction offhandedly.
"Find a spot and bury him."
Hearing those words, the surrounding soldiers exchanged looks of shock and bewilderment, unable to believe such callousness had come from the mouth of their revered president.
Yet an order was an order.
Remembering the consequences of insubordination, even with ten thousand grievances in their hearts, they could only stiffly lower their heads and acknowledge in deep voices.
"Understood..."
Watching the squad drag the body away into the distance, Guixu turned back to Apocalypse, who stood holding the satellite, and smiled warmly.
"The body you inhabit was originally their captain, so they are your subordinates from now on... Please follow me. I will take you to where we rest and reside."
Knowing full well the man did not trust him entirely, Apocalypse said nothing more. He merely cast a meaningful glance at Guixu, fell into step behind him, and vanished alongside the light-projecting drone into the swirling yellow sands...
A new conflict had quietly raised its curtain, but for the moment, such brewing troubles had not dampened the joy and celebration of the wasteland survivors basking in their victory in the War in Heaven.
Chu Guang was still conducting his official tour across the archipelagos of the Southern Sea.
Meanwhile, Camp 101 had formally initiated the space elevator project. The project's team of experts had already arrived in the Southern Sea by chartered plane, surveying the waters near Coral City accompanied by engineers from Shelter 70.
Before designing the entire foundation of the space elevator, site selection had to be completed first.
That way, when Alliance delegates brought their presentations to the Coalition conferences to discuss the project with representatives of other survivor factions, it would look a bit less like a joke.
And while Chu Guang labored tirelessly on behalf of the Alliance's survivors, his little players were not idling either.
As was customary, following the conclusion of every expansion, the server entered a relatively peaceful period of development.
This was the prime cycle for life-profession players.
After all, the combat-profession players had enjoyed their thrill; it was only fair to let the life-profession players have their fun. What was more, development and construction remained the primary theme of Wasteland OL, a casual simulator with a lighthearted spirit.
At present, most of the Alliance's core settlements had entered a development plateau. Some players were gradually shifting their attention toward Brahma Province, while others eyed Haiya Province, which had just been conquered by the Coalition forces.
Of course, alongside those who followed standard logic, Wasteland OL never lacked players with bizarre brainwaves.
While most players were contemplating how to keep pace with the patch, a small handful had already begun brainstorming ways to lead the meta, looking for trouble of their own accord.
Take Brother Mosquito, for example, who had walked the red carpet alongside the Administrator not long ago. He had set his sights on the Legion's 37th Myriad, who were currently head-down, digging furiously on the front line.
Amid the ruins of Haibei City.
Eyeing the Wilante decurion before him—whose face was pitch-black, looking like he had just crawled out of a coal pit—Mosquito politely offered him a lit cigarette.
"...Digging bit by bit with shovels is way too exhausting. Why don't you guys just buy a couple of excavators?"
The Wilante blushed furiously, straining for a long while before squeezing out a sentence.
"We don't have money."
"No money? That's easy! Our excavators happen to be free of charge!" Mosquito chuckled, warmly slinging an arm over the bewildered big-nosed soldier's shoulder and continuing, "Just trade your equipment for them. I'll take a slight loss on my end... One tank for one excavator. What do you say?"
Chapter 804