With Hunting Claw's demise, the battle in the abandoned town drew to a close. The marauders of the Cannibal tribe and the other factions were either dead or scattered in flight.
From the direction the marauders had fled, Commander Spring deduced that their lair was located around the ruins of Yanshan City, roughly a hundred kilometers from Settlement No. 10.
The northeastern reaches of Haiya Province were dotted with ruins from the Era of Prosperity. Without a definite target, tracking these bastards down would have been no different from searching for a needle in a haystack.
Perhaps putting a few geostationary satellites into orbit in the future would solve that problem once and for all.
Regardless, once the marauders' stronghold had been pinpointed, a Viper transport made an emergency takeoff from Settlement No. 10, skimmed low over the terrain toward the abandoned town, loaded up the nuclear warhead with its communications module jammed, and hurtled toward Yanshan City carrying nearly ten reckless players.
Meanwhile, on the western outskirts of Settlement No. 10, the marauders lying in ambush were still daydreaming, idly counting the clouds in the sky, utterly oblivious to the fact that their leader was already dead.
Perched on the hood of an off-road vehicle, Ruifu aimed his "new toy" at a bird perched on a branch, preparing to test his marksmanship. But before he could squeeze the trigger, the bird darted its head around vigilantly and fluttered away without warning. Ruifu clicked his tongue in annoyance and lowered the weapon.
A Drone X-2 assault rifle, manufactured by Boulder Military Enterprises in the year 210 of the Wasteland Era—it looked like it had been stamped from the very same mold as the Enterprise's G9 "Black Swan" assault rifle.
According to the Southern Legion soldiers, you could get anything you wanted in the Free State so long as you had the coin.
More importantly, they didn't care whether they were dealing with humans or ghosts, nor did they give a damn where the money came from.
Even though the place was over a thousand kilometers away, he truly wanted to go see it if the chance ever presented itself.
Looking over at Lite, who was spacing out beside him, Ruifu struck up a casual conversation. "What do you plan on doing once we wrap up this job?"
Hearing the voice beside him, Lite yawned lazily and replied offhandedly, "Dunno. Grab a couple bottles of booze, find a girl, and just live day to day."
At this utterly uninspired response, the corner of Ruifu's mouth twitched. "Come on, don't you have any higher ambitions?"
Seeing Lite's blank stare, Ruifu pressed on patiently. "Listen, buddy, chaos is coming... Just like the Southern Legion said, the entire Alliance is going to collapse in an instant. The eastern provinces will belong to us again, and there'll be opportunities everywhere you look."
Looking at this gullible fool who had swallowed the pitch whole, Lite scoffed. "Give me a break. Those big-noses hooked you up with cybernetics—did they secretly swap out your brain while they were at it? The Alliance didn't exist two centuries ago either, and back before those blue gophers crawled out of their holes, I didn't see any golden opportunities lying around. People still just scraped by."
"How is that the same?" Ruifu shook his head, his eyes burning with ambition. "Those scavengers back then weren't nearly as fat as they are now. Once we seize their farmland, factories, and research institutes, we can use that wealth to build an empire of our own for marauders!"
Lite grinned. "And then who are you going to rob?"
Ruifu froze, scratched his ears and cheek for a moment, and blurted, "I haven't thought that far ahead yet. I heard there's an old-era colony five light-years out."
"And you're going to build a spaceship to get there? Quit joking, man." Lite sneered, dismissing the words as complete nonsense.
It wasn't that no one had ever tried to build some "empire of marauders," but everyone who tried had ultimately failed.
The reason was simple: marauders had no need for an empire. The moment there was nothing left to plunder, they would rip each other apart over whatever scraps remained. He had seen far too many self-important fools like this, their heads swollen by power that had dropped into their laps out of thin air.
Seeing that Ruifu remained unconvinced, Lite paused and offered a word of advice. "Believe half of what those big-noses tell you, and you're better off not believing the other half either... And another thing: if you're thinking of going solo, you'd better make damn sure One-Eye doesn't find out."
"I'm just talking. I never said I was actually gonna do it." Ruifu cast an uneasy glance behind him and gave a meek, forced laugh.
The Cannibal tribe was the largest marauder tribe in Yanshan City. Any of its chieftains, dropped into neighboring Yuema Province, would have been a petty warlord ruling his own turf.
Because of that, the tribe's discipline was exceptionally harsh. Anyone harboring disloyal thoughts would meet a swift and gruesome end.
They answered to One-Eye, and every one of them had witnessed his ruthless cruelty firsthand.
Just then, an unfamiliar voice drifted from behind them.
"Have you ever thought about living a different kind of life?"
"A different kind of life?" Lite turned around. A man dressed similarly to them was sitting on the rear truck bed, his back turned toward them.
He didn't recognize the fellow, though that was hardly unusual; people died in the tribe every day, and fresh meat joined just as often.
The crisp, articulate diction set his teeth on edge, making him suspect this was yet another "civilized man" the boss had plucked from the prisoners.
Yet the man paid no heed to his cold tone, continuing in a mild voice, "That's right. For instance... working at the docks, or hauling bricks on a construction site. Of course, if you possess a trade or skill, there are plenty more things you could do."
The moment the words left his mouth, both men on the hood burst into loud laughter.
"Quit kidding around, pal! Wouldn't that make us just like those docile sheep?"
"Sweat away a lifetime of savings, only to have someone clean you out in a single raid? I'd much rather be the guy holding the gun."
The man gave a faint smile. "Fair point."
That understated laugh sounded jarringly out of place against their unrestrained jeering.
Sensing something was deeply wrong, Lite furrowed his brow. His hand crept toward the rifle resting beside him, his vulture-like gaze locked onto the man's back. "Hey, what's your name?"
"Chu Guang."
Chu Guang...
What a familiar name.
Lite's brow knitted tightly, and then his pupils dilated in sudden horror. "Y-You're..."
Chu Guang hopped down from the truck bed, landing lightly on both feet. In an easy, conversational tone, he said, "I was just curious about what goes through your heads. Now my curiosity is satisfied."
Turning back to face the two men, who were now tense as if facing a mortal threat, he paused before adding, "How about you surrender on your own?"
"Dream on!"
Before Chu Guang could finish, Lite roared, brought up his pre-aimed barrel, and pulled the trigger without hesitation, unleashing a ferocious burst of automatic fire.
The fierce barrage packed enough firepower to tear through several millimeters of steel plating!
Yet to Chu Guang's eyes, each bullet drifted as slowly and feebly as a stuttering slideshow.
The entire world seemed to have ground to a crawl.
Taking a single sidestep, he effortlessly slipped past the searing streaks of lead.
Without breaking stride, he slipped a silver coin of the smallest denomination from his pocket and casually flicked it toward the shooter.
A piercing sonic boom shredded a cone of white vapor, shrieking past the sluggish bullets.
Lite never even registered what had happened. His vision blurred, sensation below his neck vanished entirely, and his field of view went spinning wildly into the air.
Beside him, Ruifu froze, his cybernetic eye bulging in sheer disbelief.
He had caught only a vague afterimage. Chu Guang had seemingly vanished from the spot, and in the next heartbeat, Lite's head went flying from his shoulders.
A bone-deep terror seized his heart. Ruifu stared at the man standing nearby, his legs trembling uncontrollably.
"...I... I surrender."
Finally buckling under absolute dread, he let go of the rifle leaning against the hood, dropped to his knees with both hands raised, and pleaded frantically, "Don't kill me... please..."
Chu Guang cast him a silent glance, then shifted his gaze to the decapitated corpse collapsed on the ground.
At that moment, a crisp, melodious voice chimed in his ear:
"As expected of Master! It seems your last level-up unlocked another incredible talent!"
"Nothing to do with talents," Chu Guang replied casually.
In truth, not only had he not triggered any talent, he hadn't even exerted forty percent of his strength.
Perhaps Heya was right. Even though he still carried twenty-three pairs of chromosomes, he was drifting further and further from what ordinary humans were.
Heavy footfalls approached from nearby. Clad in an exoskeleton, Lyu Bei strode over to Chu Guang's side carrying a severed head.
Staring at the bloody head, Ruifu finally made out the features.
It was his boss, One-Eye!
The instant he recognized that face, the breath froze in his throat.
"Enemy units have been neutralized. During the engagement, we captured a vehicle-mounted anti-air missile launcher and several portable anti-tank rocket launchers."
"Despite our warnings, the enemy leader refused to surrender and attempted to put up a stubborn resistance. He has been eliminated."
As he spoke, Lyu Bei set the severed head onto the truck bed and rested his right fist against his chest.
From beginning to end, the entire operation had taken less than three minutes.
Fairly satisfied with the Guards Corps' efficiency, Chu Guang nodded and issued terse orders: "Send the prisoners to the POW camp. Dispose of the corpses on the spot."
Lyu Bei snapped to attention and saluted. "Understood!"
Kneeling by the front bumper, Ruifu was terrified out of his wits, utterly unaware that he had wet his pants.
"Reflect on your actions and try to turn over a new leaf... assuming you still get the chance." Chu Guang gave him a passing look, left him with those words, and turned to walk away.
Watching the Alliance Administrator's departing back, Ruifu felt a turbulent mix of dread and utter confusion.
How could this man be here?!
Hadn't he gone north to inspect the forest regions?!
Just then, a dull rumble like rolling thunder drifted from the north.
The sound seemed to travel from an immense distance, while a faint, ethereal shimmer rippled across the horizon.
...What was that?
Ruifu froze.
A short distance away, Chu Guang paused in his tracks as well, looking toward the source of the blast.
"Looks like it's over."
Right behind him, Lyu Bei blinked in surprise, then smiled and nodded. "Yes... it's over."
...
With two flashing plumes of plasma streaking across the sky, a brilliant radiance finally descended over Yanshan City.
A deafening roar not only flattened the half-collapsed ruins below, but also shattered the clouds in the sky.
A blazing mushroom cloud soared from the ground, its expanding shockwave sweeping across the fleeing, hiding marauders with unstoppable force.
And those fortunate enough to survive fared no better.
Deadly gamma rays pierced effortlessly through the seemingly impenetrable concrete, leaving unseen yet fatal wounds upon their bodies.
Only anti-radiation injections could save their lives.
If they could account for how they had contracted radiation poisoning, they might even be able to purchase some at the clinic in Settlement No. 10.
Though that would be a story for later.
At this moment, Yanshan City was a landscape of pure devastation, horrific corpses scattered beneath the pulverized debris.
Less than one in ten marauders remained alive, and those few who did lay groveling beneath the radioactive fallout, howling in agony.
The routed troops fleeing toward Yanshan City ground to a halt in sheer despair.
Facing the pursuing Storm Corps, they could no longer muster a shred of will to fight. Tossing the equipment supplied by the Southern Legion onto the ground, they dropped to their knees with their hands raised in surrender.
Everything had ended.
Despair gripped not only the routed marauders, but also Wyatt, the officer in charge of Operation Guillotine.
Staring at the mushroom cloud rising in the exact opposite direction of what he had anticipated, his face turned the color of cold ash.
"No..."
He had no time to ponder how that nuclear weapon had gotten ahead of him.
The moment the mushroom cloud erupted into the heavens, a squad of exoskeleton-clad soldiers converged on his position.
Spotting the insignia and paint scheme of the Storm Corps, Wyatt's heart plummeted. Gritting his teeth, he drew his sidearm to take his own life, but before he could disengage the safety, an unseen hand clamped onto his arm, twisted both his arms behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the dirt.
"Fire, quickly—!" Panic-stricken, he opened his mouth to scream, only to have his face shoved down, filling his mouth with mud.
The optical camouflage quickly dissolved, revealing a figure straddling his back, pressing a pistol firmly against the base of his skull.
Caught completely off guard by the abrupt turn of events, the six Wilante bodyguards standing around froze, at an utter loss.
Fortunately, the man sitting on their commander's back gave them a helpful nudge:
"Drop your weapons and put your hands up, or I blow your boss's brains out."
Pinning down the thrashing, sputtering Wyatt with one hand, Catching Ghosts at Graves grinned from atop his back.
Staring down the barrels of numerous black muzzles, the six Wilante guards wisely lowered their weapons, joining their mud-choked superior in surrendering to the Storm Corps.
Meanwhile, dozens of kilometers away in Yanshan City, the shockwave unleashed by the nuclear strike had faded to silence.
Heaving aside the concrete slab pinning his chest, Wyatt's deputy, Og, endured the agony of fractured bones as he dragged himself out from beneath the rubble.
The sudden nuclear strike had utterly flattened their operational base...
The only blessing was that they had merely caught the outer edge of the blast.
Evidently, the Alliance hadn't known their exact coordinates; they had simply estimated a general area and flown the nuclear weapon right back to drop it on their heads.
Spotting a colleague struggling beneath the ruins nearby, a bitter grimace spread across Og's face. Limping over, he helped clear away the rubble burying the unfortunate survivor.
"How are you holding up?"
Helping the man lean against a crumbling wall, Og handed him an anti-radiation injector.
Taking it, the man plunged it straight into his thigh, drew a sharp breath, and gradually regained his composure.
"Cough... What the hell... happened?"
Looking out over the obliterated base, Og offered a hollow, bitter smile. "Don't know. Probably dropped a boulder on our own feet..."
Perhaps his superior had been right—they truly couldn't wait until they had a hundred percent certainty before taking action.
Yet his superior had never told him what to do if they lost the gamble...
Thinking back, their previous adversaries had always been civilian bureaucrats, pathetic failures like the Xilan Empire, or minor tribes that couldn't even match Xilan.
Against opponents like that, one truly never needed to worry about such messy complications.
And now, true to form, they were swallowing the bitter fruit of their recklessness.
Still, this was no time for regrets.
The Alliance would soon comb through these ruins, and they had to evacuate before the Alliance troops arrived.
Og pushed himself up from the ground and looked at his colleague. "Can you walk?"
His colleague grimaced, propping himself up against the wall as he struggled to stand. "Barely..."
Supporting one another, the two limped out from the ruins, finally emerging onto the boulder-strewn street.
And right then, they caught sight of the Viper transport parked in the middle of the road.
Og's chest tightened. The colleague leaning against him instinctively reached for the sidearm at his waist.
Looking at the two lone survivors, Commander Spring called out to them:
"Surrender. You've already lost."
Og fell silent for a long moment.
In the end, he placed a hand over his colleague's trembling fingers on the holster and shook his head at the bewildered man.
"It's over..."
...
Elsewhere, far away in the Great Rift Valley, an old man seated in an empty conference room gazed toward the south and let out a soft sigh.
"Another one..."
Indeed, the older one grew, the more dulled one's perception of time became.
The nuclear blast in Luoxia Province felt as though it had happened only yesterday, yet in the blink of an eye, another mushroom cloud was rising on the distant horizon.
Though he could not see it from where he sat, the gamma-ray detectors of the Great Rift Valley did not lie.
Across the long obsidian conference table sat another tall man.
Unlike the gray-haired elder, he appeared far younger, and his eyes held a sharper gleam of intellect.
"That line again. Tsk, tsk. Looks like your linguistic faculties really are deteriorating."
The elder cast him an irritated glance. "Your tongue is as venomous as ever."
The tall man chuckled, paying no mind to the complaint. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Yet could an unchanging, eternal existence truly be called life?
The elder held his reservations.
In his eyes, the old friend before him had died long ago.
However, rather than arguing over pointless topics as they usually did, he smoothly steered the conversation elsewhere.
"You seem to be in good spirits."
"Naturally," the tall man said with a smile, narrowing his eyes as he looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. "Our long-cherished wish is finally within reach. The spark of civilization will carry on through our hands... Thank heavens that after you all ruined everything, we still have a chance to start anew."
"The Alliance agreed to help you construct a starship?"
"Yes."
The elder nodded. "He is an open-minded young man... And what of your Science Committee? Will you take them with you, or leave them to fend for themselves in the Wandering Marsh?"
The elder spoke with a probing tone.
After all, knowing "Conclusion" as he did, the man never disclosed his plans.
Yet to the elder's surprise, Conclusion was unusually forthcoming, laying out his arrangements without hesitation.
"We will take the children who are worth saving. As for those we cannot bring along, I have arranged a path for them as well. I will entrust them, along with the Science Committee, to the Alliance."
Surprise flickered across the old man's face. "...Are you serious?"
Conclusion replied casually, "Barring any unforeseen developments, yes. If complications arise, that's another matter."
The old man remained silent for a long time before remarking with profound emotion, "Truly hard to believe... I recall a certain someone regarding the technology of the Era of Prosperity as the root of all turmoil, insisting that the unrestrained abuse of technology was what brought about nearly two centuries of the Wasteland Era."
Knowing that "certain someone" was none other than himself, the tall man chuckled softly. "My views haven't changed in the least; they remain exactly as they were. But I also said that our containment of technology was meant to ensure it would be applied in the right place... And now, we believe the time is ripe."
"Even if we bring forth the fruits of the Era of Prosperity and let the crystallized wisdom of our forebears see the light of day once more, their brilliant creations will not be used by corrupt scoundrels to oppress the descendants of the Human Alliance, nor to preserve the dominion of the Wasteland Era's vested interests over this land, nor for any other twisted ambition."
The old man nodded, seemingly in agreement with his reasoning, or perhaps only agreeing with a portion of his long speech.
Regardless, on one point at least, they had reached common ground.
"Perhaps. Perhaps you are right, and I hope you are right..."
He rose from his chair, walked past the obsidian conference table, and stopped before the floor-to-ceiling window.
It was not a true window, but an image projected onto the wall by a panoramic imaging system.
Yet the desolate wasteland outside was real.
And the survivors struggling upon that land were real as well.
"Certain problems must be resolved... They can no longer be delayed."
Seated at the conference table, the tall man set aside his customary mockery for once. Rising to his feet with solemn reverence, he gave a slight nod of respect to the former Chief of the Reconstruction Committee, now the Chief of the Great Rift Valley.
"A wise decision. We have waited far too long for this day, but fortunately, we have lived to see it come..."
As the final syllable faded, the pale blue particles of light before the conference table dissolved into nothingness.
A moment later, the door to the conference room opened, and an archivist clad in silver robes stepped inside.
"Mr. Chief, you called for me?"
The old man, his back to the archivist, nodded slowly.
"Draft a few letters for me, and then wipe down this table."
"After a century and a half, it's about time we made ourselves useful."
Chapter 920