Shelter 3

Near Settlement No. 10, aboard the Academy's research vessel. A tall, thin man stood bathed in pale blue holographic light. Looking at the respectful Yang Kai, he asked in an instructive tone, "What did he choose?" Yang Kai reported truthfully, "It's not yet clear. He didn't give me a definitive answer... but as you can see, the space-based weapon is indeed moving toward the Western Hemisphere." It just had not deployed yet. Although the Academy did not possess access permissions for these weapons left behind by the Reconstruction Committee, it knew the coordinates of every single one. Tracking their positions was not a difficult task. Yet regretfully, the wisest and most learned minds on this planet held not a single one of those keys. Seeing that Dr. Conclusion remained silent for quite a while, Yang Kai continued respectfully, "If I may ask, what choice are you hoping he makes?" The man known as Dr. Conclusion gave a faint smile. "I don't have an optimal solution here. I only wish to see what he chooses." The even, flat cadence of his voice made it impossible to guess his true thoughts. Yang Kai gave a bitter smile. "It seems all we can do is wait and see." ... Cornered and desperate, the high command of the Southern Legion had staked their final hope of victory entirely on a biological weapon known as "Death Agent." The Alliance's orbital weapon was currently being repositioned toward the Avent City region, poised to resolve all their troubles once and for all. Battlefield Guy wasn't sure whether the Administrator was being serious, but if that guy actually pressed the button, all the effort he had poured in so far might truly go down the drain. And not just his efforts. It would also wipe out the efforts of other Alliance players, as well as everything Julius, Penny, Arman, and countless other Wilante had sacrificed to bring an end to the Wasteland Era. And that included the Administrator himself. In short, this sudden turn of events had completely upended Battlefield Guy's plans for his upcoming agenda. He had originally planned to wait until Marshal Julius's funeral concluded, and then collaborate with the civilian faction to launch a top-down reform of Triumph City—beginning with convening a citizens' assembly, selecting representatives from every trade and stratum of society, jointly deliberating a Wilante constitution, and developing a comprehensive body of laws on that foundation. Now, however, that matter clearly had to be put on the back burner. After soliciting advice from the goofy netizens on the forum and weighing the pros and cons repeatedly in his mind, Battlefield Guy finally turned to the only person he currently felt he could trust and who could actually help... In the conference hall of the Hall of Glory. After listening to the respected Archon's account, Praetorian Guard Commander Raizer's brows knitted slightly. "You're saying... the Wilante genetic source code has been stolen?" Battlefield Guy had thought he would be shocked by the details of Project Death Agent, but the old man's focus turned out to be on a bizarre detail. "That's right," Battlefield Guy nodded, his expression earnest. "The Wilante genetic source code is essential to the Southern Legion's plan. Only by securing this final piece of the puzzle can they ensure the plan's smooth execution—" "That's impossible." Before he could finish, Raizer interrupted him, speaking in an unquestionable tone. "No one can steal the Wilante genetic source code. And where did you get this information? Did the civilian faction tell you? Or that brat Salen?" Battlefield Guy's brow twitched violently. He had no idea where the old man got the confidence to be so certain the genetic source code couldn't be stolen. Yet that was precisely where the trouble lay: even though he knew what had happened, he couldn't reveal the source of his intelligence. After all, he couldn't very well tell the old guy that he had picked up a quest from the game system, could he? Could a system quest even be fake? Unless the trash dev was deliberately messing with him. "...I can't tell you the source of my information, but it is undeniably true." Battlefield Guy fixed his gaze on him, trying to sway this 172-year-old man with his sincerity. Even so, he knew full well in his heart that the odds of convincing Raizer with such a flimsy approach were vanishingly slim. After all, this was no ordinary accusation. No one would be swayed by a mere "trust me." Yet to Battlefield Guy's surprise, Raizer did not immediately dismiss his words. He simply stared into his eyes with those cloudy pupils. After a long silence, he suddenly tossed out a few words: "Come with me." With that, Raizer strode toward the exit of the conference hall. Taken aback by the swift, decisive movement, Battlefield Guy was momentarily stunned. He had no idea what the old man was up to, but he stood up and followed anyway. The two left the Hall of Glory and descended the thousand-plus marble steps one after the other, before arriving at a car waiting by the roadside. "Get in." Seeing Raizer enter the vehicle, Battlefield Guy hesitated for a moment, then pulled open the door and climbed in. He had assumed the old man intended to take him somewhere within the Hall of Glory, but by the looks of it, they were heading quite a distance away. Once the doors shut, the car's engine purred to life, carrying the two away from the Hall of Glory. Roughly twenty minutes later, by the time Battlefield Guy could actually see Triumph City's outer walls, the vehicle finally began to slow down. "We're here." Leaving those words behind, Raizer pushed open the door and stepped out briskly. Battlefield Guy followed him out and looked ahead. Before them was a military base, where two soldiers clad in power armor guarded the checkpoint. In all of Triumph City, there was only one place where even sentries on guard duty wore power armor. The moment he laid eyes on those two suits of "Dragoon" power armor, Battlefield Guy already guessed where they were. Upon spotting their commander and the Archon, the sentries on duty snapped to full attention, unlatched their helmet visors, and solemnly delivered a military salute. Raizer returned the salute with a brief gesture, then looked back at the astonished Pangolin and said, "This is Praetorian Headquarters, the base of the Praetorian Guard. I had originally planned to bring you here after Marshal Julius's funeral." "I know. I've passed by here before." Battlefield Atmosphere Group nodded, looking at him with evident perplexity, unable to understand why he had been brought here. To give him a tour of the Praetorian Guard? Now hardly seemed like the time for that. Raizer offered no explanation for their visit. He simply led him straight in, past a cluster of concrete buildings, and into the deepest recesses of the Praetorian Headquarters. A circular concrete structure stood in the center of an open plaza. Its thick walls lacked a single window, featuring only a narrow corridor stretching deep into its interior. Raizer led him forward through the entrance checkpoint and stepped into the elevator in the center of the ground-floor lobby, which bore the Legion's emblem. He then pressed a series of keys on a mechanical keypad. The elevator doors slid shut with a creak, and the cabin began descending at a steady speed. Looking at the bewildered Archon, Raizer spoke in a low voice: "...The concrete structure you saw outside is merely the 'front door' of this facility. Its real secret lies underground." Battlefield Atmosphere Group cleared his throat softly. "You know that's not what I'm curious about." "I know," Raizer nodded. "And I can assure you that all your questions will be answered very soon... We're here." After nearly a minute of descending, the elevator finally arrived at its destination. Battlefield Atmosphere Group couldn't help marveling internally. This facility was hidden so extraordinarily deep—it was practically like a shelter. Yet no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he saw a colossal, gear-shaped alloy blast door, bearing a massive numeral "3" emblazoned right at its center. "Shelter 3... This is a shelter?! Wait... There's actually a shelter beneath Triumph City?!" Shock was written all over Battlefield Atmosphere Group's face. Seeing the Archon's stunned look, Raizer smiled faintly and said, "I believe I told you once that long ago, back when Marshal Julius was still in his prime, I interacted with your kind quite often." Battlefield Atmosphere Group swallowed hard and nodded slowly. Turning his gaze toward the massive blast door before them, Raizer seemed lost in memory. Only after a long while did he continue: "That was a very long time ago, around the year I was born... When the residents of Shelter 3 learned of our plight and what had happened in the Wilante laboratories, they expressed outrage over the Post-War Reconstruction Committee's crimes against humanity and generously offered us their aid. "They were good people, and that period was a honeymoon between us and the shelter residents... which is to say, your people. "If we had relied solely on ourselves, without support from the Technical Department, it wouldn't have mattered even if we obtained the genetic source code from the Wilante laboratory. But once we received help from the shelter residents, all obstacles melted away. We finally achieved true freedom, and upon the land above our heads, we built the magnificent Triumph City." At this point, Raizer paused and shifted his gaze from the blast door to the dumbfounded Archon—or rather, "Pangolin." "The genetic source code is stored inside this shelter... In truth, I should have brought you here sooner, but various matters kept delaying it." With that, the old man walked up to the door and tapped several buttons on the control console beside the gear-shaped portal. Accompanied by an earthquake-like shudder, the colossal gear rolled slowly aside amidst rumbling thuds, revealing the passage leading into the shelter. "It takes more than a password; biometric authentication is required here as well... Follow me." Looking at the astonished Pangolin, Raizer smiled faintly and led him forward to a firmly shut alloy door, where he completed the final biometric scan. With a hiss of venting pressure, the sealed alloy door slid open, finally revealing the interior of the shelter before them. Battlefield Atmosphere Group was about to step inside when Raizer reached out and caught him by the shoulder. Battlefield Atmosphere Group looked back, meeting those cloudy eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. The gaze piercing from those pupils seemed to peer straight into his soul. "Register yours as well." "All right." Adopting a serious expression, Battlefield Atmosphere Group gave a solemn nod, then completed the biometric registration under Raizer's guidance. He knew what this signified. This old man, who had watched over the Wilante for over a century on Marshal Julius's behalf, was finally entrusting everything of the Wilante people to him. The two passed through the alloy door and pressed onward. Following the shelter's layout map around several bends, they soon arrived at a laboratory. This lab was vastly more spacious than those few "small chambers" in Shelter 404, and its facilities appeared far more comprehensive. Thinking back to the "classical-style" marble structures on the surface, Battlefield Guy couldn't help reflecting on the stark contrast. Above ground and underground were like two completely parallel worlds. Stopping before a cylindrical metal canister, Raizer turned to look at Pangolin, who was surveying the surroundings, and continued: "The Wilante source code is stored right here. Above ground, the Praetorian Guard stands watch; underground, the shelter's security systems remain active. You are a shelter resident yourself—even if you doubt the strength of our Praetorians, you should know full well the security level of a shelter." Pulling his gaze back from the nearby equipment, Battlefield Guy nodded solemnly. "No one can enter an activated shelter without authorization." Raizer nodded, picking up where he left off: "Not only that, every single access attempt leaves behind a timestamped biometric log, regardless of whether it succeeds. Therefore, I can tell you with absolute certainty that no one has stolen it, nor could anyone ever steal it." As he spoke, he tapped twice on the control panel beside the canister, launching the storage device's operating program. The pale blue holographic screen promptly displayed the historical logs of genetic source code retrievals, accompanied by the identities and timestamps marked alongside them. Battlefield Atmosphere Group hurried over to the old man's side and peered at the holographic display. According to the logged data, the last time data had been retrieved was over a century ago, and the intended purpose listed in the description was crystal clear: to produce clones with eightfold growth acceleration. Over a century ago... Back then, let alone Tyr, even the concept of the Southern Legion probably didn't exist. Battlefield Guy's Adam's apple bobbed. For a moment, his thoughts were in disarray. "Which means... it's impossible for the Southern Legion to have obtained the genetic source code." Raizer gave a slow nod. "I, on the other hand, would like to ask you: where did you get your information?" Faced with the old man's piercing gaze, Battlefield Guy fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly: "Do you trust me?" Raizer shook his head without hesitation. Not expecting the old man to express suspicion so bluntly, Battlefield Guy could barely keep his composure. Yet to his surprise, the old man then slowly nodded. "I don't trust you. A fellow of unknown origin suddenly claiming he wants to liberate the Wilante people and sever the chains binding them—it sounds like a complete scam. "However, I trust Marshal Julius. You are the person he was waiting for... You fit every single detail of his prophecy." Pausing, Raizer added slowly, "Furthermore, you are the choice of the Wilante people." Just like Marshal Julius. Although Marshal Julius had not been a Wilante, the man had unquestionably been the choice of every Wilante. If they had chosen wrong, then all that could be said was that this was the Wilante people's fate—even if he didn't want to accept it, he would have to. It was not only Marshal Julius who had grown old, but also himself, and indeed the entire Praetorian Guard. They were destined to be unable to accompany the Wilante people to the end of their journey. Feeling the accumulated weight and the solemn mission carried within those words, Battlefield Guy took a deep breath and confessed honestly: "You know I'm a shelter resident, but you probably don't know where I come from... To tell you the truth, I'm from Shelter 404." Raizer's pupils contracted sharply, but a moment later, he regained his composure. "And then?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group remained silent for a moment, then gritted his teeth and pressed on: "We can communicate through a form of telepathy... Consider it our secret. Just like your genetic source code, I hope you can keep this secret for me." In the end, he still concealed the existence of players and the other world. After all, that rule was written directly in the Player Handbook, and revealing it to Raizer served no purpose; it would only increase communication costs rather than reduce them. Besides, explaining things to NPCs in one's own way had always been permitted by the rules. This wasn't considered an "out-of-character" violation. Shelter 404 had never denied the various legends surrounding itself; there were simply many different versions of the tale. Hearing this, Raizer was silent for a while before rubbing the bridge of his nose with a wry smile. "Telepathy... I hope you're being serious." Having lived for 172 years, he could tell at a glance when someone was lying. Yet at this moment, he could clearly sense that this young Archon was telling the truth. Not just about the "telepathy." Even the part concerning "Death Agent" was genuine, at most concealing a few minor details... and those omissions were not out of malice, but compelled by pressure of some kind. Battlefield Guy kept his eyes fixed on Raizer, continuing: "Trust me, I'm telling the absolute truth! The reason I'm so certain about 'Death Agent' is that my comrades on the front lines in Brahma Province, at the southernmost tip of the Great Desert, have uncovered countless pieces of evidence proving its existence. Just as you can tell me with full certainty that the Wilante genetic source code is still here, I can tell you with equal certainty that everything I've said is real." Raizer sighed heavily. "Shelter 404... You're practically laying all your cards on the table, admitting you're an Alliance spy who successfully eliminated the Alliance's biggest rival." Battlefield Guy gave a dry cough. "Why are you pinning the Legion's collapse on me as well? You should know very well that had nothing to do with me." "I'm not. I was merely imagining what an ordinary Wilante citizen might think in my shoes." Raizer rubbed his temples with a headache before slowly speaking: "You don't need to convince me. Just think about how you'll convince the rest of the Wilante people once this is over. They are the ones you must answer to... I hope that when everything is finished, you will confess all of this to the citizens of Triumph City. Just as you said yourself, liberate the Wilante from lies." Meeting that meaningful gaze, Battlefield Guy nodded solemnly. "I will." Worst comes to worst, he'd just step down as Archon. In truth, he had never particularly wanted to be Archon in the first place; he had simply been thrust into the seat. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts and continued: "The question now is, what does the Southern Legion's high command actually want to do? I am certain Project Death Agent exists, and it's on the verge of execution. As I said, our intelligence operatives have ample evidence proving its existence, and they informed me through that... uh, telepathy." At this moment, Raizer no longer dwelled on "spies" or "telepathy," focusing his entire attention on the problem itself. It was just like over a century ago, when he fought side by side with Marshal Julius. "What they want to do is actually obvious..." Squinting slightly, the old man continued in a measured cadence, "Simply endure it through Wilante willpower." Battlefield Guy looked at him in shock. "You mean..." "The Wilante physique is superior to that of survivors from the Human Alliance era. Furthermore, we maintain far tighter control over every stratum of society... This is not merely because we carry the genes of the Legion, but because the Wilante are inherently a race that submits to the collective, submits to the 'alpha wolf.' When faced with a crisis, we are more united than any other people." That cold-blooded voice sounded as though it drifted out of a freezer, sending an involuntary chill down one's spine. At this moment, Raizer had fully stepped into the mindset of a ruthless, iron-blooded officer, where achieving final victory was his sole objective. Only in this way could he think from Tyr's perspective. "...Therefore, we don't need immunity to Death Agent at all. In fact, lacking immunity yields the best possible result. Fear of death will accelerate their flight, passively drawing them into our plan. And for those cowardly, civilized people, our shared status as victims will make it far harder for them to excise us from their society. "Our kin will carry it to every corner of the world, replacing our guns and cannons to conquer the remaining one-third of the world we have yet to subjugate. "As long as it truly possesses the terrifying lethality demonstrated in the laboratory, the ones who ultimately emerge victorious from this survival contest will inevitably be us... the Wilante." Battlefield Guy's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Scorched earth..." "Scorched earth? That's far too small-minded. Death Agent goes a step beyond that." Looking at the breathless Archon, Raizer cracked a meaningful grin and continued at a deliberate pace: "This is called natural selection." That was the battlefield the Wilante were best at. Tyr planned to gamble his odds of victory on Wilante survivability! "...Of course, no third party can know about this. We must use the 'genetic source code' as a smokescreen, leading the Wilante involved in the plan to believe that Death Agent is harmless to them—or at least non-lethal—and only effective against other races." Watching the stunned Pangolin, Raizer withdrew his chilling expression, returning to his usual gentle yet dignified demeanor. "From Tyr's perspective, this is likely how he would arrange things... Truly unbelievable. It's already the year 214 of the Wasteland Era, yet someone has still preserved their primal, savage animality so thoroughly." Snapping back to his senses, Battlefield Guy involuntarily caught his breath. Only after a good while did he speak slowly: "Were the Wilante always like this in the past?" Raizer answered without hesitation, "On the wasteland, there was indeed a time when one couldn't survive without being like that." Pausing, he added, "Yet I do not believe it is right. Clinging to life like beasts is nothing to be proud of. Wilante children will not reach a better future through the 'sacrifices' of their fathers. And if their fathers truly win, they will merely plunge into an era far worse than the Wasteland Era—into a vastly larger jungle to wage a final contest against mutants or whatever else, competing over who can be more beast-like, who can have fewer principles, and who can be more savage... "And will those who ultimately triumph suddenly find their conscience one day and turn back into human beings? I highly doubt it. Humans are creatures bound heavily by path dependency. Just like those Brahma people who survived because of General Lowell's whims—even today, their children are like crops growing from the red dirt. I imagine even Lowell himself wouldn't be proud of their groveling subservience." That lunatic... So all along, Tyr never even intended to make the Wilante immune to Death Agent?! Battlefield Atmosphere Group suddenly thought back to West Sail Port. It seemed to have been the exact same back then... Virtually identical! He clenched his fists involuntarily and looked earnestly at Raizer. "How can we stop Tyr?" He wanted to know if there was any alternative to resorting to the ultimate measure. Raizer looked at him, tossing the question right back. "How can we stop Tyr... You shouldn't be throwing that question to a 172-year-old man, respected Archon. "You are the one who must lead the Wilante people forward. The person who must make the decision is you, not me. "Between savagery and civilization, they chose you. I believe they must have seen in you a strength no lesser than the former. "So do not fear making a choice. You only need to remember... never let those savages living in the past see weakness or fear in your eyes, and above all, never let down the people who chose you."