Chapter 817: Chain Reaction

Chapter 817 Chain Reaction

“…All the suffering survivors on the wasteland are comrades on the same front. Though we haven’t yet fought side by side, I believe that you, with your kind heart, will surely not refuse to become friends with the people of the Brahmin Province.”

Zayid’s mind raced.

Though he still hadn’t fully recovered from that chaotic crash, he instinctively lowered his posture, scrambling awkwardly to salvage some goodwill from this young lady.

“My name is Zayid… Honorable Miss Elisa, I’m truly sorry to intrude on you like this in such a manner.”

Glib humor might ease embarrassment, but it clearly wasn’t winning him any favor.

Still, seeing that he had voluntarily offered his name, Elisa relaxed her furrowed brow and softened her tone.

“Elisa. A pleasure to meet you… And you?”

Not expecting the noble young lady to turn her gaze toward him, Sava, standing behind Zayid, dared not look into those beautiful eyes and stammered,

“I… Sava.”

Seeing the lad’s pathetic demeanor, Zayid sighed and glanced apologetically at Elisa.

“Sorry, he’s… my student, and also my assistant. Capable enough, but a bit shy with strangers.”

“I’m sorry!” Sava quickly bowed in apology.

Watching this clumsy young man, Elisa suddenly thought of herself a year ago and couldn’t help but smile gently. Her tone was warm as she said,

“There’s no need to apologize for such things. No one is born able to stand on their own. A… friend of mine used to cry at every difficulty, but now she can calmly think of solutions. I believe you can too. After all, the road you’ve traveled is far longer than hers.”

She didn’t know how far the Brahmin Province was, but it must be much farther than the distance between Boulder City and Dawn City.

“Thank you…”

That voice was like a spring breeze brushing past his face. The boy lowered his head even further, staring fixedly at his toes, a blush crawling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

What a kind-hearted girl!

No one had ever encouraged him like this, not even his closest family.

Though he had no doubt about Mr. Zayid’s correctness, he couldn’t help but feel confused… Had this man, who had always helped and taught him, misunderstood something?

Her gaze shifting to Zayid’s face, Elisa continued in a slightly more serious tone.

“Mr. Zayid, I’m not a petty person. If you sincerely feel sorry, just tell me directly. Please don’t use the survivors of the Brahmin Province as a shield. We are certainly happy to be friends with them, but you cannot speak for them.”

“Indeed… that was inconsiderate of me.” Zayid admitted his fault frankly and openly.

Perhaps his reasoning had indeed been flawed.

This woman, who quibbled over trivial matters, didn’t seem the type to be particularly scheming. Instead, she struck him as a bit… naive?

If it were because she looked down on his resources, that would be one thing, but clearly that wasn’t the reason. It felt more like she was throwing a childish tantrum.

Was it really so important whether he lied about such a harmless issue? The outcome hadn’t caused any real harm.

Not to mention that he had smoothed things over in the end without offending her. Anyone with a modicum of political tact would have just laughed it off.

And if he had ultimately won, this might even have become a charming anecdote.

Still, he didn’t think his analysis was flawed—only that he lacked information.

Investigating someone in Dawn City was extremely difficult, especially for someone like him, still in the startup phase. He had no loyal guards, not even diplomatic immunity, and had to be careful not to break the Alliance’s laws.

Elisa nodded slightly and exchanged a few quiet words with the stern-faced staff member beside her.

“I really haven’t seen them before, but they don’t seem like bad people. There might just be some misunderstanding.”

The staff member still looked uneasy and asked seriously,

“Are you sure you don’t need me to call security?”

Elisa laughed helplessly.

“No, no. Don’t trouble others with such a small matter. I’ll handle it.”

The man’s expression gradually softened. He shot Zayid a warning glare, as if to say, “I’ve memorized your face,” before turning and walking back into the arena.

Watching him leave, Elisa turned back to Zayid.

“Let’s get down to business. What do you want from me? But… before that, I’d actually like to know where you heard my name.”

Zayid wore a genial smile, for he still needed something from this young lady.

“You underestimate your own fame. Your name is known to everyone in Boulder City, no less than that fictional Paul.”

Elisa replied politely,

“You flatter me. I’m not that remarkable.”

Zayid continued with a smile,

“No, I’m not flattering you at all. Rather… I admire you.”

Elisa’s polite expression remained unchanged, but her smile was still distant.

“Even if you praise me, there’s nothing to gain.”

“Your guard is too high. Every word I say is sincere…” Gazing into those intelligent eyes, Zayid put on an innocent look and sighed. “From the drunks in the beer hall to the newsboys delivering papers, to the teller behind the bank counter… everyone speaks highly of you.”

“They all praise your bravery and kindness, believing that you saved them from the worst outcome and made that nearly impossible miracle happen.”

“To be honest, I don’t believe in gods, but I can’t help wondering if you have divine protection. Anyone else in your place would hardly have come out unscathed.”

Hearing these impassioned words, Elisa began to believe a few of them.

He might indeed have some admiration for her, but it wasn’t for her character or what she took pride in.

It was for something else…

Like the shadows that accentuate the highlights in a sketch.

But if that were the case, the people of the Brahmin Province were truly pitiable.

It was likely a gambling den far larger than the old Boulder City, with stakes that might be astronomical numbers she had never heard of.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out on Elisa’s forehead.

Instinctively, she wanted to save those people, so she spoke without thinking.

“…Indeed, even thinking about that day now, I still feel afraid. But I don’t believe I was divinely protected, nor do I think I’m any kind of miracle.”

Unaware of what was going through her mind, Zayid coaxed her with a tone like soothing a child.

“If that’s not a miracle, then what is?”

Elisa answered without hesitation,

“The residents of Boulder City.”

Zayid was momentarily taken aback.

“The residents of Boulder City? Ah… of course, I don’t deny they were indispensable. Their courage and ideals were equally impressive—”

“The residents of Boulder City.”

Elisa repeated herself, her voice brooking no argument, tinged with a hint of hope, or rather, entreaty.

“Why do you think I’m the miracle… when it was they who sought light in the darkness, who never gave up even after the flame of hope was extinguished countless times? Every one of them you met before you found me was a miracle. Why do you think I am the miracle?”

Zaid was stunned for a moment.

Not because the girl before him had said something beyond her years, but because he could not fathom why her emotions were so agitated.

What is this…

Something so important?

The pleasantries he had offered were merely to win her favor, but now it seemed his flattery had once again landed on the wrong foot.

What does this person really want?

A flicker of irritation stirred in Zaid’s heart, though he did not let it show on his face.

As if sensing his impatience or resistance, Alisa fixed her gaze on his eyes and involuntarily quickened her pace.

“…Mr. Zaid, I must say it again: before the true tide, my life or death is utterly insignificant! Whether I died that night or not, wherever my corpse might hang, it will have no effect on the tomorrow of Boulder City. The sun will still rise, and then set at its appointed hour.”

“I am not the miracle you imagine. Those who spared me—they are the true miracle.”

“They could have let that flame burn unchecked, pinned all the wrongs on a young girl, and then stepped over our corpses to move into the inner city. They could have become the new masters of the casino, but they shut it down with their own hands… Every person who walked out of that casino is a miracle.”

What a naive notion…

No.

It should be called foolishness.

Zaid stared at her coldly, yet his spring-like smile remained unchanged.

In truth, she hadn’t entirely missed the mark; at least one point he agreed with, and it even made his eyes involuntarily light up.

If that flame were allowed to burn unchecked…

But then, many would likely die.

“Mr. Zaid?”

Hearing the concerned voice, Zaid snapped back to reality, then looked at Alisa with a smile.

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

Fear flickered in Alisa’s eyes; for a moment, she had glimpsed something terrifying in his gaze.

Swallowing again, she spoke hurriedly.

“If you wish to ask how to save the residents of the Boro Province, perhaps start by running a newspaper, letting the survivors raise their own voices…”

Zaid cleared his throat softly, cutting off her incessant chatter.

“I’m truly sorry… Though I find your theories very interesting, the sun is about to set. Perhaps we can talk properly when we meet next. By the way, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

Alisa paused, but then nodded lightly.

“What favor?”

“I’d like you to introduce me to the manager of the Alliance.”

“The… the manager?” Alisa stared at him blankly, unable to follow his leap of thought.

Zaid nodded, his eyes fixed on hers, and said earnestly,

“I need his help… or rather, we do.”

Meeting that fiery gaze, Alisa immediately understood his meaning, but fell silent.

Objectively speaking, the Alliance had indeed reduced the suffering of Boulder City’s survivors, but it was ultimately the survivors themselves who ended all this misery.

When you cannot be sure what lies beneath the mountain, haste does not always bring good results.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Please, go ahead.”

“When it’s all over… when the Wasteland Era ends, is there anything you want to do?”

As if afraid Zaid might misunderstand again, Alisa quickly added,

“I don’t mean wishes or anything like that—just simple things you want to do. Like riding a horse or painting… any hobby will do.”

“Those are the pastimes of nobles; I won’t be corrupted by such things,” Zaid said with a wry smile. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I only want to save the residents of the Boro Province, to let the light of equality shine on every inch of land along the Eternal River. Beyond that, I have no other thoughts.”

A trace of disappointment flickered in her eyes. Alisa’s lips moved, but in the end, a thousand words turned into a soft sigh.

“I know a very kind old man… He said that after he retires, he wants to build a small cabin by the lakeside, plant some flowers and grass, and go fishing.”

Zaid: “Who is he?”

“The designer of Mr. Fangming…”

Alisa suddenly lifted her head, her eyes more resolute than ever, and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I will absolutely, positively not introduce you to the manager… Please leave!”

Her refusal was anything but tactful.

If she had been uncertain before, now she was fully convinced: talking to this man was like casting pearls before swine.

This man, who constantly preached equality, despised his own words more than anyone.

He had planned everything, yet never planned where he himself would be in that new world.

In the end, he just wanted to be the god of the new world, to swap the casino’s sign and keep running the same game.

There would be no next meeting.

She would not speak another word to him, and she even regretted what she had just said—she should never have told him what the true miracle was.

This man was no comrade!

He might even be an enemy…

If he truly succeeded, he would immediately seal every drafty window in the entire casino!

Faced with that gradually chilling gaze, Zaid did not grow angry. He merely bowed slightly.

“It seems I have displeased you… I apologize.”

A pity, but there was nothing to be done.

The meeting ended on a sour note.

Having lost any reason to stay, Zaid turned and left without looking back, his young apprentice at his side.

On the way back, Sava looked at Mr. Zaid with utter confusion and finally couldn’t help voicing his doubt.

“I told you… we should have approached her more tactfully.”

“The result would be the same. If she were the one we’re looking for, we’d have reached the manager through her one way or another. But unfortunately, she isn’t, so this path is a dead end.”

As if to rationalize his miscalculation—or perhaps he truly believed it—Zaid paused and continued,

“Actually, this might not be a bad thing.”

“A bad thing?” Sava was completely baffled.

“Exactly.”

Zaid gave a slight nod, speaking on with indifference.

"At least, from that little test just now, I can confirm she does maintain correspondence with the Alliance's administrator... whatever form that exchange takes, on certain issues their views do intersect."

"We spent only an afternoon figuring out the administrator's preferences—as a trial run for an investment... this deal was quite worthwhile."

Sava said with some disappointment.

"But she won't help us anymore..."

He wasn't sure whether he regretted never seeing that beautiful young lady again, or truly regretted the fate of the Family Council.

Perhaps it was both.

Zaid smiled faintly.

"No matter. There are plenty of ways to meet that gentleman; the key is what happens after we do."

If he had initially harbored thoughts of currying favor with Alisa as a potential political ally, he abandoned that notion the moment he realized she was still essentially a child.

Alliances with the immature are troublesome; better to use her as a touchstone.

When next he met the Alliance's administrator, he would try to steer clear of all the pitfalls.

Just like he had taken the advice of the shelter residents and changed the Equality Society to the Family Council.

He could further refine his persona, say more of what that gentleman liked to hear...

"And what if she writes to the administrator?" Sava murmured.

If it were him, hearing other restless voices within the Family Council, he would unhesitatingly tell Mr. Zaid.

He felt that young lady, like himself, would likely do the same.

Zaid's expression stiffened slightly, but soon relaxed.

"Can't rule out that possibility... children do like to tattle, but I believe that gentleman won't take one side's word alone; he'll listen to both accounts."

And someone like him, of humble origins, precisely lacked connections.

"If she really does mention me in her letter to the administrator, I should thank her for the favor instead."

...

At the southernmost tip of the distant Central Continent's central axis, there lay a port called Eternal Night Harbor.

It sat at the southernmost corner of the Human Union's Southern Industrial Zone ruins, across the sea from the Antarctic Wasteland.

So remote was it that even the White Bear Knights, avid map explorers, had never been there.

In real-world terms, this port would be roughly where South Africa is, but at a higher latitude.

At the same time, it was probably the southernmost settlement in the entire wasteland.

When the Legion first set foot on this land, it was winter in the Southern Hemisphere, with short days and long nights.

Thus, the settlement was named Eternal Night Harbor by the Vlandian colonists.

Unlike the Eastern Legion, which occupied vast plains, the Southern Legion's territory was more fragmented—aside from a native peninsula, most of its lands were scattered along the coastlines of the Great Desert's Western and Southern Industrial Zone ruins.

Though the soil was barren and unfit for crops, it was rich in mineral deposits.

Due to these factors, the Southern Legion's style of conduct differed greatly from the Eastern Legion's.

Rather than military aristocrats with sprawling pastures and estates, they resembled late medieval colonists.

While they were no less ruthless in exploiting other ethnic groups, they did not shy away from using more subtle methods when it suited their interests.

For instance, bribing locals to rule over locals.

Allowing slaves to buy their freedom.

Or using debt slaves instead of contract slaves.

After all, they lacked the Eastern Legion's abundance of land to waste, so they had to put some thought into boosting colonial productivity.

It was precisely this style that drew them close to the Triumphal City's civil official faction.

Of course, stylistic similarity was only one aspect; at root, their interests were intertwined.

For example, the Southern Legion's various ports lay along the shipping route from the Boro Province to Triumphal City.

The civil officials' ships returning from Boro Province often carried not only the spices, tea, and sugar that Triumphal City craved, but also the slaves and livestock needed by the Southern Legion's colonies.

Compared to the wanderers and mutants living in the Great Desert, the survivors and livestock of Boro Province were far more docile and welcomed by the southern colonists.

Incidentally, on their return trips to Triumphal City, these ships would also bring colonial specialties—

Various ores, gemstones, gold, and so on.

Thus, Eternal Night Harbor's docks never lacked ships from Boro Province.

Especially ships from West Sail Harbor.

Recently, however, an unexpected situation had arisen...

The harbor of Eternal Night was packed with people. Crowds of travelers clutching suitcases gathered at the ticket office entrance, shouting and arguing at the top of their lungs.

December in Eternal Night Harbor was summer; the sea breeze carried a sweltering heat, and tempers were like powder kegs ready to explode.

A Vlandian traveler finally shoved his way to the counter, his fist clutching a ticket slamming hard onto the countertop, practically trying to stick his nose through the narrow window.

"Where's the ship? I bought a ticket to Triumphal City! Where's the ship?!"

"Please calm down, sir. Let me see which voyage you booked... I can help you with a refund."

The clerk reached for the ticket, but the traveler snatched it back.

Glaring furiously through the window, the Vlandian roared,

"I didn't say I wanted a damn refund! I want to go home!"

The clerk gave a wry smile, looking at him helplessly.

"I know... but there's nothing I can do. If the voyage you reserved isn't at the dock, it's likely been canceled. We'll compensate you for the ticket according to the contract—"

"What do you mean 'likely canceled'!" the Vlandian bellowed, incensed. "It's the end of the year! I only go back to Triumphal City once a year! Damn it, why does it have to happen right before the Birthday?!"

Sweat beaded on the clerk's forehead as he tried to calm the man and the crowd behind him.

"P-please calm down... I understand how you feel, sir, but there's nothing we can do. The carrier canceled the flight. Word is they went east to haul a batch of munitions—"

The traveler wasn't buying it; he rudely cut off the excuse.

"I bought a ticket for a passenger liner! A passenger liner! Do you take me for a fool?!"

The clerk sighed helplessly.

"I know... but I heard they offered too much. You're still lucky. Yesterday, a ship was about to dock, but as soon as they heard news from West Sail Harbor, they turned around and left the passengers on shore."

Vlandian traveler: "???"

Panini, standing in the crowd, heard the commotion up front, her face blank with shock.

She had arrived here a week ago by ship from West Sail Harbor, originally booked a connecting ticket today to return to Triumphal City, never expecting to hear such dreadful news.

Finally reaching the window, she glanced at her ticket and said dazedly,

"...So there are no ships?"

The staff member behind the window looked at her, his harried expression clearly indicating this was not the first time he had answered this question.

“It’s been gone since yesterday… You’re actually lucky, miss. I’ve heard of people who got on board only to be thrown off.”

Penny forced a wry smile.

“Then how am I supposed to get home?”

The staff member wore an equally awkward expression.

“I don’t know… but from my experience, you should wait a couple of days. Not all ships keep heading east—some turn back once they reach Eternal Night Port. There are also cargo ships; if the price is right, they don’t mind doubling as passenger vessels. We’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“…”

Penny now regretted only one thing: turning down Governor Huye’s kindness and not taking his direct ship to Triumph City, choosing instead to transfer at Eternal Night Port.

She never expected that after just three days of fun here, she wouldn’t be able to go back.

“What exactly happened?” she asked, her face full of worry.

The staff member sighed.

“Our information isn’t certain either. We only heard it’s something Bannott the Chiliarch did. He struck some unclear deal with the Eastern Legion, and now every ship on the entire route has rushed east, all scrambling to pick up easy money.”

He’d heard that some were after the expeditionary force’s equipment, while others dreamed of scavenging “trash” from the academies, corporations, or the Alliance that the front lines couldn’t use.

But he thought those people were dreaming.

And with so many rushing over frantically to grab what they could, whether they’d actually make any money was still uncertain.

Penny was dumbfounded. She never imagined the one keeping her from going home was her own father, far away serving as ambassador in Dawn City.

This was really…

Seeing the lady on the verge of tears, the staff member kindly offered a reminder.

“It’s already like this, and there’s nothing we can do. You’d better book a hotel at the port quickly… By nightfall, even if you have money, there might be nowhere to stay. My uncle runs a hotel near the port—would you like me to contact him?”

Penny shook her head.

“…No need. I have a place to stay.”

Her uncle was an officer in the Southern Legion, with the same rank as Mr. Pangolin—a chiliarch—serving as the defense commander at Eternal Night Port.

She had been staying at his house these past few days. She could impose on him for a few more days if needed.

But to keep her mother in Triumph City from worrying, she needed to go to the post office soon and send a telegram home.

The staff member sighed and said apologetically, “I see… Anyway, I’m very sorry. Please understand.”

What choice did she have but to understand?

Penny gave him a helpless look, nodded her thanks, then picked up her suitcase and left the ticket office. At the port, she hailed a rickshaw and asked the driver to take her to the post office.

Soon the marble building came into view.

She pulled out a shiny gold Dinar to pay, then carried her suitcase up the post office steps.

But just as she crossed through the doorway, she heard a few hurried exchanges brush past her.

“Is there a ship! I need the nearest ship heading east! As soon as possible!”

“A ship heading east? What are you dreaming about? There’s no ship left at this dock!”

“Damn it! Why does it have to be right now!”

Penny turned her head and saw a middle-aged man in a felt hat, slamming his fist hard against the marble pillar by the entrance.

The man beside him looked at his companion in shock and hurriedly asked, “What happened?”

The man’s expression was grim, his hoarse voice low and heavy.

Yet even so, Penny vaguely caught the words—

“West Sail Port! Over there… something huge has happened!”