Chapter 827: Punishment and Mediation (3/4)

Chapter 827: Punishment and Mediation (3/4)

"Actually, it doesn't matter to me... but if we really must debate this, what about the children of this settlement? Are they to blame for being blind, for not being born into a vault?"

Brother Wolf looked away in silence, not knowing how to answer.

"Alright, alright, stop talking nonsense. Why so much useless chatter? Let's just get on with the mission..." Far-Sighted Eagle sighed, bringing an end to the topic among his brothers before the discussion could turn into an argument.

Simple notions of good and evil are not equivalent to morality, and morality itself is divided into collective morality and individual morality.

The Alliance did not possess only Vault 404. Countless vault residents, and even people from the Ideal City and the Academy, traveled thousands of miles to join them. This was clearly not because they yearned for the Alliance's comfortable life, but because they believed the Alliance could bring an end to the wasteland.

If they betrayed their vows, even if they weren't stripped of everything and cast back to their original state, their best possible outcome would merely be a downsized version of "Cyber Shilan."

Therefore, he could understand Chu Guang's approach.

On this wasteland, aside from Shilan, almost every faction possessed its own bottom line and stance.

Even a place as microscopic as Horseman Town was no exception.

Thus, he felt that Brother Wolf was not entirely wrong. The Empire certainly deserved what had happened to it, but that word should not be used to describe its people.

At the very least, those survivors who had similarly suffered under the thugs' persecution were innocent.

And what he needed to do was to preserve this portion of the population as much as possible. This was also his understanding of the task assigned by the Manager.

Seeing Eagle interject, Brother Dog, who specialized in riding coattails, spoke up immediately.

"Your Human Alliance language is the best. I leave it to you."

Far-Sighted Eagle rolled his eyes.

"Nonsense. If I don't go, do you expect yourself to go?"

If this guy opened his mouth, he would probably stir up trouble out of nothing.

...

When Far-Sighted Eagle walked into the church, he found that Arman and his daughter had already departed.

Including the old nun.

At this moment, only one person remained in the church, and that was MacClane, who sat on a bench leafing through a newspaper.

Having enjoyed plenty of laughs at this guy's expense on the forums before, Eagle almost couldn't hold back a smile for a moment.

Fortunately, old Mac paid no attention.

Hearing the movement behind him, he shook the newspaper in his hands and said nonchalantly.

"A very interesting novel... it actually coincides perfectly with our thoughts."

Not expecting him to initiate a conversation about a novel, Eagle walked over and sat down beside him.

"In what aspect?"

MacClane smiled faintly and read aloud what he saw in the newspaper.

"...It was not Bohr who saved Boulder City, but the survivors of Boulder City who chose Bohr. The workers protected innocent children, the soldiers raised their gun barrels by an inch, they finally realized those were their compatriots, not enemies, and then they issued a joint declaration, turning their weapons toward the true enemy..."

"The Wilantes are the same. Created as slaves, we do not submit to fate and authority. We courageously broke free from our shackles... The Marshal told us more than once that it was not he who led us to victory, but our own struggles that won it."

Eagle could barely contain himself anymore.

"And then you turn around and enslave others?"

"Yes," MacClane admitted frankly and without hesitation, no trace of embarrassing shame visible on his face. "Didn't you create us precisely so that we would conquer something? We are merely fulfilling the mission written into our DNA."

Turning a page of the newspaper in his hands, MacClane continued in an indifferent tone.

"Besides, when those people have had enough, they will naturally strive for their own freedom... Isn't that how you won against me?"

Eagle cast a surprised glance at him, not expecting him to actually admit that the Alliance had won anyway.

Truly a rarity.

Although the East Expansion faction was not very well-regarded within the Legion, until now, not a single Wilante had admitted that they had lost that unjust and hasty war.

However, debating subjective matters like winning and losing was entirely meaningless. Both the affirmative and negative sides had plenty of arguments to quibble with, and the result would definitely be that neither could convince the other.

Not wanting to create unnecessary complications, Eagle coughed lightly and, bracing himself, said.

"General MacClane, let's talk about the matters concerning West Sail Port."

He had thought the proud general before him would refuse flatly, but he didn't expect to hear an unanticipated answer.

"Mm, let's talk. The current you indeed possess that qualification."

That unexpected reply caught Eagle somewhat off guard. The roundabout tactics he had originally prepared were completely useless now.

However, his mind worked fast, and he immediately switched his negotiating strategy.

"...Your kind of retaliation seems thorough, but to us, it looks more like a temper tantrum from a child."

MacClane did not care about his provocation and said indifferently.

"We do not care what others think of us."

Eagle did not give up and continued, "Then you should at least care about your own compatriots! Those who died."

MacClane corrected casually.

"The deceased Wilantes."

Eagle continued.

"They are exactly whom I am talking about! West Sail Port is the fruit of their painstaking efforts. For your respected Lord Marshal and other Wilantes who yearned for land under the sun, they crossed the vast ocean to build a new home in an unfamiliar territory... Of course, I don't like the phrasing of taking someone else's house, but this settlement built from nothing is indeed their achievement, isn't it?"

MacClane laughed softly.

"It doesn't matter. Once the blood here is drained completely, we will build a new West Sail Port."

Eagle swallowed hard and continued.

"Then what about them? Apart from the name West Sail Port, what trace of them will remain in this new settlement? In my view, what you are doing is no different from the Enlightenment Society! In the new West Sail Port, no one will remember those who died. Except for the crimson mud beneath your feet, no one will remember what happened here. In the future, no one will ever reflect on why things turned out this way, and then, on some future day, it will surely happen all over again!"

Hearing these words, MacClane's expression finally showed a reaction.

He put down the newspaper on his lap, pulled a cigar from his vest, clipped the tip, and put it in his mouth. Then, while striking a lighter, he said.

"Then you tell me, what should be done about this... Heh, I shall temporarily listen to the advice of the great philanthropist of the Alliance."

Seeing a slight turn of events, Eagle said immediately.

"That's easy... An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. You can put them on trial!"

Hearing this fantastical idea, MacClane couldn't help but sneer.

"We don't have that many judges."

Eagle shouted, bracing himself.

"Then hold public trials! Let them identify and accuse each other!"

He actually didn't want to suggest this idea, but there was no better way at the moment.

Wrongful executions would certainly happen.

But no matter how many were wrongly killed in the end, it was still better than killing every single one of them.

Upon hearing this idea, McLenn, cigar in mouth, froze for a moment, then burst into loud laughter.

He laughed for a full half minute before stopping, turned sideways to look at the Eagle, and said with a smirk.

“I’ll be blunt—it’s truly amusing to see you plead for these scum. As for me, I don’t think the others in this city are innocent. In our philosophy, silence is also a sin—the sin of mediocrity, and unforgivable at that.”

“Just turn a blind eye, let those thugs run wild, drive out the Verants, and then play the victim to reap the benefits while staying clean… Tsk, what gave them the illusion they could stay clean? Do we look like reasonable people to you?”

“We already gave them a chance. They could have died gloriously on the battlefield like heroes fighting for freedom, and we might have considered sparing their families. But instead, they chose to dig their own graves rather than pick up the guns they dropped, even hiding behind their families. We merely obliged them.”

At this point, McLenn paused and looked toward the front of the church.

“Still, I’m considering your proposal. For one, you have a point—someone needs to remember what happened here. For another… it sounds more entertaining than letting the Greys torture them.”

A smile spread across McLenn’s face, making him look like the devil himself.

“How about this: take each street as a unit. Everyone must point out ‘one’ person, and then the rest of the district decides whether that person deserves to die.”

“Let me think… We’ve already killed twenty thousand. Picking another ten thousand should be enough. No refunds for extras, and if we fall short, we’ll fill the quota in order. What do you think of these game rules? I’ve given them another chance, heh.”

Watching this man who casually decided the fate of tens of thousands, the Eagle took a deep breath.

“Then… shall we begin?”

Both sides had taken a step back from their positions—this was the best outcome.

He remembered there were still people digging pits in the suburbs, the youngest child no older than that Ruby girl. Those half-baked brats couldn’t possibly be murderers too.

If he delayed any longer, they might start filling them in.

At least… he had to save those children!

Watching this shelter dweller urging him on, McLenn suddenly found it amusing and laughed out loud.

“I’m actually curious—what’s in it for you to meddle in this mess?”

“Or let me rephrase: isn’t it fun to watch us destroy our own colony?”

Farseeing Eagle wanted to say it wasn’t fun at all, and that his mission would be ruined.

But then he remembered the player manual, so he changed his words.

“…Since we’ve already shouted the slogan ‘Survivors unite,’ we can’t very well turn around and say survivors from the Brahmo Province don’t count, or that we don’t give a damn whether survivors live or die.”

McLenn was taken aback, then burst into loud laughter.

The laughter echoed through the empty church like a hoarse bell.

“…Haha! Interesting. Is that what you call ‘benefit’?”

Farseeing Eagle gestured with his fingers as he explained.

“Of course. There are many kinds of benefits—it’s not just about making money or coloring maps…”

“Tsk.”

McLenn curled his lip and took the walkie-talkie from his shoulder.

“Ross, have your men stop. I’ve just thought of a better idea… Take those survivors to the port for assembly.”