Chapter 1062: Some Roads Are Doomed from the Start (2/4)

Chapter 1062: Some Roads Are Doomed from the Start (2/4)

“……”

House’s lips trembled, unable to speak, his face twisted in a look of pathetic desperation, as if he were about to wet himself.

How could he possibly have such a thing?

Though Boulder City had joined the Alliance, by then he had long since fled to Trash Town, and moving to Bragga to resume his old trade came much later.

Kakarot glanced stealthily at Grave Ghost beside him, lowering his voice to tease.

“Honestly, I don’t think this guy is pure evil, just not too bright—at least he kept his word and really isn’t one of ours.”

Grave Ghost smirked and shrugged.

“I don’t care. I’m just here for the fun.”

Watching House, who couldn’t get a word out, Spring Commander shrugged.

“Suit yourself. Impersonating an Alliance citizen isn’t a crime, but you’d better not cause trouble here.”

With that, he turned to the crowd behind House and raised his voice through the loudspeaker.

“Folks, I don’t care where you’re from or where you plan to go after this—at least while you’re here, follow the rules.”

“Evacuation planes will arrive, but not these ones in front of you. What you need to do is register your names and tent numbers, then wait patiently for your turn to leave.”

Since the war began, the Alliance had already evacuated most of its citizens active in the area; even if a few exceptions remained, there couldn’t be this many at once.

Spring Commander didn’t need to ask to know that most of the people gathered here were just trying to fish in troubled waters.

Trashing your own home and fleeing, leaving the mess for others—how could that be allowed?

The Alliance couldn’t take in so many people at once, nor could Utopia.

These people had to stay here, forced to shoulder the responsibilities they had abandoned.

Until the outside world was rich enough to give freely or accommodate them, they could only save themselves.

That was their only chance at redemption.

Hearing that these weren’t evacuation planes, the refugees gathered at the checkpoint scattered.

House tried to slip away too, but I’m the Blackest, grinning, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“How about I point you a way? When this war ends, take a boat from Silvermoon Bay to Golden Port, then follow the Eternal River west until you find a place called Celestial Capital… maybe your talents will be useful there.”

“While there’s still a place for you in this world, take the chance and scram.”

With a laugh, he patted House’s shoulder and let the terrified man go.

Elsewhere.

At the entrance of a tent in the living area, Viga, owner of Viga Trading, watched coldly as his fellow townsfolk dispersed in disappointment.

Many of them had once been residents of Boulder City. After the inner city collapsed, they moved here.

Though they rarely kept in touch normally, in times of great upheaval, they had no choice but to band together, however reluctantly.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have survived long enough to reach this safe zone or even make it this far.

But banding together was one thing; Viga had no respect for these useless failures.

Unlike these fools who were worthless outside the inner city, he could worm his way into high society—or at least the upper-middle class—anywhere he went.

Before the war, these wretches wouldn’t even have had a chance to see him.

If not for the fall of Sigma and Firestone Group’s top brass, this precious ecological park would have been his dog-walking ground, and these people wouldn’t even have had the chance to beg here.

But fortunes change—who could have predicted Firestone Group’s collapse?

He who once stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Far Wind Hotel, watching Boulder City rise and fall, was now the one being looked down upon.

Still, it was fine.

He hadn’t put all his eggs in one basket; he had savings in both Alliance and Utopian banks, ready as startup capital for his next venture.

Hardships were always temporary.

Once he got through today, he’d have another chance to rise again. Worst case, he’d just play it straight from now on.

“My dear Lord Hyde… your servant has failed you, unable to care for your wife and child. Forgive me. If your spirit lingers above, please don’t blame me…”

Viga, who had been sneering moments before, suddenly wore a look of pity.

What a shame.

He had completely turned Bonnie into his possession, body and soul, only to have to dispose of that perfect work of art.

No choice.

She knew too many things she shouldn’t, and those dark stains could hinder his quest for legal status.

After all, the Alliance opposed slavery and all inhuman atrocities.

Severe cases could even be labeled as raiders, even if what he did to that lady was nothing in old Bragga.

Regardless, he hated risk, so he gave her a quick end.

Though it was only quick in the outcome.

As Viga pondered his future plans and how to use his resources to seize the opportunity of Bragga’s reconstruction, Hyde’s youngest son, Kumit, approached him.

That little master who once hid behind his parents, throwing his weight around, now seemed much more sensible.

Given the debt of gratitude he owed Lord Hyde, Viga always addressed him as “my dear Master Kumit,” but never spoiled him, often suddenly turning and slapping him hard.

During those days of dependency, not only the clothes and belongings, but even the food he ate was leftovers from Viga’s son, Pirlo—Kumit’s former lackey.

Sometimes even Pirlo couldn’t stand it, secretly slipping him money and comforting him behind his father’s back.

As part of satisfying his twisted hobby, Viga didn’t dispose of Kumit like he had his mother.

First, he didn’t think the cowardly boy posed any threat; second, he never let the kid know about his misdeeds.

He was playing a long game, planning to raise this child into something as twisted as Lord Hyde, then reclaim what he had missed in his own childhood.

Seeing Viga’s face, Kumit instinctively felt fear, but unlike before, he didn’t run. Instead, he stared fixedly at the former’s forehead.

“Mr. Viga.”

Hearing the voice above, Viga forced a warm smile onto his impatient face, speaking gently.

“What is it, my dear Master Kumit? Do you have any instructions?”

Normally, if Kumit dared to make any request, no matter how humble, it would earn him a beating.

But this time, Kumit didn’t show much fear. He just looked at him with hollow eyes.

“Where is my mother? You said once we reached the safe zone, you’d take me to see her.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Viga’s face.

He had brushed off this question long ago—why wouldn’t the brat let it go?

With patrol guards nearby, he didn’t strike or curse, but said with a smile.

“Ah… you mean Mrs. Bonnie? I’ve sent her to Utopia. After all, as you can see, this settlement has suddenly become dangerous—very, very dangerous.”

Ah...

Poor Lord Hyde.

His son will never know what price his gentle mother paid to protect him.

But who can be blamed for this?

Was that boy some kind of saint?

Whatever foolishness that fool from the Melvin family did, the youngest son of the Hyde family did no less—and always found someone else to take the fall.

Even if I did something wrong, it was still a form of divine justice.

Looking at Uncle Vija, whose face was full of smiles, Kumit let out a single sentence from his parched lips.

"You're lying..."

Vija's smile froze on his face for an instant, but quickly returned to normal.

"How could I lie to you? You're the son of my dearest friend—I treat you like my own son—"

Kumit said nothing, just stood there with vacant eyes, dropping a holographic stylus to the ground.

Vija paused, frowning, unsure what was happening—until the pale blue cubic cone began to project obscene images and unbearable sounds.

A buzz.

Staring at the blood-stirring scenes and the face that should never have appeared there, Vija felt as if his head had exploded, frozen in shock on the spot.

The nearby refugees were all stunned too, confused by this suddenly playing little film.

Vija was the first to snap out of it.

And the moment he did, cold sweat burst from his forehead like a waterfall.

Especially when those pairs of bewildered eyes turned toward him, he felt as if he were standing stark naked in the middle of the street.

"Have you lost your mind?! She—she's your mother!"

Vija lunged forward frantically, not caring that his knees were stained with mud, using his fat belly to cover the holographic stylus and his own twisted, perverse desires—just as he had once pressed down on Lord Hyde's wife.

Kumit watched that face, twisted with rage, calmly. He felt neither fear nor despair, not even sorrow.

He simply reached into his pocket, and before all those stunned gazes, pulled out a pistol.

"Bang—!"

A blood-red hole appeared on Vija's forehead, and he collapsed in a pool of blood, stunned.

The whole world fell silent.

He had never imagined it.

That he, who had schemed so meticulously, would fall just before dawn—and die so shabbily.

No—!

How could he ever accept such an ending?!