Chapter 724: The Oath from Two Hundred Years Ago

Chapter 724: A Vow Made Two Hundred Years Ago

The furious voice echoed through the spacious cavern, stirring ripples even in the seawater lapping at the edges of the square.

The crew of the Glory, standing on the concrete floor, halted involuntarily, at a loss for what to do.

The atmosphere in the square grew tense.

Or rather, awkward.

Especially for the "outsiders" from Vault 404. Sesame Paste looked helplessly at Si Si, her tail, with nowhere to place its hands, already quietly playing with the fluffy chest fur.

Si Si glanced at the vault door, exchanged a look with Sesame Paste, who was seeking guidance, and shook her head.

"No terminal."

"Ah, well..."

Sesame Paste’s face also showed a troubled expression.

But it made sense, after all.

According to Captain Chen, this place was originally the engineering entrance to Vault 70, preserved as a backup entrance after construction was completed. It was even possible that the massive gear door had been installed last.

Since it was something like an escape passage, never used in normal times and not needing to be opened from the outside, the absence of a terminal connected to the vault’s security system was only natural.

"...Maybe it’s better to let them sort this out themselves," whispered the tail, which had tied two braids on Rourou’s belly, chiming in softly.

She was an Agility-type.

She had noticed as soon as she came ashore that the door had no place to enter a password.

"I think so too."

Si Si nodded, casting a meaningful glance into the distance. "If vault authority could solve everything, the problem wouldn’t have arisen in the first place."

She had once had the privilege of accessing vault authority, back in Vault 79.

That was why, unlike most players who had never touched that key, she understood it was no universal wish-granting machine; using it in the wrong context would only make things worse.

Perhaps for the same reason, the Administrator had entrusted that key to her—someone who had once used the "Administrator Authority Experience Card."

Facing the tightly sealed giant door, Dong Wen was silent for a moment, then sighed softly.

"...You’re right. We really don’t deserve your help."

The moment his words fell, a clamor of shouts burst from the broadcast.

"Don’t give us that fake repentance! You think we’d believe it?"

"Ingrates!"

"Get out of here and go back where you came from!"

"Go ahead and fight! Tear down that coral city if you want! We’ll come out when you’re all dead!"

"Don’t ever miss us later—we don’t deserve it, thanks!"

The crew lowered their heads, silently looking toward the Dolphin submarine, wanting to return, yet remembering that, strictly speaking, this submarine also belonged to Vault 70.

Listening to the relentless broadcast, Chen Jianhong walked to one side of the cavern, shining his flashlight and groping along the wall for a while.

After a moment, he seemed to find what he was looking for. He stopped his searching hand and shouted toward the noisy broadcast.

"Enough!"

The square fell silent.

The people in the broadcast room were clearly stunned, as if they hadn’t expected Captain Chen to turn on them.

"...I don’t mind if you want to make a spectacle of yourselves for our comrades from Vault 404, but please, look down at the jacket you’re wearing, and ask it: what did our fathers say when they entered the vault back then?"

The square seemed to sink into silence.

No one answered.

But Chen Jianhong hadn’t intended to wait for their reply anyway. He simply cleared his throat and read aloud, word by word, the dust-covered text carved into the wall.

"...Thank you for your trust and sacrifice. You are the greatest heroes of our civilization!"

"I will carry this day’s shame and your memories with gratitude, and continue to move forward."

"We will forever remember the suffering you endure now. I make this vow: your children will one day live in a beautiful new world! A new era more united than the Age of Prosperity, greater than any moment in our civilization’s history!"

"...Forgive us, we cannot take everyone. But this is the only choice, for all of us to have a bright and hopeful future."

"Is there an ancestor of yours here? Don’t rush, I’m not done yet. There’s a long list here..." Speaking loudly, Chen Jianhong continued along the wall, brushing away the dust with his hand. His gaze, fixed on the wall, suddenly paused.

A hint of complexity entered his eyes. He looked toward the vault door and read out the sentence he had just seen.

"From now on, your children are our children..."

The square was utterly silent.

Each sentence struck like a sharp knife, piercing the hearts of every resident in Vault 70.

Chen Jianhong was certain that more than just a dozen people were gathered in the broadcast room at that moment.

Cooped up in the vault for four months, with no bar, no news, only the meager entertainment facilities and unpalatable rations—they were just like him, long accustomed to life outside. It would be a miracle if they could stay inside forever!

Probably the entire thousand-odd residents of the vault were huddled around holographic screens, waiting to laugh at those "poor wretches."

After a long silence, a faint, uncertain cough came from the broadcast.

"...But no matter what, this is our vault. We have the right to decide how to use it."

"Our vault!"

Chen Jianhong repeated the phrase, staring at the rectangular gear door, then said slowly, word by word.

"Put your hand on your chest and tell me loudly: whose vault is this? Who built it?"

Silence spread across the square.

Only the resounding roar echoed.

Looking at the now-silent broadcast, Chen Jianhong spoke slowly.

"You all know. You just don’t want to think about it. That’s fine. I’m a member of Vault 70 too. Let me say it."

He pointed at the vault door, like a tour guide showing the people behind him.

"That alloy giant door—without a doubt, it was produced in a factory from the Age of Prosperity. I don’t know which factory forged this shield, but I’m certain someone cast it, someone polished it, someone mounted it on tracks, someone designed its lock and password... That was a vast and meticulous industrial chain. Countless similar components built our Age of Prosperity. Strictly speaking, it is the collective achievement of every participant in that chain."

"Not just this door!"

"There’s the driver who dug this cavern, the designer who planned the vault’s functional areas, the engineers who installed your reactors and light bulbs, even the miners piloting mining ships in outer space... And of course, the teachers who trained these talents, the doctors who treated them, the parents who raised them, and the countless citizens of the Commonwealth who contributed sweat, creativity, and taxes."

"Tell me—where are they now!"

Staring at the unresponsive door and the silent broadcast, Chen Jianhong took a deep breath, exhaling the stale air in his chest along with the words he had held back for so long.

"If you won’t say it, let me. They’re all dead, most of them—that’s obvious. The vault was designed for the Wasteland Era, but our planet never was. It was like a spacious, beautiful house—fine when it stood, able to hold anyone. But once the house collapsed, 99% of people were bound to die!"

"Some survived by luck, but their nightmare had just begun. Endless winter, mutated beasts born from infection and radiation, and the despair of a collapsed paradise. A few lived as humans; more were twisted into beasts by the environment... Maybe only 1% survived, maybe fewer. Who knows? Under those circumstances, it was impossible to count!"

"They endured in hell until the 50th year of the Wasteland Era—fifty whole years! Until they and their children lay in graves, until their grandchildren came of age. And only then did the nightmare begin to show signs of ending. But soon, new troubles followed."

Tapping his finger on the wall carved with words, Chen Jianhong’s tone carried a hint of sarcasm.

"So that's what happened out there. When did we open the doors? The 100th year of the Wasteland Era! The 50th anniversary of the completion of the Ring Island! Our ancestors promised that the children of those left outside would live in paradise, but in the end, we were the ones who moved into their paradise first."

"Did you think you were some kind of enlightened bringers of truth or colonizers from an alien planet?"

"Listening to our fathers tell stories of the Prosperity Era, making sweet dreams at night, shouting slogans to rebuild the Prosperity Era, yet you know best what you're thinking in your hearts! Rebuild the Prosperity Era? Haha, don't even think about lying to me! I am one of you too!"

"Those natives must look up to us as gods, right? Their jaws must drop when they see the omnipotent black box, right? They must fall to their knees in gratitude when they see the vault doors open, right? Just like how those poor wretches' great-great-great-great-grandparents knelt before the vault doors, begging your ancestors to open them just a crack, now they must kneel before the doors and thank us for finally opening them! Am I right?"

As he said this, his voice grew very soft, like a needle falling to the ground, using it to weave the dreams he had once dreamt.

"...Yes, we have the knowledge of the Prosperity Era, we have the machines of the Prosperity Era, and we have those black boxes designed to be used by baboons who don't know a single word, so much so that while those baboons are eating dirt, we can even add a cube of sugar to our black tea. In their eyes, aren't we exactly like gods? Should I use 'it' instead of 'them' to make this sound more like our true thoughts?"

"A dozen or so small islands have no future, and they can't rebuild Utopia at all, so we drove the survivors who fled from the shore to the sea back, letting them clear settlements on the shore. Later we found out there was a huge problem there, so we called the dead a minor setback on the correct path, and even blamed those natives for being afraid of death and deserving of their ancestors' failure to enter the vault, forcing us to bear the high cost of building houses for them under the sea."

"Now that they are disobedient and no longer grateful, we can't afford to play anymore, shouting like a crying child for them to get lost, that we won't play with them anymore, and that we'll come out when they're all dead, returning to build a Prosperity Era that belongs only to us."

"No wonder the vault has a maximum shelter duration limit... In my opinion, it's justifiable that they went mad, but you people hiding in that burrow are the ones who are truly insane!"

By the end of his speech, he seemed like a changed man, roaring almost hysterically.

For a long time, only the sound of that gentle panting and the echo of that roar remained in the plaza. And the previously boisterous broadcast could not utter a single word.

That was a fact that no amount of grievances could change. The vault was indeed not the sanctuary of one person or one group of people, but the sanctuary of human civilization.

After a long silence, Chen Jianhong slowly spoke again.

"I thought for a long time when I was in Dawn City, including just now on the submarine."

"I was thinking, if my ancestor really came back, it's hard to say whose naivety he would feel ashamed of."

At this moment, a dull voice came over the broadcast.

Seemingly to soothe his emotions, the voice was very soft.

"I understand your feelings, but... the things you speak of are too far away. Two centuries ago, we and those people outside might have been compatriots, but you must also understand that two hundred years have passed, and they and we might not be the same kind of people."

Not feeling any comfort from this sentence, Chen Jianhong instead laughed out loud.

"So the oath from 200 years ago doesn't count, which means the oath carved on this wall was a lie from the very beginning, right?"

A roar of shame turned into anger came over the broadcast.

"Chen Jianhong! Which side are you on anyway!"

"I'm on humanity's side! Where are you standing? The humanoids!"

Fearlessly responding with a roar of his own, Chen Jianhong pointed behind him.

"Just look at the guys you despise the most, that federation that looks like a joke to you! Built on lies, it couldn't even last 4 months, and without anyone even pushing it, it shattered into pieces on its own! What about you? Can a Prosperity Era rebuilt on a mouth full of lies last for 4 months? Don't say you haven't gone back yet, is there even a shred of hope that you can go back with a bunch of lunatics like you?"

"While you were playing the fool, what did the other vaults do?"

Without giving the broadcast a chance to speak, Chen Jianhong pointed to the side, pointing at the long-haired girl, and repeated that sentence with a deafening roar.

"...From the moment we stepped out of the vault, we were already prepared for our mission. Death is just a return for us! This is what she told me! This is what they told me with their actions! How do you think we got here? Did we wait for those mutants to drown themselves in the water and then secretly swim over?"

With the topic suddenly brought onto herself, Sisi was caught between tears and laughter for a moment, and never expected that guy to actually take the words she had said casually seriously.

But—

Although she had said that sentence casually, she had indeed not lied.

They were indeed prepared for their mission.

Especially when they checked the box next to "Whether to swear an oath under the flag of the Human Coalition..." on the reservation form, they had already clarified their identity, responsibilities, and obligations, as well as the punishments they would have to bear for violating various terms.

Death was indeed just a return for them as players, though they could return many times.

As a reward for heroism, their manager would even pay them a "salary"—through the special channel of the Silver Coin Exchange.

Yet no matter what the premise was, one thing was an indisputable fact.

The residents of Vault 404 did indeed charge ahead of everyone else without fear of sacrifice, always standing on the frontline whether in battle or exploration.

Even if most people didn't do these things out of noble motives, and there were even quite a few fun-seekers and behavioral artists mixed among them, no matter which moral standard was used, what they did undoubtedly deserved a noble evaluation.

At least as a whole, it did.

And it was precisely because of this that the wastelanders inspired by them were willing to become their followers.

Although the topic had shifted to her, Sisi felt it was better for her to quietly play the role of a background prop at this time, waiting for the NPC to finish the storyline.

Fortunately, the captain had no intention of throwing the conversation to her either, and his voice didn't even pause for a moment.

Presumably, he knew very well too.

This was an internal affair of Vault 70 itself, and shouldn't be interfered with by outsiders in the first place...

"...They brought the survivors together to unite, and what were we doing at that time? There were more and more leaks to fix on the ship, and finally when it couldn't be fixed anymore, our manager didn't know what to do either, and actually ran out to find the War Construction Committee that had been gone for a century and a half! Of course, we were stupider than him. We couldn't last for a few months without the weapons in the vault, preferring to return here and close the doors rather than face our own compatriots!"

Saying this, his eyes carried a trace of contempt.

"How useless. Didn't you blame Sun Yuechi for not opening the armory for you? Now we have brought the key, take it, go and bring out those weapons!"

"Use the guns and artillery built by the ancestors of those survivors outside to wipe out every single one of their children! If that little stock is enough! That could be considered sending them to paradise!"

"It doesn't matter if the people are all dead, go to the Bhairava Province to snatch some real slaves back, and let them build that whatever colony era for you! You don't need to build houses for them, just grant them a bite of food, and they can lick your toes with that disgusting tongue of theirs. If you're unhappy and frown, they can kill the guys you don't like the look of for you, even if they are their compatriots! Or even neighbors!"

Pausing, that contemptuous gaze gradually grew firm, and he stared unblinkingly at the motionless vault door.

"...As for me, I will stand with the people I believe are truly worthy of respect, and I will unite with the survivors outside. I believe my father would be deeply gratified and proud of my choice at this moment, instead of being like your fathers, carrying a lifetime of shame and regret, leaving a joke on this wall as an epitaph!"

Having finally spoken all his true thoughts, his mind cleared and he let out a long breath, turning around to walk toward the Dolphin.

Though it was a pity, he had to admit that there was no such union as he desired here; perhaps the Enlightenment Society was suitable for them.

In fact, the Alliance wasn't the most perfect union either.

They also had people they couldn't unite, and people they couldn't unite for the time being.

He still remembered the manager telling him that a person who only had ideals without looking beneath their feet was like charcoal burned to its hottest, blown into ash by a gust of wind. He would not ask his supporters to be that kind of person, and never required them to keep the slogan of rebuilding the Prosperity Era on their lips.

In Chen Jianhong's view, that sounded more like a modest statement, because what they did was already worthy of their oath.

They were walking ahead of those wastelanders every single moment!

And these guys...

Even including himself a few months ago, were simply cold and hard stones.

Maybe when they first came out, the good people among their ancestors had burned for their ideals too, just like the current residents of Vault 404.

But that kind of thing was truly too far away.

Even further away than the oath from two hundred years ago...

Just when he no longer held any hope of persuading these stubborn guys, the gear embedded in the wall suddenly let out a faint click.

Like a mechanical watch that hadn't been oiled for years, suddenly wound tight again.

"Rumble—"

Amidst a flurry of clattering impacts and a deafening roar, the giant gear rolling to one side slowly gave way to the passage behind it.

Chen Jianhong stopped his footsteps, looked back, and a look of surprise involuntarily surfaced on his face.

Around several hundred people stood at the entrance of that passage.

He couldn't see their expressions, but he could feel that every single pair of eyes was watching him.

His Adam's apple moved slightly, and Chen Jianhong suddenly felt a tremor surging from the depths of his soul, rising from the nape of his neck toward his eyes.

The stiff muscles of his face twitched faintly; to keep the uncontrollable expression from showing, he bared his teeth and let out a laugh toward the crowd.

"Are you here for the keys?"

"Don't be like that, Brother Chen..." Lin Nuo, standing at the door, sighed, his gaze drifting to the side, to the wall carved with words.

"We finally made up our minds, and that's all you have to say to us? Settling accounts would hurt our feelings too much. Of course, I'm not saying you're wrong—there's no right or wrong in this kind of thing anyway. In short... at least save us some face."

The person standing beside him wore the same expression; it seemed he had snatched the microphone earlier.

Clearing his throat again, that person spoke.

"Let's think about how to solve the problem at hand..."

Cleaning up the mess might be more troublesome than imagined.

But at least now they had like-minded allies.

He paused, glanced at Chen Jianhong, then at the residents of Shelter No. 404 standing not far away, and at the crew of the Glory who were hesitating whether to return to the submarine.

"In short..."

"Come in and talk."

...

In the sea near Coral City, on the jagged reef-covered seabed, scattered fragments of limbs and branches drifted.

Two enormous mechanical crabs lay on the rocks, one missing three legs, the other with only three left.

A crackling static hummed through the communication channel.

After a long silence, fragmented voices reached the ears of Prostrate Model Worker.

"...Model Worker."

The voice carried weariness, yet also a hint of lingering exhilaration.

Like after an intense, thrilling exercise.

No—

This was far more pleasurable than that.

As expected, the ones they had just wiped out were likely the aquatic mutants' elite.

At least seven or eight hundred elite monsters, levels twenty to thirty.

Though the cost was heavy, wasn't this exactly what they sought by following Brother Chicken?

Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne... and of course, long live the true Emperor!

If only the three-day wait could pass faster...

And even better if they could save before dying.

Finally reconnected, staring at the cracked observation window glass, Prostrate Model Worker shook his groggy head and replied.

"Ah... I just reconnected, I dropped earlier."

The other end of the communication channel was silent for a moment, then a mocking laugh came through.

"Damn... only an hour and you're already this wrecked?"

"Shut up." Prostrate Model Worker rolled his eyes and began inspecting the three remaining mechanical legs.

Out of nineteen "King Crabs," only two were left, and both were heavily damaged.

Staring at the remaining icons in the teammate list, Prostrate Model Worker held back for a while, then couldn't help cursing.

"This armor is way too crappy!"

"Cough... hahaha!"

"What the hell are you laughing at?"

"Blame the gear when you're the one who sucks... cough, but to be fair, this thing really isn't as good in the water as on land; the mobility is a real pain."

Unlike the aquatic mutants' preference for curved maneuvers, the "King Crab's" movements were mostly straight-line, causing water currents to scatter everywhere, not only giving away the attack direction but also wasting a lot of mechanical energy fighting water resistance.

In contrast, those elite mutants were far more agile underwater, darting around the rocks like fish.

Especially when they used underwater rifles, portable torpedo launchers, thermite bombs, and other weapons that could penetrate the "King Crab's" armor, the battle became exceptionally tricky.

Recalling the fierce fight earlier, Prostrate Model Worker sighed and said.

"...Yeah, the beach is the real battlefield for crabs; this thing should be good for beach landings."

Communication channel: "+1, adding a nitrogen shield or deflection shield would be even better... Ah, let's grind more scientific expedition missions when we get back."

A loss or two in battle meant nothing; three days later, they would only be stronger.

Facing the silent deep sea and the corpses floating around, the player in the cockpit suddenly thought of something and asked over the communication channel.

"So, what do we do now?"

Model Worker was stunned, also a bit confused.

"I don't know..."

Only the two of them were left in the squad; the remaining wreckage was worth salvaging, but there was no way they could do it alone.

The "King Crab" amphibious armor was just individual equipment, not capable of long-distance travel.

With these broken legs, running back to Fries Harbor would take until the game's official release.

Just as Model Worker was hesitating between going AFK or waiting for the Dolphin submarine to come pick them up, the sonar sensor on the King Crab's shell suddenly detected an unusual movement approaching from above.

The noise was faint.

If it weren't close enough, their sonar system might not have caught it.

Prostrate Model Worker quickly looked up, seeing a submarine slowly approaching from the north.

A swallowing sound came through the communication channel.

"Is that..."

Prostrate Model Worker said with difficulty.

"It's probably a Federation submarine... Stay still, and turn off all equipment!"

Earlier, on the Dolphin, they had picked up the broadcast from North Island.

As expected, the Northern Federation led by the Charas authorities had sided with the Torch, meaning this submarine might be here to support the mutants blockading the area.

Thinking this, Prostrate Model Worker's heart sank.

In just a few hours, these guys had already shaken off their initial chaos.

If they had hesitated even an hour longer at Fries Harbor, the ones intercepting the Dolphin now wouldn't be a group of mutants, but real attack-type fusion-powered submarines!

The two "King Crabs" lay motionless among the wreckage, entering silent mode.

The submarine clearly spotted them; a bright light shone directly down on their heads.

Prostrate Model Worker felt his heart pounding wildly, involuntarily holding his breath.

Fortunately, the huge thing floating not far above their heads didn't seem to think they were still alive; after a brief search, it gave up and moved on.

The enemy's sonar system was definitely still active; Fudi Laomo dared not start the engine, nor communicate with his teammate.

What he needed most now was to quietly stay put as a lookout, remain as long as possible, and relay the situation here via the official forum to Tail and the others, who might already be in Vault 70.

That submarine seemed to be on guard; it had barely turned on its searchlight for a moment before hastily switching it off, then changed course and headed west.

Just as Fudi Laomo was wondering what that thing was up to, a faint noise was suddenly picked up by his sonar sensors.

That ripple vanished almost in an instant, so fast it felt like an illusion!

In the dimness, Fudi Laomo looked up and seemed to catch a glimpse of a swift black shadow darting silently directly overhead.

Then, that shadow struck the side of the submarine dead-on, erupting into a blinding flash of fire!

“Boom——!”

The roar of the explosion came with a surging torrent of water, blasting him and his sole remaining teammate, who were lying on the seabed rocks hundreds of meters away, tumbling through the water.

A strangely beautiful fireball blazed fiercely in the deep sea; the water around the submarine seemed to boil, churning out dense clouds of bubbles.

The submarine, hit on its side, seemed to have a large hole; its inward-caved armor groaned in agony under the strain, and it lost power, rolling over and sinking downward.

Unwilling to accept defeat, it fired two torpedoes in quick succession into the pitch-black waters.

But judging by the blooming columns of fire and explosion, the two torpedoes had clearly hit nothing—they had merely slammed into a steep cliff face.

After barely stabilizing his tumbling craft, Fudi Laomo stared at the submarine that had crashed heavily onto the seabed, his eyes nearly bulging out.

“What the hell?!”

What the devil?

The boss had just spawned and got one-shotted?!

Even if the NPC hadn't stolen the kill, he hadn't figured out how to take down that kind of boss anyway...

...

“Beautiful!”

At the same time, in the command center of the Anle Island naval base, the tense and solemn atmosphere was shattered by a burst of hearty cheers.

Even Commander Li Minghui, who had been scowling all along, couldn't help but relax his furrowed brows.

It wasn't just the Northern Federation's fleet that shook off the chaos and entered combat readiness; the Anle Island fleet did the same.

Rather, compared to a tough guy like Charlas who only pretended to be strong, they were the real soldiers who knew how to fight.

Considering the Torch Church's interest in Coral City, they immediately judged that Torch Church vessels or mutants might take advantage of the Federation fleet's internal strife to sneak in, so they decisively dispatched the two attack submarines "Shark Tooth" and "Polar" stationed at Anle Island.

They didn't expect to see no mutants, but instead they hooked another big fish!

Not long after, they quickly received a communication signal from near Coral City.

“This is Shark Tooth... The Cold Night has sunk. We will maintain radio silence.”

Suppressing his excitement, Li Minghui clenched his fist on the command table and replied with a serious expression.

“...This is Command. We copy! Be careful of their destroyers, and remember your primary target—that battleship!”

The Northern Federation had only one nuclear submarine, the Cold Night!

Now the remaining three submarines were all in his hands!

Counting one cruiser and two destroyers, although their military strength was still vastly inferior to North Island's, they had at least clawed back some advantage.

Meanwhile, on the other side, at North Island of the Northern Federation, Charlas sat in the presidential palace. After hearing his subordinate's report, he cursed and threw his pen onto the sea chart.

“Fucking useless!”

The Cold Night was sunk!

The only nuclear submarine he had, and he lost it in its very first battle!

Though the advantage was still in his hands, this was clearly not a good omen.

Looking at his subordinate standing by, holding his breath, Charlas shouted loudly.

“Get the shipyard to start work immediately! Spare no expense—use every material you can get your hands on!”

The North Island shipyard had a number of unfinished projects, including a destroyer whose main framework was already completed.

If they hurried, they could have it out of port within two months.

As for raw materials...

Mining seabed deposits at this time would be difficult, but Haiya Province could help them with a portion.

Charlas picked up the ballpoint pen from the table again, propped his hands on the map, and pondered with a furrowed brow.

Perhaps...

He could consider leveraging North Island's industrial advantage to arm their allies—for instance, getting some decent equipment for those "fishermen."

This seemed far more practical than rushing to build a few destroyers.

Seeing the furious president and the still-drying blood on the table, the aide dared not utter a single word of dissent; trembling, he straightened his back and saluted.

“Yes, sir!”