Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Star Fall (11)
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"Yes, good work. See you later~"
Pssht!
The holy light illuminating the early morning darkness faded, and the image from the communication magic connected by the Radiant Church monk vanished.
"What do they say at headquarters?"
"Tch. They said we did well. Return to base."
"That's it? Don't they know how big a deal it is to capture a Chamber Maid? Surely the Church or the Lordric upper echelons aren't clueless about that?"
"They said it wasn't just found here—it's been discovered all over the world. So probably not. Their voice was exhausted, but you could tell they were thrilled."
It's 3 a.m. now.
When we arrived at the monk's location and asked to connect the communication right away, it was already late, so I figured we'd just pass a message to Senadis via whoever picked up.
But lo and behold. Just minutes after the holy relic started glowing and the attendant priest said to wait a moment, Senadis herself appeared. Looking like she might collapse from fatigue any second.
"For a bishop to be pulling an all-nighter at this hour. I can picture the state of Kingsland without even seeing it."
"Latura Ro Haram.... With hero parties from all over the world converging on one city, it's only natural that administrative personnel are swamped. Hero, you should hurry back too. When I left, I heard every high-end inn the kingdom could muster was already booked solid. If you delay, you might end up sleeping in some rundown tavern unfit for your status."
"Ugh, no thanks. Hero parties from around the world? I'd rather camp outside."
"Agreed. Crawling into the heart of that chaos sounds worse than pitching a tent by a clear stream on the city outskirts."
Otman nodded vigorously in agreement with the Professor's words.
What is a hero? At the core, a hero is someone who's achieved feats on the level of "saved a nation from crisis!" Legendary knights who beheaded a rampaging Solar Mage Tower master mid-challenge to the 8th hierarchy, Castle Knights who raced to the front lines at the first signs of the Orc Lord's great northern advance and held off the assault alone for three days to buy preparation time, Bards like Hameln who drove off the black rat swarms that suddenly ravaged the land and caused a great famine. Each one boasts star-like abilities, whether individual or group, and comes decked out with all sorts of honorary titles for saving their countries.
"Sixty percent of heroes are technically royal sons-in-law anyway. From a nation's perspective, they'd want to cling to any talent on a hero's level. The best way? Marry them into the royal family to bind them by blood. Imagine a single city crawling with ten, twenty sons-in-law from foreign kings. The nobles in diplomacy roles are probably invoking the gods' names while running themselves ragged right now."
"Wasting manpower on nonsense like that? This isn't some trivial matter—it's a demon god spawning."
"The Church is obviously scrambling, sending support troops. Second World.... Ahem! They lived through that Undead Wave seventy years ago. But nobles think differently, right? The Church is rampaging with 'Demon god! Non-cooperators will be excommunicated and treated as heretics!' so they send them along, but deep down? No way they're handing over their top strategic assets for free. Especially when it's [reinforcements to a foreign nation on the brink of collapse]—the ultimate card. Bet they claim it's selfless aid on the surface, but they've attached two or three diplomats to every hero party."
Knight commanders and strategy-savvy nobles are being ground down reorganizing the nukes delivered from around the world by their properties. Socialites and diplomacy experts are worn out managing foreign heroes' tempers and preventing brawls among them. Plus, amid all that, opportunists shoving their connections everywhere. Ugh, makes me want to puke.
So, the "golden" part of their triumphant return is ready, but the "return home" is burning.
The Professor hung the now-silent holy relic back around his neck, sighed deeply, and patted Borka's leg.
"Still got some stamina left?"
"Enough to carry one person."
"Then let's move."
"Right now?"
The Professor nodded at Aldrich's shocked face. Everyone looked dead tired, but they needed to reach the capital even one second sooner.
'About five days to the capital.... Already way late, but better hurry.'
Urged by the Professor, the party finally set off toward the capital. From Pellas outskirts to Kingsland. They'd cleared the path coming in, so no major threats. No reason for enemies who'd secured the western front to abandon it and loop back here.
Ding-!
[Warning: Abnormal logout detected. If you log out outside a safe zone, your character will move autonomously based on the game situation. Confirm logout?]
'....It'll be fine, right? Just retracing a path in an area with only Grade 9 Mutants?'
Eight days game time meant over 24 hours passed outside. The real world changes by the hour; can't stay glued here.
'Five days to Tobrun, a week to Kingsland. Set to auto just for travel and pop out!'
Suppressing his unease, the Professor firmly hit YES on the warning.
****
Clunk- Thud! Thud! Thud!
"Hm? What the—why won't this open all of a sudden....."
Thud! Thud!
"Oh, right."
He opened his eyes to find the access pod lid stuck, jammed by the tip of his forcibly crammed-in left hand.
"....No matter how I look at it, I can't get used to this."
Careful not to wreck the pod, the Professor extricated himself, then tentatively flexed his still-alien left arm.
Crack, crack!
"....Well, gotta adapt. No choice."
Someone had left an old-fashioned alarm clock on the worn sofa. 1 p.m.
"....Corduro!! Master is back!!"
First things first: eat, then think.
****
Lunch.
Instant ramen with five lettuce leaves.
'Dudul' brand, clear as day—ramen from Dome's marketplace.
Unlike old-school bag noodles, it's a premium treat sold in small thin wooden boxes: dried noodles separate, seasoning tub separate, dried veg tub separate. Comes in box units, minimum 20 servings per buy.
For a sudden "Feed me!" emergence, this was excessively lavish.
'....Is this guy's programming fundamentally broken?'
Staring at the ramen with steam rising temptingly from red broth, the Professor recalled Corduro's past 'Bucket List FLEX.'
"Aren't you blowing money too wildly? Sure, we made a haul this time, but who knows when the next one comes. Calculate based on future outflows, not current holdings."
"Whoa, no clue what you're talking about. Know how much I regretted that impulse buy that stranded you in the wasteland? I was trying to save, but Bex said kids need variety to grow strong. So I splurged. Just add an egg and it's a superfood, right? Shame Dome's in poultry management mode—no eggs available."
"Raising chickens? Hmm.... Profitable maybe. But Dome's got a massive food crisis, right? Embezzlement, hoarding.... Grain prices skyrocketing—won't balance out?"
"Rumor has it they hauled all the chicks Under Dome. Chickens eat animal feed fine, surprisingly. Earthworms, bugs."
"Animal feed...."
"It's just rumor.... Surely not that bad?"
Slurp!
Sucking in the plump, satisfying noodles, the Professor thought of the 'cheap meat' flooding the exchange lately. Quite a few people died near Dome recently.
"....No way. Just in case, skip eggs and chicken for now. President didn't seem the type, but outsourcing? Possible. How'd you hear Dome insider rumors anyway? They don't leak easy."
"Ian in Dome sent it. 'These bastards sell beer but not chicken! Hanging bait, right?'"
Pfft.
"Classic him."
Come to think of it, before logging in, he mentioned heading out to contract with Life & Murder. Must've dragged on; still not back.
"Bex? Where's Cynthia?"
At the Professor's question, Corduro pointed to the empty wheelchair and severed ropes.
"Out playing."
"What?"
"All healed, so no chair needed, he said. Ian tied her down before leaving, but the car sound hit, she snapped the ropes, and off they went with the lady. Said keeping her cooped up makes her passive; teach wasteland life, show her around."
"Isn't that.... too careless? Even for Bex, taking a barely recovered guy and Cynthia out? Type 2 variants still prowl near here."
"Nah, no worries. Situation changed. Bex said report when you log out—time after eating?"
"What happened? I've been in-game less than a day and a half."
"Better see for yourself."
Zzzt-
Corduro cleared the table, popped the drone's panel, and pulled up a screen. Numbers scrolling wildly....
"What's this?"
"Your balance."
"....What?"
Thought he misheard, dug at his ear.
"What?"
"Your balance. Account. Money pot!"
Hearing fine? Eyes then!
Rubbed them hard, checked the screen.
Balance: 304,237,650 sil
Click!
Balance: 304,257,690 sil
"....Glitch?"
Weird. Why so many digits? And climbing?
Two hundred mil? Okay, possible. Didn't expect President's espresso shot to be eight figures, but figured maybe. Three hundred? Suddenly?
As his jaw hung slack, Corduro chirped brightly.
"Dome's payment plus broadcast donations settled."
"Donations that huge?"
"Yup! Not much during stream—mostly while you were hospitalized. 'Get well,' 'thanks,' that stuff. Marketplace 25 mil, Life & Murder 40 mil for promo thanks. Plus big spenders."
"God.... Even so...."
"Time to face it. I said a month ago? Ranker! Money waterfall incoming. Won't starve even if you do nothing."
The Professor, who'd taken a big hit upfront, absentmindedly went to dry-wash his face but flinched, dropping his hand.
Rich. Overflowing cash. Three hundred mil buys pricey meat forever, ten top air purifiers running lifelong—still won't dent it.
"Hmm.... Don't freak yet."
"Why? More?"
"Something odd left. Probably from your skyrocketing rep lately...."
Rumble- Grriiind-
Then, through the window, the shelter's outer wall gate creaked open. Doors parting, motion-sensing turret popping out to target something. Rags for clothes, pockets bulging with junk—classic wastelander. New face.
"Ugh! That guy's back! Even posted 'STOP'!"
Clack!
"What? Know him?"
"Eh? Not really. Not enemy—lower the gun."
Corduro's words in hand, the Professor peeked out gun-ready. The startled visitor, facing the shelter, bowed deeply four or five times, then hastily shoved something from the gate pile inside and fled.
As the Professor stared puzzled, Corduro continued.
"Outsider showing up past few days. First time, parked outside, warned him. Approach and die. ID yourself. Kept lurking—fired warning shots."
"And?"
No answer; Corduro pulled up video instead.
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Pew-pew-pew!
[Final warning. This AI has kill authority on unauthorized intrud—Gahk!]
"D-don't shoot! Just here to pay respects!"
[Readjust.... attire. Indecent exposure counts as terrorism.]
"Unarmed! See? Nothing!"
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Zzzt!
Middle-aged woman reaching for sackcloth undies—screen cut.
"More? She proved it.... boldly."
"No need. At least confirmed unarmed. Why? 'Respects'?"
"Since then, drops scraps, junk bits at the gate. Two others too—saw some weird post? Strip naked, leave scrap piles, go."
"Ugh, headache...."
Got it. Unarmed, tribute, valuables.
"Protection money."
Bigger scavenger crews manage turf—called radars.
Rare near here with Dome, Raptor whales thrashing, but below Zone 42? Warring states-level turf wars. Main income: protection fees. They claim it's pay for bleeding against mutants to keep survivors safe—same as gang shakedowns.
Context fits the outsider's moves perfectly.
"So, wants to settle nearby, under our protection?"
"Something like. No biggie. Ian says he'll handle; focus on your arm, no needless worry."
"If he said that.... Just tell 'em no killing. They're desperate to live."
Outsiders have pros, cons. Pro: area safer from mutants. People settle, hustle for survival, clear mutants—density drops.
Con: People are dangerous.
Even harmless-looking could be scouts. Videos leaked. Folks seeing us wield endgame Dome gear? Some idiot thinking 'Kill 'em, take it—only three!' Guaranteed. Fat stacks mean rumors; shady types incoming soon.
Crack, crack.
Eyes shut, grinding knuckles, the Professor told Corduro.
"Corduro. No opening gates for non-shelter folk. Internal layout helps raiders big time. Who said open?"
"Cynthia. Hard to drive in—open for them, pull inside. Was sorting scraps too?"
"Bet she pocketed faves from the pile. No more. Tell Bex, Cynthia same when back. People deadlier than mutants. Bex'll manage, but he's slacking with Cynthia around."
"Why not tell them.... Logging back now?"
"Ian back, gotta stay out awhile. Stock pod with good nutrient powder now while free."
"Got it! Call if need more! Good luck~!"
Corduro zipped off. Probably clearing the gate 'offerings.'
"....Everyone busy—no slacking for me. Quick shower, dive in."
The Professor psyched himself up, entered the greenhouse shower, twisted the knob thoughtlessly.
Shhhh-
Then spent two hours extolling forgotten hot shower bliss, not emerging.
He entered the pod after dinner, post-scolding from beaming Cynthia and Bex about guzzling days of pumped water.
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