Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: The Clan Rotation
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Regardless of the era, there have always been rulers and the ruled.
Though the forms change, even the mighty Seven Great Families have cunningly adapted to the shifting tides, seamlessly blending into each new society.
And the results have been spectacular. Even in today's hyper-diversified Lost City, people respect—and fear—the Seven Great Families.
This, a thousand years after the Age of Light and Roses came to a close.
How absurd is that?
It's not just a meme when a high-spec cyborg, fully replaced with cyber prosthetics, gulps down oil at the sight of a Family purist.
This isn't something to just chuckle at and move on from.
Even today, more than a dozen generations after shedding serfdom, it proves we still can't fully escape their shadow.
And that's all because of perceptions deeply rooted in society.
At the center of it all is the Clan Rotation.
Clan Rotation (家門會戰)
On the surface, it's just a festival every seven years where young purists aged 18 to 30 compete to test their mettle. But from a ruling ideology standpoint...
"...What the hell is this?"
Jin furrowed his brow.
His eyes fixed on the terminal in his left hand, while his right shoveled risotto into his mouth like mad. His cheeks puffed out like balloons.
He chewed his overstuffed mouth and gave a thumbs-up.
And the follow-up content?
The festival forcibly creates bonds between rulers and the ruled, it's a cowardly tool to legitimize the rulers' power and authority...
It was total chaos.
Only then did Jin notice the post's subtitle:
[The Horrific Truth Behind a Millennium of Brainwashing]
He'd searched for Clan Rotation and clicked in—why the hell was this here?
No reason left to read, he skimmed the rest and flipped the terminal face-down with a clack. Back to his meal.
Hold on a sec! That conspiracy theory post wasn't spouting total nonsense.
The Seven Families had indeed maintained their prestige by flexibly adapting to turbulent times rather than trying to control them.
But treating them like the Illuminati overlooked equally advanced powers like the city government and megacorps.
It was a shame how blatantly they'd omitted those.
This is why narrow-minded views can't win sympathy.
Jin mercilessly vaporized the topic from his mind.
His spoon naturally sped up.
After devouring his meal with relentless chomps for a while, he glanced out the window.
What caught his eye was a gray ridgeline piercing the clouds. A massive rotary evoking a vortex, swarmed by countless autonomous vehicles crisscrossing above it.
Jin's gaze lingered there.
It was an odd feeling.
What was it? If Downtown was a melting pot of joys and sorrows under neon signs, this place felt colder, more refined.
A landscape that would taste like blue steel if you licked it.
That was Jin's first impression of Area 20.
Ugh, and what's with that robot?
At the edge of his vision lumbered a bipedal machine thudding heavily with each step.
Stenciled on its thick armor plating: LCPD.
Robot cops patrolling around—fitting for a city government district.
No way you could commit crimes openly here.
So Jin thought as he pulled his gaze away.
Then back to inhaling food!
His voracious appetite stacked empty plates into a tower. At the counter, eyes bulging:
"Wh-what? How's it this much?"
"That's for what you ate. Want me to go over it?"
The staff spun the screen around. Only then did Jin realize food prices here were triple Downtown's.
But the taste wasn't three times better?
Dumbfounded by the shocking prices, Jin paid with trembling hands.
Then shuffled out of the shop.
Today, even Downtown—his cozy old warehouse—felt so nostalgic.
Jin let out a deep sigh without realizing it.
Guess that's why they say leaving home is tough.
It had been three days since departing for the Rotation.
Thinking back, nothing had been easy on the way here.
Unfamiliar roads were one thing, but entering inner Area 30 felt like passing through customs—they were so strict.
Lucky he was a Level 4 Solo with no priors. Otherwise, he might've been detained for days.
Finally in Area 30.
From there, it was days glued to the navigation.
Like a country bumpkin fresh in the big city: What's this place? What's that?
Comparing terminal maps to the scenery, stumbling along.
Why did his razor-sharp sense of direction in combat turn dumb only for finding paths? Damn.
Like that, no time to sightsee: light rail, AV, bus, train—now arrived in Area 20.
But still farther to go.
This year's Rotation was in Area 8, the Anarion Family's territory.
Wonder when he'd get there. At least from here, the 'District Transit Train' crossed the city core in one go.
"Where the hell's the station, shit."
Muttering to himself, Jin fiddled with his terminal and icons, walking on.
Rotary, intersection, cafe, right turn?
Right from here? Hang on...
Turn the terminal like this? Or this?
After fumbling forever, he finally boarded the train.
"Ughhh."
Moaning as he slumped into a seat. How much time passed like that?
His slimy, limp upper body slid off, knees shooting forward.
Problem was, they bumped someone else's knees.
Dozing with bobs, Jin startled.
"Tch—sorry."
Swallowing drool trickling from his mouth, fixing his posture.
"You look beat."
Someone across flashed a cheeky grin.
Jin looked: a guy with arms crossed. Neat overall, but a scar across his nose bridge stood out.
"You here for the Rotation too, bro?"
Jin blinked wide at the follow-up.
Wiping drool from his chin:
"That obvious?"
"First time I joined, I looked just like you. The trip's so damn far... Ah, no intro. Name's Raf."
The guy clapped his palm.
"Raf. You?"
"Jin."
"Nice and simple. Where you from?"
"Downtown."
"Downtown... Area 47?"
Raf's eyes widened in surprise.
"Seriously far out. No wonder you're wiped."
Not disdain for Area 40s, just shock at the distance.
Meanwhile, Jin, now awake:
"You?"
"Area 36, Reagan City. Been?"
"Uh..."
No, Jin started to say, then tilted his head.
Furrowing his brow, rummaging memories.
A flash hit him.
"Actavis Company?"
"Oh! Yeah. You know it?"
Know it? He'd scrapped Killgits there.
Vivid memory: rescuing Walter kidnapped by black mages, with Eanna and Eric.
Months ago already.
Jin opened his mouth, freshly amazed:
"Yeah, saw it on the news. Collapsed."
"Don't remind me. Total mess. Big incident with Styx and black mages tangled up. Rumor even says Solad Family fought 'em. Makes sense why that huge building melted from inside out."
Jin tossed in a casual agreement.
"Yeah, must've been hot as hell."
"Exactly. Oh yeah, big thing in Downtown recently, right? Some famous singer suddenly turned psychic."
Jin, who'd been at every scene, scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"Yeah, heard that."
Mumbled past it, changed topic:
"So you've done Rotation before?"
"Yep. Second time for me."
Raf flashed a V-sign with index and middle finger. Calluses thick on his knuckles.
"Whoa."
Traces of effort—Jin admired. Raf, thinking it was for his fingers, puffed his shoulders proudly.
"Ask if you don't know. Fate we met."
"Not sure what I don't know. Curiosity okay?"
"Sure, sure. Shoot."
"Any top picks for this Rotation?"
"Huh? Obvious, no? The heirs repping their Families."
Jin added to Raf's matter-of-fact reply:
"Among them."
"Among them..."
Raf stroked his chin thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers.
"One pick? Ryukard Anarion."
Nodding at his choice, Jin asked:
"Anarion's hosting this time. Home turf?"
"...Huh?"
Raf grimaced like he'd chewed bitter food.
Jin cocked his head.
What, no home advantage? Wanna hear about Korea's 2002 miracle run?
Reply came:
"Familiar turf might help performance, sure. But even if not Area 8, I'd still pick Ryukard."
"That good?"
"My take. Once-in-millennia talent, peerless swordsman. Epithets alone are romantic. Was a top pick seven years ago too. Too young to join then."
Jin input the info: tick-tick.
Ryukard Anarion.
Heir to sword Family.
Once-in-millennia, peerless?
...Hold up.
A kid living my dream life was here.
Jin's face soured involuntarily.
Grew up without hardship—prejudiced thought stabbed his gut, causing cramps.
Quick additions to mental profile:
Greenhouse flower (probs)
Short fuse (maybe)
Arrogant prick (def)
Snorted. Vowed: When we meet, I'll show this street rat what life's about.
Meanwhile, Raf continued:
"Kendrick Zahard is nuts too. Second rank before 20. Damn, Family's betting big. Hope of Zahard for a reason?"
"Ah?"
Jin, burning solo resolve, snapped alert like doused in cold water:
"...Cerebro. He's Zahard's hope?"
"You know less than you look. Fresh."
Raf smirked, continued:
"Heard Rokhan Zahard got excommunicated? Guy who should've been Family head vanished, so Manroe's delaying retirement to hold the fort."
"What?!"
Thunderstruck Jin's scalp.
Crack—like splitting stone, realization hit.
"R-Rokhan was heir to head?"
Familiar line flashed:
Anya was chosen as daughter.
I Am Your Father—.
Figured he held a big role, but Family head level? Jaw dropped at late truth.
"...Didn't know he was that big."
"Monster who won Rotation twice straight 20 years back. Gotta know."
Raf said. Jin just laughed in disbelief.
Train sped on.
Maglev gliding frictionless at insane speed—scenery whipped by as the two chatted, faces to glass.
Raf was a natural talker; Jin, easygoing type.
Soon hey you turned to hey bro, casual.
Chattering shared interests from afar watched someone.
"......"
Cold beauty with sharp nose.
She brushed long black hair past shoulders, flashed red smile.
"We meet again."
Her obsidian eyes stuck on Jin.