Chapter 201: On Survival (1)
Chapter 201: On Survival (1)
Slurp. Slurp.
Was there really no other way?
Even though he was an opponent I had been fighting just moments ago—someone who had put me through something bizarre—watching him get drained by Al’shel made a wave of pity wash over me.
Perhaps it was also because the one being drained looked so miserably fragile.
Not that I had any intention of stopping it, though.
I understood that this was the fastest way to extract information from a hostile target.
And more importantly...
I was curious about what that entity had seen inside me.
If Al’shel was absorbing all his memories and information, he would naturally find out as well.
Slurp. Slurp.
The disgusting sound filled the ancient Stone Dome.
By the time the heat from the battle had dissipated and the underground chill began to seep into my bones...
Pop.
With a sickening squelch of air, it stopped.
“…Tsk. This has become more complicated than I thought,” Al’shel clicked his tongue, his voice echoing.
“Why?”
“There are more beings dependent on this system than I anticipated.”
“Isn’t that obvious? Based on what you said, doesn’t practically everyone belong to it?”
I recalled him saying that one couldn't even earn enough to survive through normal labor.
“I don’t mean it in the sense of exploitation. Though, of course, there are plenty of races like that.”
Ptui.
Al’shel spat saliva… no, mucus, onto the ground and continued.
“I mean there are several races—including this one here—that simply cannot survive without doing so.”
Hmm?
“Explain in more detail.”
“It’s not that complex. They simply chose this path to survive.”
Al’shel let out a sadistic grin.
“Imagine a very delicately balanced scale. Whether they like this system or not, those standing upon it are destined for ruin the moment the scale tips in any direction. It’s only a matter of sooner or later. Their only choice is to fight a battle to restore the balance.”
That’s a strange and morbid metaphor...
“In short, are you saying the current situation is extremely precarious?”
“However, it’s not as catastrophically precarious as you might think, Lee Ha-ram. This state of affairs has persisted for a long time. At least several thousand years.”
“Why at least several thousand?”
“That is how long the man lying there has been settled here.”
Ah, I see.
Wait, that’s strange then.
“Did that guy migrate here with his entire race thousands of years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Then shouldn’t the balance of the scale have collapsed long ago?”
“That is the mysterious part of this scale. No one knows when its balance will truly break.”
As if excited by the topic, Al’shel reached out and traced a bizarre formula in the air.
“There are too many variables. No one can obtain all the information, and no one knows the true formula of this currency.”
A long graph appeared in the air, suddenly fluctuating wildly up and down.
“The administrators who knew it are either dead or gone. All that remains are those struggling to stay alive.”
With a wave of Al’shel’s hand, the chaotic graph stabilized.
“The moment someone new enters the Demon Train, the scale might tip. Or, it might remain steady.”
As Al’shel spoke calmly, the graph drew a flat, horizontal line.
“The problem arises there. Of course, since everyone is a refugee, they might welcome newcomers with a generous heart.”
The graph continued its parallel line.
“And then, at a moment no one predicts, the scale tips.”
The graph plummeted sharply toward the ground.
As if falling off a cliff.
“Income fluctuates wildly. Housing, food, and material costs become unpredictable. Some will survive, of course. But because some have vanished, the overall scale of profit shrinks. Those who cannot endure it repeat The Cycle of starving to death. An Avici Hell begins.”
The graph falling along the cliff didn't stop even as Al’shel explained; it continued to crash.
Toward the abyss.
“This is not a mere prediction. That man experienced it, and it has happened multiple times on the Demon Train.”
At those words, the graph that had been falling indefinitely finally leveled out.
Though the value it held was dozens of times lower than the original line.
“However, this doesn't happen to every race. It happens to those with mediocre power. Those without the currency to weather a Great Famine. Those without the strength to survive a Great War. It happens to people like them.”
Al’shel waved his hand, and another line started from the original position.
It dropped sharply, but it hovered far above the first line that had appeared.
“On the contrary, those with power have little to complain about. They can endure it. It’s a great loss for them too, of course, but they don't have to worry about extinction.”
Whoosh.
With the sound of Al’shel’s arm cutting through the air, all the graphs, lines, and formulas vanished.
“Now, Lee Ha-ram. Let me ask you a question.”
Al’shel wore a bizarre smile, as if finding the situation amusing.
“Your own race, or a race wandering the Otherworld as refugees. Who is more important to you?”
* * *
There’s no right answer to that.
I wanted to say that.
But the words wouldn't leave my mouth.
If I were in the same situation with the rest of humanity, what would I have done?
Of course, if the opponent were weak, I would have solved it with force.
But that man I saw earlier...
Though he had grown old and frail, he was still an entity capable of stopping me.
Even with someone like that among them, they were still the "weak."
“Al’shel?”
I stopped agonizing for a moment and spoke.
“Yes?”
Al’shel had been working on something inside the Stone Dome, leaving me to my thoughts, but he answered immediately.
“That Old Man who’s fainted over there.”
Right, he wasn't dead.
He was still breathing... though he likely suffered some mental trauma.
I suppose a life that has lasted thousands of years doesn't end so easily.
“How strong is he by the standards of the Demon Train?”
If beings like him were crawling all over the place, even I would be in danger.
Two: It would be difficult, but I could win.
Three: It would be a close call.
Four: I would definitely lose without using my Ultimate Technique.
“As I mentioned before, I don’t have the authority to access all the data, but… well, he qualifies as a 'Strong One.' There are probably two of his caliber per race at most. Some races might not have any at all.”
Hmm.
I looked up at that.
As expected, doing this alone would be difficult.
It wasn't that the man was weak.
The reason they were the "weak" was that they couldn't achieve anything alone.
In other words, even if I brought humanity here, if the number of humans themselves was small, there would be no way forward.
Furthermore, our basic physical bodies were weaker than theirs.
For now, since I was here, we would occupy a stronger position than these people.
But did that even matter?
I wasn't doing this just so I could live alone.
I was doing this so everyone could live.
In the end, the choice converges into one.
We save our own.
And we cut off those who are not us.
In a narrow sense, "us" means the same race.
In a broad sense, "us" means the passengers of the Demon Train.
That is how the scale was created.
Then, what was Al’shel so gloomy about?
“Al’shel?”
I threw another question at him.
“Yes?”
Again, Al’shel gave a quick reply.
“I just thought of this, so I’m asking.”
“Ask anything.”
Right. Why hadn't I asked this from the beginning?
“What exactly is your grievance?”
“My grievance?”
“The situation on the Demon Train. Of course, I’m angry that the Test is a mess, but these people had their reasons. And it doesn't seem like the Demon Train runs on pure malice, like you said.”
Yes. I, too, would have arrived at the same choice as them in the same situation.
It was an inevitable choice that arose as long as this Ark existed.
“Hmm. First, there is the matter of the Test becoming such a disaster.”
Crunch.
It didn't seem like a difficult question for Al’shel. He tore off a corner of The Wall and continued speaking.
“The current Test is simply a test designed to kill. You might be surprised to hear this, Lee Ha-ram, but in the Tests we created, as I mentioned before, the average survival rate was 90%. Even for fragile Earthlings with no abilities and below-average stats, the survival rate would have been 70%.”
Al’shel said that, but...
I wasn't sure if that was actually high.
Doesn't that mean only 4.2 billion out of 6 billion survive? I get the intent, but... as expected, octopuses are octopuses.
“If you take in that many people, wouldn't the balance collapse immediately?”
“Surprisingly, according to our initial calculations, it wouldn't have.”
Creak, snap.
Al’shel seemed to be trying to pull a massive metal wire out of The Wall, straining strangely as he continued.
“To begin with, the Demon Train can fit thousands of Earths within its space. Since there’s no useless land like a planetary core, the residential area is much larger.”
Al’shel began crawling into The Hole created by pulling out the metal wire.
His voice echoed, making it sound strange, but it was still within the range of being intelligible.
“And despite how it looks, various Type S of production are possible. It absorbs diverse inorganic and organic matter from discarded, useless worlds. If it functioned according to design, production should have been running smoothly, and materials should have been supplied stably.”
He must have crawled deep into The Hole, as his voice became as faint as a mosquito's buzz, yet it strangely pierced my ears.
Perhaps it was because I was listening intently, sensing that Al’shel was reaching his conclusion.
Regardless, I kept my ears sharp to catch his next words, but...
“And… ah… wait a moment.”
Al’shel, who had been speaking from inside The Hole, suddenly stopped and started rustling around as if something had happened.
Beep. Flash. Flash. Crackle. Zap.
Several strange noises that shouldn't be heard from inside a hole rang out.
After about twenty seconds of light flashing out as well...
“Cough, cough. Dammit. I knew I shouldn't have tried magic in such a cramped space.”
A soot-blackened Al’shel crawled out of The Hole.
“…What are you doing?”
“Ah, I expected there to be some kind of electronic data storage device, so I went to raid it. Well, there was a bit of a problem and an explosion occurred, but I managed to swipe all the data.”
…I see.
“Then continue what you were saying.”
“Hmm? Are you interested?”
“Isn’t that obvious? This is about how you want to change this Demon Train.”
I should have listened to this from the start.
I had been so caught up in Al’shel’s politeness that I hadn't listened properly.
Where was the guarantee that he wouldn't make this Demon Train even worse?
“Hmm… let’s see. Where was I? Ah, right.”
After striking a bizarre pose, Al’shel seemed to remember and spoke.
“In short, currency was never originally intended to be an asset to be hoarded. It was a reward for the producers who created what was needed for the combatants to survive and for society to be maintained.”
Thump. Thump.
As he explained, Al’shel brushed off the soot.
Even though the soot fell away, his skin remained black.
“In other words, it was meant to be a hand-to-mouth existence. You could live a bit more luxuriously or have a small safety net, but that was it. However, that structure collapsed. The ones who originally created this structure all died or left, and those who noticed the flaws in The System began to emerge.”
Al’shel’s voice trembled slightly at the words "those who left," but it wasn't particularly important information.
“Currency became concentrated, and The System, lacking an administrator, couldn't catch the flaws, causing overall prices to skyrocket. As life became harder, production was the first to collapse. With the producers gone, a society where only might remained began to fall into ruin. I don’t know which race first monopolized the currency, but they probably didn't expect this outcome either.”
‘They probably just wanted to do business.’
With a bitter smile, Al’shel looked at me for the first time and spoke.
“In short, I want to restore The Society of this Demon Train. Not just the Test, but to make it a place where each race can maintain its own world and culture.”
“…The role of an Ark?”
“Well, it would be nice if they also improved their skills by fighting each other occasionally. Why live so peacefully in such a precarious cold war?”
I’ll pretend I didn't hear that last part, you damn sadistic octopus.