Chapter 205
Chapter 205
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 205
Chapter Title: The March on City Hall
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The procession of protesters filled the streets, their voices echoing throughout the city.
People who had been completely clueless about the revolutionaries picked up the newspapers and pamphlets being handed out by the protesters, reading them intently, or stared closely at the protesters' picket signs and banners.
The thing they had feared had happened.
The city guards had blocked the road ahead of the procession.
There were about thirty guards, all in uniform, weapons holstered at their waists.
But Dain said to Sarcho,
"Just keep going. Chant the slogans and march on. Don't hesitate."
Sarcho raised his voice as loud as he could and did exactly as Dain instructed.
One of the guards shouted something, but Sarcho didn't even glance his way as he continued chanting the slogans.
The guards' voices were drowned out by the protesters', rendering them useless.
A few guards' hands drifted toward their waists, only to be restrained by the others.
Then, they slunk back, eyeing the protesters warily.
Sarcho could tell.
This was the voice of the city.
It wasn't just that the guards were intimidated by the protesters' numbers—they had realized this was an irresistible cry.
Even so, Sarcho couldn't fully relax.
The guards weren't a major threat.
Sarcho took a quick swig from his canteen to wet his throat and said to Dain,
"Comrade Dain, the guards couldn't stop us, but the military might."
"You know the nearest unit is still half a day's march away. They're not prepared like before."
"I know. But in half a day, they'll arrive."
Dain spoke anxiously.
"We need to change the plan."
The original plan had been simple.
They would gather the protesters they encountered along the way, march to the central square, make their presence known, and call it a day.
They planned to repeat such protests until they were caught, spreading awareness as much as possible among the city's citizens and drawing them into the revolutionary cause.
But now, the crowd of protesters far exceeded their expectations.
The entire city already knew about the revolutionaries.
Sarcho said,
"You mean something beyond just leading people to the city hall square?"
"Yes."
Sarcho hesitated.
"But how? We... never thought this far ahead."
Dain said,
"Maybe not you. There are two options."
"Two?"
Dain explained the first option.
It was straightforward, and Sarcho realized Dain had already suggested heading to the city hall square for this very reason.
With their numbers, they could pressure city hall sufficiently.
If the mayor appeared, Dain, leading the protesters, would negotiate directly with him.
The mayor would immediately address all the protesters' demands regarding egalitarianism and workers' rights—and also withdraw the military and promise no retaliation against the revolutionaries afterward.
Then Dain continued with the second option, and Sarcho said,
"...We'd better hope the first one works."
"Me too."
Sarcho resumed chanting the protesters' slogans, and the crowd headed toward the square in front of city hall.
Passing a fountain park blending classical elegance commissioned by nobles from the United Kingdom's artists with modern sophistication, they reached the city hall square.
As the protesters swarmed in, crude barricades had been hastily erected in front of city hall.
Excited protesters were already reaching for the barricades to storm inside, while one city hall employee poked his head out a window, screaming at the top of his lungs with a gun in hand. When protesters started hurling stones, he ducked back inside. Stones continued to pelt the windows, shattering them one by one.
Dain shouted to calm the protesters' fury.
"Listen up, comrades of the revolution!"
As Dain climbed atop the barricade and called out, the protesters turned their attention to her.
"We could rush city hall right now and force the mayor to give us the answers we want! But we won't do that."
It was an unexpected statement, and the protesters fell silent, straining to hear what came next.
"But that would be an answer forced out of him. That's their way—theirs. It's intimidation, violence. I'm not saying this just to sound noble... If we pry their mouths open with force, they'll use it as an excuse to backtrack later. Just like they've always deceived us. So they have to come out themselves—the mayor, their representative—and talk to us right here."
One protester shouted, "Right on!"
The crowd responded with agreement and applause.
Dain announced to the protesters—and to city hall—that they would wait until noon.
Afterward, Dain's other comrades took turns reading out the prepared list of demands, bellowing for the mayor to come out.
As Dain climbed down from the barricade, she said to Sarcho,
"This should buy us until noon—maybe even until sunset."
"...Will the mayor come down to talk?"
Dain gazed anxiously at city hall.
She knew he was inside, but he hadn't shown himself yet.
"I don't know. If he does, perfect."
"I hope so too. If not, we'll have to..."
Dain cut him off.
"There's still time, so no need to worry yet. Better to keep our comrades from getting tired before the mayor shows. Help me rally them?"
"Of course, comrade."
Dain started singing a workers' song commonly heard in the factories.
It was an old peasant song adapted to factory labor as times changed; lyrics varied slightly by region or factory, but the rhythm and beat were similar enough that the protesters quickly picked it up from one another.
Next, Dain called forward workers with grievances to share their stories on the makeshift platform. As they recounted their injustices and sufferings, the crowd wept for their comrades or cursed the nobles and capitalists on their behalf. Many tales ended in cheers of encouragement: "Don't give up!" "You can do it!" "I'm your comrade!"
City laborers baked bread and passed it around, while one noble swayed by the protesters opened his wine cellar. A few wild boars—today or never—were dragged across the square.
Dain had thought the protesters were just a spontaneous gathering, that some—or most—would scatter if things went south.
But as time passed, the crowd kept swelling bit by bit.
They had said they'd wait only until the sun rose high, but when Dain stepped up, they readily agreed to wait until sunset.
Sarcho thought, 'Maybe...'
Seeing such unity was a bit frightening, even for him.
It felt like one massive, living creature—uncontrollable if something went wrong.
'If even I feel that way as part of it, the mayor must too. He might be inside discussing with the councilors which demands to accept or reject. The world is about to change.'
The protesters sat, arm in arm with newly named comrades, singing workers' songs for the first time that day.
Twilight was falling.
Shadows stretched long as people lit the gas lamps along the streets.
A ragged boy from the city outskirts came running into the city hall square.
"Sister Dain!"
"What is it?"
The panting boy said,
"They're coming—the army. Not sure how many... but just like you said, spotted them at the western horizon."
Dain bit her lip, and Sarcho bowed his head.
As Dain moved to climb the platform, Sarcho said,
"The second... option?"
"Yeah."
Dain called out simply.
"Comrades! Sad news. I'm truly sorry it came to this."
Dain paused, waiting for the protesters to take it in, then continued.
"The mayor has chosen silence in the end, responding not with the answers we want, but differently. He's called in the army again. They mean to kill us."
The protesters' faces darkened.
Those who had been silent during Dain's speech began murmuring.
Dain said,
"Like at last Unity Day celebration, they want to slaughter us all and erase the revolution as if it never happened. Make us forgotten in people's memories, like our comrades before. ...Will we accept that fate?"
The protesters fell silent for a moment.
Dain shouted,
"I'm asking if we'll die like this! Will we just die?"
The cry elicited a resounding chorus of resolute refusals from each person's thoughts.
"We haven't even heard from the mayor yet. Will we just take it lying down? Or show them first with our actions? ...Endure it? Or act?"
"We will act!"
The voices merged into one massive echo.
Dain said,
"Flee and survive in silence? Or shed blood today, die, and spark a continuing revolution? Silence? Or revolution?"
"Revolution!"
Dain raised her fist high.
"Then let's show those who ignored our ultimatum what we're made of! We will be remembered forever!"
A colossal roar engulfed the city hall square.
Eldar said,
"We can't stop it anymore."
"No."
Seong-un replied.
The two were in Eldar's personal space.
Eldar's space consisted of several rooms; this one could be considered his reception room.
Overall, it resembled an open garden with an artificial sun, but curiously, living trees had grown into geometric shapes forming chairs and tables, making it feel entirely natural at first glance.
When Seong-un suggested monitoring the protesters, Eldar readily agreed.
Eldar said,
"But it's still strange, don't you think? Wouldn't it be more effective if we directly led the protesters, like Runda or Jangwan? In fact, those revolutionary forces achieved some success."
Seong-un agreed.
The winds of revolution were blowing, but Hegemonia's response was top-tier.
Such "revolutions" were common events in Lost World before the late game.
Many games ended before reaching the late stages, but to secure a definite win rate, handling revolutions and countermeasures thoroughly was essential.
The back-and-forth over these "revolutions" depended on various factors: which side leaned more toward egalitarianism, whether the playstyle enjoyed disruptions, the timing of the situation, and more.