Chapter 883 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 883: Scars On the deck of the "Nest of Salvation" transport ship. The bearded captain squinted slightly as he gazed at the nearby port. "Eternal Night Port... Come to think of it, the last time I passed by here was last year." Ailman, standing beside him, nodded, his eyes also fixed on the port. "Yeah... The changes here are so significant that I almost didn't recognize it." The long, narrow docks were as busy as ever, perhaps even busier than during their peak. The only difference was that the merchant and passenger ships previously docked here were gone, replaced by steel decks and towering cannons. The frequent harassment by the alliance fleet forced the Southern Legion to strengthen patrols in the waters between Eternal Night Port and the southernmost areas and organize anti-submarine forces to escort supply transport fleets. Meanwhile, Eternal Night Port played the role of a "human transit station." Reinforcements from the colonies and the mainland gathered here before collectively heading to West Sail Port. The wounded and disabled pulled back from West Sail Port were transferred here to catch ships home. In the distance on the shore, a group of idle young men stood, and Ailman found it easy to tell who had returned from the front and who was preparing to head there. They were like sugarcane being fed into a juicer, standing tall and straight going in, and coming out as crumpled pulp. No exceptions. The real tough guys were either in coffins or missing, unable to return from the front. Unconsciously, this small frontier town at the crossroads of the East and West had become the forefront of two clashing forces. All merchant ships, whether from the East or the West, cautiously avoided this place. This change made Ailman's fleet conspicuously out of place, drawing countless curious gazes as soon as it approached the port. Ailman did not want this attention; he would have rather not earned from this trip. But when the quartermaster at West Sail Port entrusted those wounded men to his care, he found himself unable to refuse the request. Most of those young men had been withdrawn from Tian Du, many missing limbs and unable to care for themselves, becoming a burden for the front lines. Most people of Viranta found it unacceptable that these men were reduced to such states by a group of Burlese they once considered unworthy of opposition, mere lambs for slaughter. Losing to a group of "mud bloods" without backbone was, in their eyes, a disgrace to the Viranta name. Ailman was filled with mixed emotions upon learning of the wounded soldiers' plight. Though their injuries were partly a consequence of their own beliefs, these soldiers were still his compatriots. He found it difficult to mock these so-called useless men alongside those madmen. There was nothing funny about it. Out of sympathy, he altered his itinerary, accepting the logistics department’s request to ferry 5,000 severely injured Viranta soldiers to Eternal Night Port before transporting laborers to Settlement One on the Death Coast. Plus, he missed his family. Since the West Sail Port incident, he had relocated his wife and children to Eternal Night Port. It's been a while since he last saw them. While reminiscing about the past prosperity of Eternal Night Port, on the ship's other side, a few "Blue Ground Mice" from the alliance excitedly looked towards the port. "Eternal Night Port!" "Wow, so many warships!" "Wait, and why are there so many small boats on the dock?!" "Probably to avoid the 'Larkens' in the water. Big ships easily get hit by torpedoes, so they switched to smaller boats for transport." "Are we the first players to reach this far south?" "Tail apparently only got to West Sail Port." "That was so long ago. I heard the Battlefield guy passed here ages ago." "Damn! Do these veteran players have to be so competitive? Give newbies a chance to shine!" Initially, their ship from the Death Coast intended to dock at West Sail Port, only to be denied entry. Thus, they stayed aboard, traveling with Ailman to the legendary southernmost survivor gathering point, Eternal Night Port. This was outside the war zone, so while the Blue Ground Mice weren't warmly welcomed, they weren't denied entry either. They originally thought even if they couldn't engage in mischievous antics, at least they could explore a new map. However, they soon discovered others had already beat them to it. Everyone wore expressions of disgruntlement, faces filled with disappointment. Except for one guy. With the ID "Talon Raider," he was the leader of the Desert Legion. The name might sound intimidating, but in reality, it was a small, insignificant legion. At its peak, it couldn't even compete with the Silver Legion, not to mention neighboring Abstract. Regardless, the leader was an ambitious man. Though only a Tier 5 in strength, he dreamt of reaching Tier 0. He named the legion after spotting that the alliance was about to enter the Logxia province to engage in warfare, yet no player legion specialized in desert combat. Unfortunately, the leader's limited abilities and the members' consistent underperformance kept the Desert Legion from shining on the stage of "Wasteland OL," even as the expansion pack moved from "Battle of Logxia" to "Southern Invasion." It proved that the strength of a team and its name's seriousness had nothing in common. Like how Spring Water Commander's name did not reflect an actual spring water commander, Midnight Chicken Killer did more than just chicken slaughtering, Mosquito's caliber was anything but small, and Tail was genuinely fast. Through it all, several newbies were misled by Desert Legion's name, thinking it was on par with Jungle, Storm, and Death Legions, only to be let down upon discovering their leader was just an average joe, prompting them to leave the legion in disappointment. Thus, the indomitable leader with a rotating roster of troops held the fort till now. Yet Brother Talon was a committed dreamer, never giving up the struggle. Perhaps his sincerity moved the game designers, finally gifting him an opportunity to showcase his talents! Logging in tonight, he unexpectedly discovered a shimmering red dot in the upper right corner of his taskbar on the official website! It indicated an offline task release! Known to all, a hidden task triggers when events in the player's locale catch the attention of the alliance's top BOSS, the Administrator himself! What does this imply? It implies the Administrator had his eyes on him! Not only that, but the esteemed Administrator acknowledged him, deeming him the most reliable on this voyage! Receiving such an honor, Brother Talon felt overwhelmed with gratitude, deciding right then— He would not miss this chance! Nor would he disappoint the Administrator! "Quiet! Quiet! Everyone, please listen to me." Walking to the forefront, Talon Raider cleared his throat, signaling for players' attention. As for those who ignored him, he couldn't bother with them. He focused on those who did heed his call. "I am the leader of the Desert Legion. I know you're all disappointed now, but don't worry! I assure you, this trip was not in vain!" "Just last night, our Desert Legion received news: Enlightenment Society seems to be infiltrating the Southern Legion. The Administrator wants us to thoroughly investigate this!" As the players started murmuring among themselves, Talon's heart leaped with joy. Yet, he maintained a stern expression and continued righteously. "This mission is very crucial. It doesn't only concern the front lines in the Burlese province but the survival of the entire wasteland! Therefore, we need your help!" "Starting now, anyone joining Desert Legion within the next twenty-four hours can participate in the hidden task we've triggered! Together, we'll share the bountiful mission rewards!" To be fair, his hidden task ruse did captivate quite a few players. Especially the ignorant newcomers, who were tempted to enlist. Only battle-hardened veterans, on the other hand, stood aside with arms crossed, paying it no mind. Unlike clueless newbies, they had seen much more. "If the task were really that crucial, it wouldn't fall to this guy." "+1" "I reckon the Administrator was just bored." Such scenarios were not unheard of. Even the ramen shop owner near the shelter had at times received unique offline tasks, so deducing the importance of a task solely based on its mode of issuing was unreliable. As a few veteran players laughed and mumbled amongst themselves, there stood Ailman, gazing intriguingly at the guy loudly making a speech. While not many understood the Sanctuary 404 language, it was not entirely incomprehensible. Take him, for instance—after filtering out the peculiar jargon, he got the gist of it. Essentially, the Alliance's Desert Legion was on the Southern Legion's turf searching for an entity called the Enlightenment Society. Given the ongoing war in the Borra Province, the guy might as well have shouted, "I'm a spy!" in common language. However, Ailman did not expose him. Firstly, he had business dealings with the Alliance, and secondly, he didn't agree with the Southern Legion's approach. As a businessman, it was better not to rashly involve himself in the games played by the powerful. He had already suffered once before and didn’t fancy repeating the experience... … While the legion leader was chattering away, doing what could either be an encouragement or a sales pitch, the customs officers onshore also took notice of the docking fleet. Not long after, as the "Nest of Salvation" smoothly settled beside the dock, a man with a limp approached. He wore a military uniform adorned with combat medals, but his shoulder insignia was missing. Ailman reckoned he was an officer transferred to customs, yet couldn't guess his rank. The man removed the hat from his head, squinting up and calling to those on the deck. "Where are you folks coming from?" The bearded captain responded with a shout. "West Sail Port, we're here to drop off wounded soldiers." "West Sail Port... haha, I guess the only cargo there is the wounded," the man grinned, a touch of mockery at the edge of his lips, though whom it targeted was unclear. He suddenly added, "And where else have you been?" Surprised by the question barrage, the bearded captain grew tense. Ailman stepped forward and called out to the man onshore. "We've been to many places. What, now we need more paperwork just to dock?" The man holding the hat raised his hands, laughing heartily. "Don't be nervous, I was just making conversation... Welcome home, fellow countrymen from afar." His meaningful words suggested he knew where they had been. But Ailman scarcely cared and, while disembarking, discreetly handed the man a bag of coins, someone who had abandoned notions of faith and honor. Compared to the compensation he'd received from Guriang's logistics department, this "public relations expense" was insignificant. The man's eyes brightened upon feeling the weight of the purse, his smile widening at the prospect of a well-funded evening. "You merchants sure rake it in... Damn, I should never have tried becoming a centurion." Ailman chuckled lightly. "It's not always this way. You see me when I profit, not when I lose." Everyone’s a gambler, none more noble than the other—just different in wins and losses. Before the war, or at least before it turned into such a debacle, he too had envied those officers. But now, he was indifferent to wins and losses. In a no-win bet, fleeting victories held no meaning. The man raised an eyebrow slightly, tucking the coin pouch away, then extended his right hand. "Let's be friends, I'm Kuruan, former Centurion of the 34th Division, now working at Eternal Night Port customs." "Ailman, shareholder and manager of Hanging Wall Labor Agency," Ailman shook his hand and introduced himself. Kuruan whistled before laughing and teasing. "Hanging Wall? Like hanging on a wall? Such an odd name." Ailman smirked slightly. "My partner came up with it, said it's to 'never forget the beginning.'" Kuruan queried, "A partner from the Alliance?" Ailman nodded. "Many of the folks from the east are like that. Quite a few are eccentric, but they're interesting once you get to know them." "Mind sharing what business you're in...? Ah, don't worry, it's after hours. You don’t have to answer if you'd rather not." Noticing the captain’s wary look, Kuruan raised his head with a reassuring smile. Ailman replied casually. "Not much secrecy around it. We enter a loan agreement with slaves in West Sail Port, aid in their redemption, and then transport them to the labor-hungry Death Coast." Kuruan rubbed his chin, intrigued. "Death Coast—I’ve heard of it." Ailman continued. "The Eastern Legion's expeditionary forces have been there; it used to be Torch’s territory." Kuruan asked curiously. "Are there Viranta people there?" Ailman replied with a light chuckle. "Certainly, and many at that. Some expeditionary forces just stayed there, and others hail from West Sail Port or the New World; you meet all sorts." "People from the New World?!" Kuruan laughed, "Then it must be quite the place indeed." Within the Viranta hierarchy, prejudice existed. New World Viranta were considered the slyest, with most regard from the Old World deeming them as opportunists rather than warriors. In the Southern Legion versus Alliance showdown, they profited from the background, unwilling personally to get involved. But, weren't there not for the relatively capable fleets under the Western Legion, their reputation might match that of the civil servants in Triumph City. Ailman thought for a bit before replying. "It’s indeed a remarkable place, in more ways than one." Pausing playfully, he added. "On this trip back, I plan to bring my family along." Kuruan laughed heartily. "You make it sound like paradise. Why don’t you take me too?" Ailman cast him a surprised look. "Are you serious?" Kuruan grinned. "Just kidding, but I'd love to hear more about it. Free tonight for a drink? My treat, using the money I just earned from you." He patted his still-warm coin purse as he spoke. Finding the man amusing, Ailman chuckled. "Then I’ll drink it all back." … Once customs registration was completed, the wounded Viranta were gradually brought ashore. Ailman quickly realized why the former centurion from the 34th Division didn’t look down upon him for intending to move his family, even jokingly asking to join him. Perhaps due to the sheer number of wounded, Eternal Night Port's logistics department could barely manage the new arrivals. These unfortunate souls no longer held value for the Southern Legion, and even as heroes for propaganda, their sheer numbers rendered them obsolete. In the Southern Legion’s Victory Report, only 2,000 men supposedly died outside Tian Du. Such a sudden influx of wounded soldiers could easily embarrass those in power. The Southern Legion wouldn’t forsake them, yet they wouldn’t recognize their sacrifices either. Not a single doctor was there to receive them, merely a dozen uniformed workers tasked with recording their names and swiftly arranging their homeward journeys. Thankfully, they didn’t need to pay for their tickets home. As for replacements like prosthetics or amputations—that depended on local hospitals and logistical decisions. Ultimately, it might result in young men from Aivent City getting prosthetics, while those from the colonies received alternate solutions. Suddenly, Ailman had second thoughts about bringing the young men here. Perhaps the Death Coast would be more fitting. However, it wasn’t his decision to make. And even if he attempted it, these wounded might not appreciate his efforts. Imposed kindness was merely self-indulgence; not every slave from West Sail Port was eager to voyage to an entirely unknown land. After all, it was a wasteland. Places that didn't metaphorically consume people were rare enough. Yet, once this idea took root in Ailman's mind, it grew uncontrollably. He genuinely wished to help his injured compatriots. And he sensed that, like those Burlese, they needed his assistance. The legion wouldn’t care for these wounded soldiers for life, but at least the Refuge Home of the Alliance could offer them prosthetics to live self-sufficiently. Presently, many officers pulled back from the front lines were being reassigned to transitional roles at this remote outpost, Eternal Night Port. These individuals might hold varied perspectives on the war. Perhaps when having drinks later, he could discuss expanding his business in Eternal Night Port with that man named Kuruan... As the wounded disembarked, so did the passengers from the Alliance, trailing them off the ship. Spotting [Talon Raider] surveying the docks with curiosity, Ailman kindly offered some advice. "I may not be much help with your investigation, but I can introduce you to an acquaintance. His name is Nork; he used to be a sailor in my crew before becoming a mercenary. He’s local and would make a better guide than other Virantas, especially during this volatile time." With those words, Ailman handed the shelter resident a piece of paper with an address scribbled upon it. Looking at the NPC-provided clue, Talon, who’d been struggling on where to start his task, accepted it with excitement and gratitude. "Thank you so much! You’ve been a huge help!" Observing the spirited young man, Ailman smiled warmly. "You’re welcome. I was once aided by someone from your group, too. Should anything terrible arise here... I hope you can save my compatriots." ... Parting ways with his friends from the Alliance, Ailman collected his reward from the logistics department and returned to the docks. Spotting the awaiting captain, he spoke in a hushed voice. "I’m now quite certain of my earlier suspicions... This place is no longer safe." The bearded captain paused, somewhat taken aback, and instinctively asked. "You think the fighting will spread here?" Gazing at the nearby shallow-water gunboats, Ailman remarked with deep implication. "Hasn't it already started to encroach?" The captain's expression was slightly moved, yet his face retained an air of disbelief. "I think you’re overthinking it... this is an internal war between the Empire and the rebels. If the Alliance really pushes this far, Triumph City won't stand idly by." His family was in Eternal Night Port. If the conflict were truly approaching, he’d have to seriously consider their safety. "It’s not overthinking but a struggle to trust the promises of those who’ve lied before... It’d be one thing if it were just me, but I have to consider my wife and child." Ailman placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. "This time, I plan to take them with me... You should think about them too." "So you were serious all along... I thought you were just joking with Kuruan." The captain smiled wryly, scratching the back of his head before finally squeezing out another sentence with difficulty. "...Give me some time. Such a significant decision requires careful thought." It was the first time Ailman had seen hesitation on the face of this typically carefree man. But he understood the sentiment. When he first decided to leave Triumph City for the scarcely resourced West Sail Port in pursuit of wealth, it took considerable effort to convince himself and his family. This time, however, it wasn’t fortune he sought, but peace. He did not want to endure another heartbreaking separation. It's hard to say if next time, should it occur, he would be as fortunate as the last. "We’ll be here for a week; you have plenty of time to ponder." He paused before adding. "Though perhaps I’m just overthinking things; who knows?" To be continued...