Witch, Fireball and Steam Evil God

Chapter 367 The Fourth Day

In fact, Professor Karl and the philosopher who wrote the City of Truth look very different. When he fell into the dream, it was at the beginning of the establishment of the empire. The philosopher was in his prime. According to the society's description of him, he had sharp eyes and was handsome. But Professor Karl was over fifty years old and had a plump figure. He looked like a kind old man.

Moreover, the old man had a noticeable red mark on his face when he entered the "dream".

"Professor Karl, are you alright?"

Ethan stared at the red mark on his face and asked with concern.

Recently, the Imperial Knight Commander, Beyond, returned to the capital, and the city's security has greatly improved. Even if Professor Karl were to walk down the street at night, he shouldn't be attacked.

Could it have been Miss Chloe who did it?

"I'm fine, I was just a little too engrossed in it."

He touched his left cheek. Ever since Ethan left, he had repeatedly put himself into the role of the philosopher, trying his best to imitate him in language and behavior. To ensure that he was absolutely sure, he had also used the magic of the Society of Truth to give himself a strong psychological suggestion.

The spell was very successful.

When he yelled at Vince at the dinner table, "Who are you? I don't have a wife like you," Vince finally lost his temper and used a non-lethal physical attack on him.

"You don't need to be so nervous."

Ethan said, "They won't notice anything amiss."

He was very confident about this.

Because in this place, he said that whoever he thought should replace the philosopher could replace the philosopher, and the opinions of the members of the democratic council were not important. Even if the "otherworldly" visitor they were familiar with turned into a bald, overweight old man, they had to accept it silently.

He and Professor Carl stood across the street from the "Consensus Monument." Professor Carl looked up at the building that stretched straight into the clouds. He still couldn't quite believe that the "civilizational spire of the ideal state" that he had described countless times in books was now truly present before his eyes.

He knew very well what would happen if he walked through that door.

The book also mentions countless times the communication and negotiation between ancient philosophers and democratic parliaments. He had memorized those dialogues and knew them by heart.

"I'll leave the rest to you. I'm going to work now."

Ethan said, "Don't be nervous. In their eyes, you are a familiar visitor, no doubt about it."

This is the fourth day since the dream began.

The "ideal state" is rapidly heading towards destruction.

Ethan skipped over the mundane daily routines, using only the major events recorded in "The City of Truth" as signposts. Today, Professor Carl will have an in-depth discussion with the Democratic Council on the topic of "Perfect Sample" and the Righteous God and the Way of Faith.

He went to the clothing store again.

As you descend the stairs, you'll find the three professors already waiting there.

Normally, the research and production cycle of HEV protective clothing should take several months or even a year to conform to objective laws, but Ethan shortened the time to one day.

"Ethan, you've finally arrived."

Professor Sun insisted on waiting for Ethan to arrive at the lab before starting the experiment, as a sign of respect for the knowledge sharer. He eagerly led Ethan to the lab and had prepared mice in advance. Professor Sun carefully dressed the mice in HEV protective suits before placing them into the instrument.

Everyone held their breath.

The last time they did this, the experiment was completed, but they ended up with a dead mouse.

The instrument's button was turned on, and the crackling sound echoed in the laboratory for a long time. They stared intently at the HEV protective suit and the white mouse that had been torn apart by the yellow lightning. Two seconds later, it appeared on the other end of the instrument. The startled white mouse froze in place until Professor Sun poked its body with a glass rod, at which point the white mouse let out a sharp squeak.

But that hiss was quickly drowned out by the cheers of the three professors.

These three elderly people with white hair were as excited as recent graduates. They high-fived each other in celebration, as if they wanted to hug each other and dance a ballroom dance.

"Mochi Tech! I knew Mochi Tech's PhD students could do it!"

Professor Sun, who was in charge of the project, clenched his fist. Spatial teleportation technology was nothing short of a technological revolution. However, when he looked at Ethan, he found the young man standing calmly in place, as if this huge success was just a matter of course for him.

This reminded him of his mentor, but that old man was already a ninety-year-old man, while Ethan, who was younger than anyone else in the room, had reached a level that they could only dream of.

Regardless of the process, the experiment was a success.

Ethan noticed that Professor Zhou made a phone call, and shortly afterward, footsteps could be heard in the corridor.

The person who entered was a middle-aged man he had never seen before. He was also wearing the same white lab coat. The three of them placed the white mouse back on the left side of the instrument in front of him and completed the experiment in the same manner.

Despite the thunder and lightning, the experiment was still a success.

This time, the white mouse didn't react to the stress; instead, it screamed and bared its teeth at the group immediately after being teleported.

"Congratulations."

Compared to the three professors, the unfamiliar middle-aged man seemed much calmer, saying, "You have made outstanding contributions to this city."

"This is all thanks to Ethan. If it weren't for this young man, we would hardly have gotten this far."

"Then, as agreed, the company will arrive in an hour. Please ask the family to be prepared."

"Of course, now we need to go back and pack our things." The three professors left one after another. This was probably the first time in recent months that they had left the laboratory and returned to their homes. It was the doomsday prophecy that brought them together. They were willing to give up their respected status, time with their families, and glamorous and comfortable lives, and return to the state they were in when they were young and pursuing their doctorates, locking themselves in the laboratory all day long.

There are naturally some aspects of the agreement that Ethan is unaware of.

"Where are they going?"

After the three professors left the lab, Ethan asked a question.

“They will come back here to continue their research,” the middle-aged man said indifferently. “Before that, they earned themselves and their families a ticket to the shelter.”

"refuge?"

“Mr. Ethan, you have proven your worth in three days, which is better than we expected. The company… no, the council trusts your knowledge and ability, and you and your wife will also receive tickets to the sanctuary.”

The middle-aged man didn't look like a researcher; his tone and attitude were more like those of a manager. "Your work at the West Suburbs Research Institute has come to an end. They will continue their research on HEV protective suits and space teleportation. The council has arranged a new position for you."

On the third day of my job, I was given a job change, and the middle-aged man's tone didn't sound like he was discussing it.

Can I refuse?

"...This might not be a good idea."

The middle-aged man said, “Come with me and see your own lab and your team.”

On his third day on the job, Ethan noticed, guided by the middle-aged man, that there was an even larger space underground in the western suburban research institute. There were long corridors illuminated by incandescent lights, and people wearing the same uniforms who had settled there long-term. It looked like a real shelter.

This reminded him of prophecies such as Noah's Ark, where the people of the Western Continent built an ark capable of breaking through the waves to cope with the world-ending flood.

Then, the remaining people will have to scheme and fight for the "tickets," turning everything into a power game.

Just now, three professors won "tickets" for themselves and their families. It seems that many people who "made outstanding contributions" had won tickets before them, but Ethan thinks that most of them are officials who decided to leave some empty rooms for others after they moved in with their bags.

This stern-faced middle-aged man exuded an air of officialdom, suggesting that his position was quite high.

Walking through the long corridor lit by incandescent lights, Ethan arrived at his familiar office.

This is a place he saw when he was a "game designer," where the version of Winter with long, straight black hair was also here. His desk is closest to the corridor, while the project manager is on the left.

So, is he planning to develop a large-scale alternate-world role-playing game that the residents of the shelter can enter and enjoy before the end of the century?

"This is where you will be working from now on."

The middle-aged man stopped in front of the familiar desk.

What are the tasks for this assignment?

"Let's take a look at these first."

A thick stack of documents was piled on the desk, with detailed illustrations in addition to the text, depicting a lifelike medieval city.

All the descriptions are derived from the ancient philosophers' accounts of the empire, which have been summarized into text and illustrations and then transferred here.

"Your project manager will explain the specifics to you in detail."

The middle-aged man suddenly thought of something, “Try to treat it as a real world.”

After leaving those words, the project manager quickly walked away in the direction he had come from.

The destruction of the City of Truth, and the blank memory in his mind—everything seemed to be connected in this way.

This was the last project he handled. After that, he traveled to Riverwood and joined the ranks of refugees.

With this in mind, Ethan knocked on the door of the project manager's office.

With their signature Mediterranean hairstyles, they often secretly admired their boss's hair during work hours, as every one of their ingenious ideas had been rejected by this unscrupulous leader.

In front of his subordinates, Mr. Mediterranean always maintained a superior demeanor.

But not now.

When he entered, Mr. Mediterranean was sitting nervously behind his desk, even his speech was stammering, “Hello, Mr. Ethan, yes, they mentioned you to me, welcome to the department.”

Besides feeling awkward, Ethan also saw a deep fear in Mr. Mediterranean's eyes.

The look in his eyes was exactly the same as when the guild members saw him appear with a "404" error message.

"Hello."

Ethan extended his right hand to Mr. Mediterranean in a friendly manner, deciding to ease the tense atmosphere in the office with a witty joke, "Don't be so tense, I'm not some kind of psychopathic serial killer."

"It's hard to say..."

Mr. Mediterranean was startled and quickly explained, "Oh, of course, I mean, I certainly know you are a law-abiding citizen."

(End of this chapter)