Dark Ruins Dawn

Chapter 91 Nothingness
Two hundred meters away from the recycling station, there is an underground platform.

This is a relic of a glorious era, now only ruins remain, and the tunnels have all collapsed.

The Jetta team has been entrenched here for some time.

Compared to its initial orderly state, only a mess remains here.

Food scraps and empty cans were scattered everywhere, and several black rat-men lay sprawled in a corner, seemingly oblivious to the filth and mess around them.

Other rat-men sat in a circle, gambling with stones, occasionally letting out curses.

Chaos and disorder prevailed, and the rats were numb with despair.

Finally, two black rat-men stood up and slammed the stones in their hands onto the ground.

They went into the deepest den, one after the other.

Under the dim light of a petroleum oil lamp, Jetta was squatting on the ground, sorting through a pile of salvaged scrap parts.

He fiddled with the parts absentmindedly until an impatient shout came from behind him.

Jetta.

Jetta didn't turn around, but just grunted in response.

"We're leaving."

The Jetta stopped moving.

He slowly stood up and turned to look at the two familiar faces in front of him.

"Where are you going?"

"Go and seek refuge with Santa."

Without the slightest hesitation, the black ratman said, "We heard that he is now the warehouse manager of the brown rat tribe, in charge of dozens of ratmen. He lives a much better life than us, with food and drink, and even a female rat."

Another black rat-man chimed in:

"Exactly! What can we see here? All we do is stand around and fight all day. There's not even any proper work. I'm practically turning into mold!"

Jetta frowned slightly: "When I was working illegally for the Brown Rat Tribe, I didn't see you being particularly diligent either."

After being exposed, the black rat-man's expression turned grim, and he raised his voice:
"Jetta, you said before that scavenging would start soon and we'd make money quickly, but we've waited so long and there's nothing to show for it. The living expenses you promised are still nowhere to be seen!"

"Let's wait a little longer."

Jetta looked a little tired: "The strategist is just temporarily busy; he'll be back soon."

"You said that a few days ago."

The leader of the black ratmen shook his head. "We can't wait any longer, Jetta. You'd better watch yourself."

Jetta's shoulders slumped.

He didn't try to stop them, but silently took out a small stack of gold notes from a worn metal box, counted out a thousand, and stuffed them into their hands.

"I'm really having some difficulties right now, I'm sorry, please take this money."

The two black rat-men paused for a moment, gave him a complicated look, and ultimately chose to leave.

Jetta turned around and reopened the metal box, revealing a small stack of gold banknotes, as thin as a few withered leaves.

As he counted the bills one by one, a profound sense of powerlessness washed over him when he realized he had less than three thousand gold coins left.

He knew he had messed everything up.

After receiving nearly 100,000 gold coins from the strategist, he was filled with hope for the future.

He thought that as the team grew, the scavenging efficiency would increase, and more money could be earned, allowing him to further expand the team.
The rise of the Black Rat Clan is promising.

So he began recruiting, using high salaries and promises to expand the team to twenty-five Black Ratmen.

To win over the team, he spent a whopping 40,000 gold coins to buy ten "Wasteland Travelers" in one go, giving every member on duty a completely new weapon.

Then came the nano-medical kit, survival gear kit, fog lights... and a huge sum of money was spent just like that.

After being flattered by Mao Shanwang, he spent another 20,000 gold coins to purchase ten iron-pipe pistols and boxes of bullets, as well as some fragmentation grenades, smoke bombs and Molotov cocktails.

He squandered almost all his savings.

This doesn't even include the five hundred gold coins he verbally promised each person per month for living expenses.

If it weren't for Watson sending a large truckload of food and water purification equipment, the entire team would probably have had trouble even with their most basic survival.

It's hard to go from luxury to frugality, and the team's morale was severely damaged. Having gotten used to eating black bread and protein bars, who would want to catch insects and gnaw on tree bark?

How did it turn out like this? Jetta gripped his rat head tightly, unable to understand it at all.

He used to be just an ordinary rat soldier, doing whatever his superiors told him to do without ever having to worry.

Now, when he's asked to lead a team himself, managing money and people, he realizes he's simply not good at it.

And no one on the team knew anything about it.

The current problem is that scavenging and recycling have been suspended, and Watson has made it clear that no intelligence is needed for the time being, directly cutting off the team's only source of income.

The idle black rats either stare blankly, hunt in the ruins, or even run into the black market in groups of three or five to steal things. Fighting and brawling are commonplace.

People's hearts have completely broken down.

The team size dropped from 25 to the original 15, with only 10 actually able to work, and the remaining 5 were elderly, weak, or young.

These black rats were loyal to him and never left his side.

Jetta was momentarily confused.

He didn't know how much further he could go on this road.

……

The Brown Rat Clan's stronghold, an abandoned warehouse.

Since joining Tataji's side, Santa has successfully become a warehouse manager and has gained some power, becoming the backbone of the Black Ratmen.

Two newly arrived members of the same clan were spitting as they complained about the Jetta team's predicament.

"You mean they've stopped scavenging? And the Demon General and the strategist have disappeared too?"

After listening, Santa's beady eyes narrowed.

"Absolutely true! We saw it with our own eyes!"
"Sir Santa, you were right! We've been following that idiot Jetta, and our place is practically rotting away; we're even going hungry!"

Santa frowned: "Get to the point, stop swearing."

"Yes Yes!"

Santa waved his paw impatiently: "Go to the warehouse and get some food and water. Tell me your name."

"Thank you, Mr. Santa!"

The two black rat-men bowed and scraped as they left.

Santa sat on the tire, even more convinced that he had made the right choice.

"Jetta, are you going to remain so stubborn and make your people suffer because of you?"

He shook his head and reported the news he had just heard to Tataji word for word.

Tataji, nestled in its throne made of a bathtub and tires, listened patiently to the report.

Tataji nodded and let Santa leave.

Being cautious by nature, he did not fully believe Santa's words and instead summoned his own staff.

"Some time ago, those lunatics from the Apocalypse Cult lured a horde of zombies to test the depths of the recycling station. As you know, the enemy's firepower was fierce, and the horde of zombies was completely wiped out."

"Do you think these Black Ratmen who came to seek refuge might also be spies sent by Jetta?"

The advisor was an old brown rat with grayish-white fur. It twirled its whiskers, and a glint of shrewdness flashed in its eyes.

"Your Majesty, do you mean that Santa is lying?"

Tataji gripped the bone in his hand and said in a deep voice:

“I’m worried that the demon general might pretend to disappear, lure me out of the cave, and then capture me all at once. I don’t think Santa is being honest.”

"Your Majesty, I believe this intelligence is very likely true."

"Oh? Tell me."

"The people at the recycling center held off the last zombie horde attack, but that's precisely the problem."

The aide calmly analyzed:
"If the Demon General were really present, he could easily cast a wall of dark mist, and the horde of corpses would not dare to approach."

"Even if we take a step back and assume the worst, Lord Demon General could simply go to the Queen of Corpses' lair and force her to retreat. Why then must we fight such a difficult battle?"

“That makes sense,” Tataji nodded.

"Your Majesty, there is another detail that can corroborate this."

The aide continued, "The scavenging team from the recycling center hasn't shown up for several days, and our sentries haven't spotted them in the field."

Tataji then realized, "What about King Mao's caravan?"

"Your Majesty, the caravan of King Maoshan is also acting strangely. The last few times they went to the recycling station, they went fully loaded with supplies and returned empty-handed. What does this mean?"
"This means the Demon General failed to remove the decaying mist, so the scraps couldn't be sold for a good price, and King Maoshan was unwilling to accept them."

The aide added, "In addition to their fortification of the base, this posture of shrinking defenses is precisely a sign of internal weakness."

Tataji's rat-like eyes narrowed, and his knuckles tapped lightly on the edge of the bathtub: "Can you find out any more information?"

The aide shook his head:

"It's difficult. All the sentries we've sent out these past few days have been sniped by that raccoon on the clock tower."

"The enemy now has two snipers and a drone, with an extremely wide reconnaissance range, making it impossible for our people to get close."

Tataji frowned.

It had witnessed the last battle; the recycling station's counterattack was indeed fierce. Even if the demon general was not present, a direct attack would still come at a great cost.

The advisors, sensing its concerns, offered another plan:
"Your Majesty, as long as we have sufficient firepower, eliminating the zombie horde is not difficult, but it requires a lot of money to support us."

“I bet the recycling station is losing money and will definitely run out of cash. It certainly won’t last long. And look at the Maoshanwang caravan, it hasn’t come for seven or eight days. They used to come every three days.”

Tataji's beady eyes lit up: "So, we still need to let those lunatics from the Apocalypse Cult go first, exhaust their ammunition and resources, before we can make our move."

"Your Majesty is wise!" the advisors quickly complimented.

Tataji picked up the Wasteland Traveler and dialed the communication with the human patriarch of the Apocalypse Cult.

"My friend, Patriarch, I've just received reliable information that the Recycling Station is outwardly strong but inwardly weak, and that so-called Demon General has vanished. In short, let's join forces to attack. Afterwards, the Baron is yours, and everything else is mine!"

The patriarch opposite listened patiently, his tone tinged with wariness:
"Tataji, you deserted when you attacked the Zhongdu caravan last time. Do you want to fool me again?"

"This time, that time!"

Tataji patted his chest and vowed, "This time I will personally take the field and I will never back down! If you don't believe me, I swear in the name of the gods!"
"God is above!"

The patriarch on the other side was a devout fanatic. Upon hearing "the name of the gods," most of his doubts dissipated, and he finally agreed to join forces.

After the communication ended, the staff looked at Tataji with surprise and bewilderment.

"Your Majesty, when did you become a believer in the gods?"

Tataji scoffed and said disdainfully, "What bullshit gods? I worship the Rat God."

The advisor was even more confused, as he had never heard of the Rat God, so he humbly asked for guidance:
"Your Majesty, what is the Rat God's decree? I will remember it well."

Tataji was stumped. After thinking for a while, it seriously made up a story.

"At all costs, eat and drink well."

……

In the tenth layer of the dream, the starry sky still shines brightly.

The demon general had spent countless years here, so long that its consciousness was almost fading away.

Time loses its measure here.

This universe of memories is both magnificent and desolate, making its presence increasingly faint.

It watched as the blue giant collapsed into a white dwarf after running out of fuel, and watched as two neutron stars collided under gravity, spewing out bright gamma-ray bursts.

It sees stars born in dust and ancient star clusters being torn apart by gravitational tides.

It sees everything, but not its own destiny.

The demon general relies on the eerie mist to sustain itself, but there is no eerie mist in this memory.

Its spirit is like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

When it realized its time was coming to an end, it felt a sense of relief.

The demon general's gaze returned to the tent, where the father and son were still playing chess.

They were like two tireless machines, their battles on the chessboard repeated billions of times.

At first, it was quite interested in calculating the game, but after playing hundreds of millions of games, it had long since lost the will to do so.

It used its last strength to wake Zhuang Fan.

Zhuang Fan's mechanical movements were interrupted, and his empty eyes gradually regained their sparkle.

He turned to look at the Demon General, his voice as calm as still water: "This is the thirteen millionth time you've woken me up. If you have something to say, say it; otherwise, get lost."

Having been immersed in this deep memory for too long, his mind has become dulled, and he mechanically plays chess every day to pass the time.

"Hey, I'm finally going to die."

"Congratulations."

"But even if I die, you won't be able to escape this dream."

The demon general's voice was particularly weak, yet tinged with schadenfreude: "You are bound by this memory; you will be left here alone forever."

Zhuang Fan nodded in agreement: "You're right. Is there anything else? Don't keep me from playing chess."

The demon general's consciousness grew increasingly weak, his voice carrying a mocking detachment that seemed to see through everything:

“Old friend, what are you talking about delaying? There’s no shortage of time here. You’re just using the battles on the chessboard to cover up the desolation in your heart.”

"If you have any last words, hurry up and say them."

It looked at Zhuang Fan and uttered its last words.

"I misjudged you. You are indeed not human; you are walking a forbidden path. It's very dangerous."

Zhuang Fan wanted to ask more questions, but the outline of the demon general had already begun to disintegrate, turning into countless glimmers of light.

It vanished beneath the starry sky, completely freed.

Zhuang Fan remained silent for a long time, a strange emotion spreading in his chest. It took him a while to recognize that it was disappointment.

He hadn't felt this emotion in a long time, and now he had no one left to complain to.

The father beside her was merely a fabricated, templated product of her dream, devoid of any independent consciousness.

Zhuang's father's voice sounded mechanically.

"Let's continue playing chess."

"Ah."

……

Recycling station, new warehouse.

Gage, Xiong Er, and others secretly moved the "Baron" mech to a new warehouse and reassembled it.

A six-meter-tall steel behemoth stands in the center of the warehouse, its top almost touching the ceiling.

After Gage installed the battery backplate, the indicator lights in the cockpit lit up one by one.

He climbed into the cockpit and tried to start it, but apart from a series of error codes flashing on the screen, the mech did not respond at all.

"Sigh, it still doesn't work."

He sighed helplessly: "Maybe I'm just too sensitive; I can't even meet the initial conditions for activation."

Hua Xin volunteered: "Then I'll give it a try!"

"Stop messing around," Watson tried to stop her.

"I am not human!"

Taking advantage of her status as a cat-person, she was more resilient than ordinary people and nimbly slipped into the cockpit.

"Be careful." Watson had a bit of a headache.

"If I can control it, I can apply a cherry blossom pink coating!"

She connected to the neural link, and a searing current instantly coursed through her body, making her head buzz.

She felt as if her brain was about to be cooked, and the word "danger" appeared on her forehead.

"Well--!"

She let out a scream, her whole body trembling slightly.

Gage was startled and quickly cut off the power. Watson then dragged her out of the cockpit.

Hua Xin's eyes were closed; she had already lost consciousness.

A burnt smell emanated from her head and back, and a tuft of cat fur was curled and charred.

Watson quickly checked her breathing and examined her pupils. He breathed a sigh of relief after finding that she had only fainted temporarily.

Gage stood to the side, filled with self-reproach: "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let her try it."

"It's not your fault, it's good to teach her a lesson."

Watson shook his head and carefully carried her to the makeshift bed next to him.

Thanks to the mutant's healing factor, Hua Xin was able to get out of bed after resting for a few hours.

The bald patch on her head made her feel bad for a long time, and she never dared to mention the cherry blossom pink coating again.

Looking at the immobilized mecha, Xiong Er couldn't help but sigh, "Your boss is something else, buying back a piece of trash."

Watson gritted his teeth and asked Xiong Er, "How much does a complete cockpit core cost?"

"A cracked version costs at least one million gold coins, and it's practically priceless."

Watson fell silent and brought up another matter.

"The boss's condition has stabilized. Has the virtual pod been tested?"

Gage nodded: "We're connecting to the Morisaka Network, but since it's a clandestine connection, it'll take a little longer."

That night, Gage and Watson carefully placed Zhuang Fan into the virtual reality pod.

The interior of the cabin is lined with a gel cushion that perfectly conforms to the body's curves.

After the hatch closed, the neural connectors extended from the inner wall and pierced the back of Zhuang Fan's head and spine.

Gage turned on the power, connected to the Morihan Networks server, and started reading the virtual world "Sin City".

Two hours later, Chu Ningyan requested to communicate.

"How's it going?"

Watson truthfully reported: "The connection was successful, but the boss is not responding. Let's wait a little longer."

"it is good"

At the top of the clock tower, Xiong Er was smoking.

He suddenly sensed something was wrong, his alertness instantly heightened, and he instinctively lay down.

"call out--!"

Almost at the same instant, a sniper bullet grazed his head and left a bullet hole in the wall.

Immediately afterwards, sniper bullets came from different directions, pinning him firmly behind cover.

The other watchtower where Hua Xin was located also suffered the same intense firepower suppression.

In the night sky, three of the six patrol drones exploded instantly, turning into fireballs and crashing to the ground.

Xiong Er grabbed the communicator and shouted.

"Enemy attack!"

　From now on, I'll combine two chapters into one, each 5 words long, which will make writing smoother.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)