Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

Chapter 155 Cecilia: How can we protect the Earth while surrounded by these insects?

In the rooftop revolving restaurant in Manhattan, New York, crystal chandeliers reflect a soft, warm light.

The Locke family sat around the dining table, and the conversation naturally turned to Mark's early awakening of his superpowers.

Debbie held her wine glass, her eyes brimming with undisguised pride—she knew better than anyone that becoming a hero like his father was a dream etched into Mark's bones since childhood.

"Really? That's great, Mark!" She put down her cup and reached out to ruffle her son's hair.

"Thank you, Mom." Mark smiled, put down his knife and fork, and turned his gaze to Locke, who was sitting at the head of the table. His tone was particularly serious. "But more important than my affairs is that Grandpa is back, which is the most worth celebrating."

Facing the most important moment of his life, he remained far calmer than Debbie had imagined. This maturity beyond his years warmed Debbie's heart, and her eyes welled up with tears.

But Nolan, sitting next to her, was a completely different person.

His knife and fork hovered in mid-air, his eyes vacant as he stared at the steak in front of him, not touching it once, his face filled with an indescribable melancholy. It wasn't until Debbie gave him a light kick under the table that he snapped out of his reverie.

"Ah—that's great." He forced a smile, his tone somewhat unsteady. "We can start training tomorrow and do what you've always wanted to do."

"Dad, there's really no need to rush."

Old Ma, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up. He looked up at Nolan, and the father and son both had the same complex emotions in their eyes.

He knew all too well what his father was thinking at that moment: the choice he had to make between Witrum's mission and the warmth of family.

He put down his cup and repeated, word by word, with a meaningful tone, "We can take it slowly."

Nolan's grip on the knife and fork tightened suddenly, deforming them, then he released them, straightening them. He slowly nodded and replied, "Yes, we can take it slowly."

Locke, engrossed in swirling the Burgundy in his wine glass, had already consumed a whole month's worth of Nolan's travelogue royalties.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingertips tapping casually on the rim of his glass, coldly observing the undercurrents at the table, while also having his own thoughts.

The dinner, which was supposed to celebrate Mark's awakening of his superpowers and a family reunion, was eerily quiet.

The warm light of the crystal chandelier fell on everyone's faces, but it couldn't penetrate their eyes, which held their own secrets. Only the occasional soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates was particularly clear in the empty private room.

Debbie held her water glass, her fingertips lightly tracing the rim. She clearly sensed something was amiss, her gaze sweeping over the three men, each with their own hidden agendas, but ultimately said nothing.

She quietly refilled everyone's water, suppressing all her doubts and worries. As long as the family could still sit together like this, some things could be taken slowly.

Things will get better.

"Dad, we can find you a house nearby. You don't need to live in the garage."

In the entryway, Debbie took out her keys to open the door while looking back at Locke, her tone full of concern.

Locke reached out and took the coat from her hand, his movements natural and gentle, but his tone was firm and his attitude unwavering: "It's okay, Debbie, I can take care of myself. Rather than moving out, I'd rather stay with you. I've already missed twenty years of you, and I don't want to miss any more moments with you."

19

These words brought tears to Debbie's eyes, and she could no longer object. She could only nod and agree to clean out the garage for him to use.

"Okay, then I'll help you—"

"No need," Locke waved his hand. "I've gotten used to living alone all these years, and I can do everything by myself. But if you're worried, lend me Mark for a while. I want to have a good chat with this young man."

As he finished speaking, he slowly turned his head and looked at Mark.

That gaze was calm and unwavering, yet it instantly saw right through Mark, from head to toe. Mark felt a chill run down his spine, the hairs on his body stood on end, and cold sweat instantly seeped into his palms.

His heart skipped a beat, and he realized something.

Oh no, they've found out.

"Of course, no problem!"

Compared to their eye contact, Debbie smiled brightly, completely unaware of the strange atmosphere between them. She nudged Mark's arm.

"Go quickly, it's a good opportunity for you to spend more time with Grandpa."

"Uh—of course."

Mark forced a smile that looked more like a grimace and nodded.

"I also really want to talk to my grandfather more."

Locke nodded slightly, ignoring Mark's smile that was even more unpleasant than bitter, and turned to pull Mark toward the garage.

"Alright, come with me."

As Mark followed Locke into the garage, the light from the entryway fell on the two of them. Nolan and Debbie exchanged a glance, both seeing unconcealed worry in each other's eyes.

"Are you alright?" Debbie asked softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

Nolan's heart skipped a beat, his eyes instinctively darting away to the closed garage door. But he quickly recovered, took a deep breath, and forced a smile, though his tone betrayed a barely perceptible tension: "What problem could I possibly have? It's just that Mark's superpowers awakened so suddenly, I wasn't prepared. And compared to that, your dad's problem seems much bigger."

Debbie followed his gaze to the garage and nodded slightly, tacitly agreeing with him.

But she quickly turned her head again, looking earnestly into Nolan's eyes, her tone tinged with a hint of probing and concern: "I admit, my dad has changed a lot from how I remember him, but today it's not just him who makes me feel this way, it's you too, and Mark too. You two—did you have a fight? Did something happen?"

Nolan sighed deeply, his thoughts exposed. He didn't answer, but stared blankly in the direction of the garage. After a long while, he said in a low, almost weary voice, "It's nothing, just—just some things about Witrum, nothing more. It has nothing to do with your father, it's not—anything personal."

Meanwhile, Old Ma was half-dragged, half-pulled into the garage by Locke. Looking at the completely unfamiliar scene before him, he reached out and touched the gleaming metal walls, then looked up at the brand-new ventilation ducts on the ceiling, his face filled with disbelief: "Wow—although I haven't been home in a long time, wasn't the garage in my memory a run-down place piled with old bicycles and Christmas decorations? How come it looks completely renovated?"

Locke didn't say anything, but simply reached out and pressed the seemingly ordinary wrench on the workbench.

The next second, the perfectly sealed cement floor silently cracked open to both sides, revealing a metal staircase leading underground, with cold white light shining through the deep passage.

"Not pretending anymore? Fine, I was prepared for you to switch identities anyway, whatever, let's go."

Caught red-handed, Old Ma scratched his head sheepishly. He had just taken a step when he suddenly stopped, looked at Locke, and his voice rose eight octaves: "Wait! Something's not right! You've been with us almost the entire day! When did you dig such a huge hole???"

"Don't worry about such trivial matters." Locke walked down the street without turning his head, his tone as indifferent as if he were saying, "The weather is nice today."

Seeing this, Old Ma had no choice but to follow Grandpa Locke into the basement. He was immediately speechless at the sight before him.

The basement was far larger than he had imagined; it was bigger than his entire house, and judging by the several passageways extending outwards, it seemed that even the foundations of his neighbors' houses had been dug up.

Various instruments he couldn't name were neatly arranged, and there was even a small kitchen and bathroom in the corner.

Before he could even utter a word of reflection, he saw a young man dressed in his blue-black battle suit sitting cross-legged on the soft sofa in the living room area, holding a double beef burger from the burger supermarket in one hand and a game controller in the other, engrossed in a game on the screen, looking quite relaxed.

Hearing footsteps, Little Pony looked up, his mouth still stuffed with a hamburger, and waved indistinctly, "Hi! Grandpa Locke! And the other me! You're back?"

Locke didn't even lift an eyelid at Xiao Ma's greeting. He strode over, reached out and slammed the power off the game console, the screen instantly going black. Before Xiao Ma could even swallow his hamburger in protest, he had already turned around and dragged two silver-gray metal cases from under the worktable, his tone leaving no room for argument: "No time to explain. You two, stand over there and get ready. I need to do a test."

As soon as he finished speaking, he opened the box and began disassembling the equipment with lightning speed.

Various intricate circuits, gears, and displays were rapidly assembled in his hands like building blocks. The screwdriver spun rapidly at his fingertips, and the crisp sounds of metal clashing echoed throughout. The parts that were originally scattered all over the floor were assembled into a uniquely shaped scanner in just over ten seconds.

Little Horse, with half a hamburger still in his mouth, stared wide-eyed at Old Horse beside him. Neither of them dared to speak, and could only obediently stand in their designated spots, watching Locke bustling around.

"alright."

Locke straightened up, pointed the assembled instrument at the two men, pressed the switch, and a pale blue beam of light instantly swept across the two Marks' bodies. The instrument screen began to display a dense array of data rapidly.

Locke stared at the frantically flashing red warning data on the screen for a full three seconds, then slapped himself hard across the face with a loud crack, cursing, "Fuck!"

"What's wrong? What happened?" The two Marks came over at the same time, their hearts skipping a beat.

Locke lowered his hand, his face expressionless, a numb sense of relief remaining. He held up two fingers and waved them in front of the two men: "Now there are two pieces of news. Which one would you like to hear first?"

"Bad news." Old Ma blurted out almost immediately, and Locke, anticipating the other's reaction, spoke with an eerily calm tone.

"The bad news is that your body's molecules have a severe rejection reaction with this spacetime. You must leave here within three months at most, or you will die an extremely painful death."

The air froze the moment the words were spoken.

Old Ma lowered his head without saying a word, his hands clenched tightly until his knuckles turned white, and after a long while, he let them relax weakly.

Looking at his slumped shoulders, Xiao Ma's heart sank, and she asked worriedly, "Then—what's the good news?"

Locke looked up at him, a glint of something unfathomable flashing in his eyes.

"The good news is, I have a solution."

The evening breeze, carrying the dampness of the night dew, swept through the community, scattering a few fallen leaves from the trees along the street. With a rustling sound, two figures swept through the air.

"To be honest, I kind of regret it."

As Old Ma, having changed back into his black battle suit, searched for his mission target in the parallel world, he couldn't help but keep an eye on Little Ma, who was wearing brand-new armor, his tone filled with melancholy.

Just then, Locke's emotionless voice came through the headset, carrying an undisguised coldness: "Want it now? Too late. First, go and complete your mission properly. One more thing, cross-dimensional communication consumes a lot of energy. I'm hanging up now. Solve any problems yourself."

As soon as he finished speaking, all that could be heard in his earpiece was the crackling of static. The two Marks exchanged a glance and simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

Xiao Ma touched his brand-new armor, his tone carrying a youthful sincerity: "To be honest, although Grandpa Locke seems cold and unapproachable, he's actually quite easy to talk to. He doesn't have the aloof and uncommunicative feeling I imagined at all."

Hearing this, Old Ma shuddered, his face instantly showing lingering fear. He leaned closer to Little Ma, lowered his voice, and said in a serious tone of someone who had been through it all, "Indeed, but remember one ironclad rule—absolutely, absolutely never provoke Grandpa Locke when he's drunk. Trust me, you'll never want to know what will happen."

Back in the main world, Locke checked the operating parameters of the interdimensional teleporter and casually picked up the prototype teleportation gun that was on the workbench.

A pale blue energy flow gathered at the muzzle of the gun, and a stable spatial portal slowly unfolded in front of him. Behind the portal was a chaotic stream of light. He didn't turn around, but stepped inside. The portal then closed silently, as if it had never existed.

The entire garage fell silent instantly.

Only the star engine in the corner, which powers the entire base, emits a cold, eerie blue light in the darkness, its core constantly circulating energy like a sleeping star.

Meanwhile, in the Global Defense Agency's command center, the lights were on. Cissell stared at the mission report he had just printed out, his brows furrowed into a deep frown, his fingertips tapping heavily on the table as he looked at Donald standing opposite him.

"So, Locke Kent was indeed confirmed dead twenty years ago? The body we found back then wasn't a false alarm, right?"

"Yes, sir." Donald pushed up his glasses, his tone as rigid as a robot. "We cross-checked all the files three more times. The DNA comparison results are correct, and the fingerprint match is 100%. It can be confirmed that Locke Kent was officially declared dead twenty years ago, and that body is his."

Cecil, already suffering from a splitting headache, finally snapped after listening to this succinct and utterly nonsensical literary piece. He whirled around, his finger almost piercing through the large screen behind him, which was frozen on the image of Locke punching Nolan into the lunar surface.

"Then tell me the fuck!" His voice boomed through the empty command center. "Where the hell did this guy who suddenly appeared, who could beat Omniknight to a pulp and knock out Immortal in one hit, come from?!"

Donald opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word, and could only stand there awkwardly.

Seeing his expression, Cisel couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. He leaned against the edge of the table, rubbing his throbbing temples, his eyes filled with despair and exhaustion. When would they ever learn to stop blaming everything on themselves? How could they protect the Earth while surrounded by these insects?

The echoes of Cissell's curses still reverberated in the command center when a cautious knocking sounded at the door.

"Come in!" he roared irritably, his chest heaving violently.

His new secretary walked in, her face pale with fright, the folder in her hand clenched so tightly it was deformed. She lowered her head, her voice barely audible, yet it boomed like thunder in the room: "Director...Director—the earthquake expert has been kidnapped!"

"?"

'

The rage on Cissell's face froze instantly.

He abruptly turned to look at his secretary, his eyes wide like saucers. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but his throat seemed blocked, and he couldn't utter a single word. The anger that had been surging just moments before was instantly extinguished by a chilling coldness.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, waved his hand, and said in a hoarse voice, "Pull up all the surveillance footage from the scene. I want to see who did it."

The images on the big screen rapidly changed, finally settling on the scene of Dr. Earthquake being imprisoned. A dark blue portal appeared out of nowhere without warning, and a hand wearing a black glove reached out from inside the portal, grabbed Dr. Earthquake by the back of his collar, and dragged him inside in the blink of an eye.

>