There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

And that's where the worst part is.

This medication cannot cure the disease, but it will temporarily prevent death. Therefore, we can only rely on gene therapy to maintain our health—aside from poverty, there are no incurable diseases in this world.

The remnants of the tribe and the forces of the Sharp Vision Alliance suffered heavy losses. Everyone huddled in the trenches, trembling all over. They had just recovered a little and looked just like pilots going through drug withdrawal. Only Gray was left holding his weapon and guarding the front line.

The thermal imaging returned by the nanomachines showed that the heat emanating from his body was as dazzling as a solar prominence eruption. He was forcibly suppressing the symptoms of infection with his extremely rapid metabolism, undertaking the last line of defense.

No matter the adversity, Gray never seemed to back down.

But it was pointless for him to do so, because everyone on the other side was already down. The eight forces that intervened later were now all paralyzed on the ground, breathing heavily with pained expressions, just like Chief Sakam of the Scorpion Yakan tribe next to me, with large beads of sweat constantly sliding down his face.

Although the Slaughter Squad lacks pain receptors, the nanomachine infection does not change due to subjective factors. On the contrary, the lack of pain receptor feedback makes it impossible for them to slow down the infection through rejection reactions—originally, these functions were accomplished by tactical chips implanted in the brain, but now they have been completely destroyed by the nanomachine cluster.

The other human federations of Aim, Andenavara, and the Iron Alliance were in similar situations, all rendered combat ineffective. Destruction is always easier than construction, and it's unknown how long it will take for the damage sustained in just over ten minutes to fully heal.

The soldiers sent by the Meto Empire were slightly better; they had a large number of implanted artificial organs and special modifications in their bodies, resulting in less biomass that could be destroyed.

But this doesn't mean they were unaffected, because the soldiers among them who had had vital organs like their hearts modified died instantly on the spot...

"Where is Bertholdt? Find him quickly!!"

The fact that the culprit hasn't been found makes me extremely uneasy. From the moment he deceived Sakam into carrying out this genocidal plan, he committed a crime against humanity worthy of execution for three hundred years, and that's a sentence that cannot be reduced or pardoned.

From scheming against other tribes to save himself from extinction, to nearly wiping out all life in the biosphere, his actions are logically rigorous and skillfully executed, yet they are so utterly inhumane as to defy common sense.

But it's just so confusing, whose side is he on? Before Trump made his move, at least he knew to shout "Let the rice grains be great again," but this guy... could he really be a Trisolaran spy?!

Bertholdt has discovered that the device is currently inside the gravity tuning facility on the planet 'Atlas'.

"Here we go again! Can't you send the nanobots up and kill him? I can't sleep or eat until he's gone!" I said through gritted teeth.

But Sharon Whitestone's answer disappointed me.

[I apologize, Mr. Marcus. My control over the Astra planetary ecosystem management system prevents me from attacking authorized users. Furthermore, according to the system's user agreement, I am even obligated to ensure the user's safety and repair any fatal injuries.]

I punched the control panel in disappointment.

Sharon Whitestone mastered the system, which was similar to becoming a machine. After the Omnic Crisis, all machines must strictly abide by the Three Laws of Robotics, serving their users without harming them.

What's most infuriating is that Bertholdt's information happens to be on the system's user list...

Wait!

This is no coincidence at all; he must have planned it all along!

He was seriously injured and pretended to be dead to deceive me, while Sakam was responsible for activating the machine so that these nanobots could be released to quickly heal his injuries!

If nothing unexpected happens, the only survivors of this calamity in this world, besides the wise chieftain who has been missing for many years and whose fate is unknown, are this dog manager!

This guy... does he want to become the new world's Kami?

"Sharon Whitestone, how long until I can return to the surface?"

[26 minutes and 13 seconds.]

"Is there a way to connect to Bertholdt's location?"

[This system does not support the external transmission of virtual images, but I can use a cluster of nanomechanical devices to build a Dolby Digital surround sound system to transmit your voice in real time.]

What does my father usually use this data terminal for?

Why are you so proficient in this completely meaningless skill?

"...Then hurry up! I'll sing him a fiery red song, 'Captain Sarilang'!"

…………

Benedict walked with difficulty through the snow-covered landscape, his steps uneven as he made his way towards the mountain peak.

The air here is thin, the temperature is extremely low, and the wind is howling. For this elderly man who had just recovered from a serious illness, it was an unimaginable road to death.

The nanomechanical clusters healed his internal and external injuries, stopping bleeding and infection, but for a severely damaged body, it was like adding a layer of protection; the internal ischemia and mechanical damage were not healed.

He is now extremely weak, and the nanomachines even need to actively transport oxygen into his lungs to repair frostbitten cells in order to prevent the last authorized user of the system from dying suddenly in the snow.

I watched him on the quantum screen, his face pale as he walked forward, panting, but his eyes were incredibly determined, not at all like a madman who had just committed a massacre.

"Stop, Bertholdt, you still have time to back down. I've already taken control of the 'Astra' planetary ecological management system, you have no more cards to play!"

My voice suddenly rang out out of nowhere, but Bertholdt only paused for a short while before giving the air a tired smile.

"I knew this wouldn't stump you. In the eyes of you space visitors, we're probably not much smarter than monkeys."

...No, actually I almost died at your hands. If all monkeys were as cunning as you, then the next volume of this book would be about Planet of the Apes.

I thought this to myself, but I couldn't show it out loud.

"Good that you understand. Everything you rely on is meaningless in my eyes. Quickly put down your gun and surrender! As long as you surrender to the Imperial Army, I guarantee you a lifetime of wealth and riches, with tons of gold!"

I was spouting nonsense, and I wasn't afraid that he would represent the Party and the people to execute me, this traitor.

However, Bertholdt's expression revealed a hint of longing, and he suddenly asked, "You must be a formidable force in space, right? When I sent people to court the Meto Empire and Andenavara, they all became extremely wary upon hearing the name of the 'Ancient' Group, while the Aim Human Federation and Tesienya resolutely rejected the plan to attack you from both sides..."

He accidentally stepped on a stone under the snow, stumbled, and fell to the ground, lying there in a sorry state. With a mixture of longing and self-mockery, he said, "To be feared by enemies and respected by allies, what a blissful thing... I wonder when the tribe will ever see that day..."

I couldn't help but complain, "You almost turned everyone into orange juice, and you still have a dream of a powerful nation?"

Bertholdt said with a serious expression, "You don't understand... Natural disasters and man-made calamities are not our enemies; ignorance is. Nanomachines transformed this entire world a thousand years ago, yet my ancestors regarded these unseen things as a curse of the sacred mountain, revering them for millennia, and almost perished while guarding this secret..."

He braced himself against the ground, trying to stand up, a sickly red flush appearing on his pale face. "Actually, even if you hadn't stopped me, I would have shut down this biosphere cleansing on my own... I just wanted to take this opportunity to weaken the enemies on the grasslands, I didn't intend to drag the tribe down with me... You just ended it a little earlier than expected... After all, I'm not some kind of demon..."

I suddenly shouted, "So that's why you deliberately provoked these armed forces here?!"

Bertholdt, still struggling with his aging and ailing body, spoke with a hint of helplessness: "They've wanted to drive the tribe out of here for a long time and seize this beautiful grassland. Even if I didn't provoke them, would they not come? Haha... They look down on us primitive people so much that they can't wait to settle scores with us just because of some simple provocations, conflicts, bribes, deception, and sowing discord..."

I said with a grim expression, "You should just give up... You'll only end up with a dead end!"

Upon hearing this, Bertholdt let out a low growl, slowly propped up his aged body, and once again stood tall in the snow and ice.

"Give up? Why should we give up?!"

His gray hair and beard bristled as he roared at me, whom he couldn't see at all: "These invaders are bullying us all the time! They're trying to drive us away! They want us dead! Is our tribe so deserving of death?! We are also members who descended from space. Our ancestors created this habitable planet, and we are the rightful owners of this land!"

His roar caused the air to tremble slightly, and it seemed as if the snow on the distant snow-capped mountains was being shaken down, triggering a sizable avalanche.

A thought flashed through my mind, but I suppressed the urge to kill him.

"That's all in the past. The fact that your technology has regressed over the past thousand years is undeniable..." I said sincerely. "In the rapidly changing world a thousand years from now, your so-called Promised Land will be meaningless. Without space exploration, everyone is just an ant; no one will acknowledge a vague and unattainable claim to ownership..."

Bertholdt dismissed my disheartened and cold remarks. He struggled to maintain his balance for a moment, then continued his firm steps up the mountain, his eyes filled with an unprecedented determination.

"Perhaps you're right, but we still have one last chance... I know the ancestral treasure isn't a shortcut, but a ladder to climb. The sacred mountain is the best opportunity; the tribe will surely rise again..."

Naive.

The Astra planetary ecological management system is a great thing, capable of influencing the planet's ecological environment, but it could also lead to attacks on tribes from space.

Like the Brown Pool tribe, they were so weak that they couldn't even keep their own food seeds, so how could the tribe possibly possess the divine artifact?

The Atlas planetary gravity tuning device, judging from its name, is just a device for adjusting the planet's gravity, and it's impossible for it to have any miraculous effects, right?

"If you're still here, please keep this old man company and have a chat."

After a moment of silence, it was Berthold who took the initiative to strike up a conversation with me.

"Let me tell you a story."

I did not reply, but Bertholdt, seemingly oblivious to the snow and ice, continued his narration, the only visible trace of white mist rising from his mouth, adding to the difficulty of his journey.

…………

Legend has it that before humans existed on Earth, two gods descended into the ocean on this planet.

After ten days and nights of submersion, the two brothers awoke and swam out of the sea. They walked to a grassland, sat back to back, and frowned at the wild land.

Atlas, the older brother, said that this place was not suitable for them to live, and that they should leave.

But the exhausted younger brother Astra said, "This place is only temporarily unsuitable for living, but I can turn it into our home."

After saying this, his younger brother Astra used his divine power to bury the poisonous gas and venom on the surface deep underground, driving the evil creatures into a dark and sunless cave.

Inspired by this, Atlas would wave his arms and rearrange the chaotic celestial bodies around the planet, making the oceans and gas fields stable and orderly.

Astra, the younger brother, said that this was not enough; he wanted to bring life back to the earth.

So the two brothers shook their bodies together, and countless parasites fell off and became animals, and skin flakes fell off and became plants, together transforming into the species that inhabit the earth.

Humans are among them. As fleas that have drunk the blood of the gods, they have become the rightful descendants of the gods and rule the earth.

Atlas, the elder brother, said, "I also want to give this place a gift, such as wisdom, abundance, and courage."

But his brother Atlas remained silent.

When Atlas turned his head, he saw that his tired brother, still looking up at the sky, had turned into a mountain and fallen into a deep sleep.

So the older brother hid the gift behind the star, leaned against his younger brother, and fell asleep. He planned to continue the conversation when he woke up again and give the gift to the humans on Earth.

…………

Isn't this story interesting?

Berthold finished recounting the myth, albeit haltingly. He slowed his pace again, panting heavily. The increasingly scarce oxygen at altitude was severely hindering his ascent, but he couldn't stop, because if he did, he wouldn't have the same good fortune as before to get back up.

I gleaned a lot from this myth, but after thinking about it for a long time, I suddenly guessed that Bertholdt must have thought of it as well, so he didn't mention it at all.

“It’s a really interesting story,” I replied.

He grinned and said, “When I was little, I liked to ask my parents before bed when my brother Atlas would wake up and bring us the presents. Would we no longer have to go hungry every day then? But my father would send me to sleep and then go out hunting. He would come back the next morning with the dew on his skin and bring back the game he had to eat.”

His expression slowly turned serious. "But one day, my mother and I waited all night for him to return, but he didn't come back. Later, the clansmen told me that my father had encountered armed forces from other groups while hunting and couldn't escape. As for whether he was killed, captured, or sold into slavery in town, no one could say for sure..."

"...Please accept my condolences."

I sighed inwardly. Regardless of whether the story was true or not, I could understand the significance a father has for his family.

Bertholdt took two steps forward with difficulty. "I'm sorry to have to trouble you. The old man just tends to ramble on... If you'd like to hear it, I can say a few more words."

"After my father disappeared, our lives were very hard... Hunger became a regular occurrence, and we couldn't avoid being beaten and scolded... Sigh... Until that man suddenly appeared, smiling as he told me that there was another version of the myth, and that if I became his student, he would tell me the story..."

Bertholdt, panting, climbed onto a large rock. "He told me the gift has always been there, but we just can't get it now. I asked him, 'Then why doesn't my brother Atlas give it to us?'"

“He said, Atlas’s things are right there…”

Bertholdt stood atop the snow-capped peak, gazing up at the azure sky. Suddenly, he removed a pendant from his neck and crushed it. Fragments mixed with blood dripped from his palm, slowly seeping into the pristine snow, leaving a gruesome crimson trail…

This is an early version of the bio-decoder, which can recompile permission factors.

"Bertholdt! What are you doing?!"