People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

The Preservator's planet-like pupils slowly moved, landing on an unremarkable corner of the silent sarcophagus complex. Then, as if pierced by the tip of a neutron pulse, the mechanical giant eye averted its gaze as if fleeing.

The Preservator's program had told him countless times that the hibernation device contained only a lifeless but not decaying mass of flesh, but Trevor Friston still refused to look directly at it.

Even the most perfect machines and programs have unknown bugs; similarly, there is always a soft spot in a person's heart.

Perhaps escaping is indeed shameful, but it is also indeed useful.

Let's consider this as reducing the burden on the emotion regulation module of this shaky consciousness. For tens of thousands of years, the frequency of this module's collapse has been far too high, so high that even the [Preserver] doesn't know whether it is regulating itself or repairing it.

I will continue to wait. The Preservator's mission may have ended, but as Trevor Friston, "human," only utter death can bring my mission to a close. I will wait until that day comes.

[This record is now complete. Preserved by Trevor Friston.]

Terminate the recording process, and the Preservator, as usual, raises his pupils and casts his gaze at the ceiling, which is always lit by dim lights.

The light was specially designed and adjusted by Trevor Friston himself before he entered the sarcophagus, to ensure that his compatriots, who were awakening from their long sleep, would not be harmed by the overly bright light. But at this moment, the dim light could only remind Trevor Friston of the dim light in the morgue of a social service institution called a funeral home in ancient times.

Trevor Friston had never been there, but he was there now.

A long silence hung in the air of the stasis chamber. Just as Trevor Friston was about to break the visual link and enter standby mode, the dim light suddenly underwent an unexpected change!

The eternally still place, the eternal resting place of humankind (the Creator), its dim light suddenly turned scarlet, glaring, and unsettling.

Trevor Friston’s mind went blank for a moment. He knew what this meant—something was trying to force its way into the stasis chamber!

In a fraction of a second, Trevor Friston's computing system came to this conclusion: his heart was beating faster than it had in a million years, even though he no longer had that organ.

However, it only took a moment, no more than a moment of excitement, before the repaired emotion regulation module dutifully performed its function. The power of forced calm quickly controlled his unimaginable emotional fluctuations, making him realize the mistake in his excitement—no, that's not right, what came was not human!

The Stasis Center, a bunker built three thousand meters underground, employed every means available to the then-struggling human civilization. Its sturdiness was beyond doubt. To destroy it, one would have to have Ed's Heaven's Fulcrum fire an all-annihilating beam directly from near-Earth orbit!

This is to prepare for potential plate tectonics, possible meteorite impacts, the activity of potentially awakened behemoths, and unpredictable damage caused by stagnation.

But ultimately, it's not meant to protect against people.

Humans can enter the Stasis Chamber. Those who were originally in the Terra star system—the Prophet, Priscilla, Trevor Friston, Lo, and Ed—have all entered their identification codes into each other's projects to ensure that if one project succeeds, the others can also use it smoothly. In addition, some special servants with a human civilization background, such as the small, dark green-haired servant—ama-10—created by Priscilla and the Prophet during their romantic time, can also be authorized to enter.

The entry of these people will not affect the normal operation of the stasis chamber. The lights here will not change color, and the warning reminders will not be repeatedly played in his mind, the central brain.

If it's not human, then what is it?

The observer? No, the observer has no physical form, not to mention that countless years have passed since its extinction. How could its gaze be directed at a lifeless grave?

A behemoth or a beast lord? No, it shouldn't be either. Trevor Friston has already activated the observation around the Stasis Center, and the machine approaching the Stasis Center—he'll tentatively call that thing, which is even simpler than a child's toy, a machine—is far inferior in energy level to a behemoth, or even a decorative beast lord.

So what is this thing? What is it trying to do? Even if it crashes into the outer wall of the stasis chamber and causes an explosion, it probably won't have any impact on the stasis chamber, right?

Trevor Friston manually turned off the alarm and watched the thing approaching the stasis chamber through the monitor.

Instead of immediately slapping the unexpected visitor to death, he began to observe her movements.

A bored giant began to observe the insects that had accidentally wandered into his castle.

Fortunately, this giant was gentle enough.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Christensen, who had spent over a month sneaking off to Rembiton to self-study his drilling rig license, jumped off the drilling rig he had bought, dusted himself off, took off the hard hat that wasn't quite friendly to his big ears, and looked up at the building in front of him that seemed to be embedded in the earth.

The passage of time left not a single trace on its exterior walls. The seamless structure made it impossible to discern the building's construction principles. Moreover, Christen's plan to retrieve a sample of material from the wall for analysis using a drill from the drilling machine failed. This Rhein-made drill, which even Nasti praised as excellent, broke down at an astonishing rate. On that wall, there wasn't even a trace of white paint, let alone a hole.

It looks like it's scratching an itch.

It might not even be as good as scratching an itch.

"Tsk!"

Christen clicked her tongue in amazement. She had gone to great lengths, transferring the research team away from this area, studying archaeology on her own, obtaining archaeology certificates, excavator certificates, and drilling machine licenses, all by herself, to dig three thousand meters underground. She wasn't here to stare blankly at a wall that looked like a tortoise shell!

Now is not the time to be discouraged. Try a few more times! Find a few more methods! If Mariam is right, then the mysterious signal beneath Tremont, which corresponds to the Star-Picking Project, should have originated from this unprecedented fortress, which has not been recorded in any documents!

The biggest achievement of Project Star-Picking, the recording from the barrier layer, was stolen by Saria. Kristen was furious, but she was powerless because she couldn't beat Saria.

But if I can't beat Saria, can't I at least beat a wall?

This is the last and thickest wall between her and the sky, between her and the universe, between her and the stars. She will definitely find a way!

Having made up her mind, Christensen did not linger there for long. She put her helmet back on, climbed onto the drilling rig, fastened her safety harness, started up the cutting-edge Columbia technology, and left the bunker.

The drilling mission has been accomplished; she has indeed found the source of the suspected mysterious signal. As for how to break through the wall, she can plan that another time.

Anyway, she had plenty of time and only needed to keep thinking about how to break through the wall. However, Seria, who stayed in Rhine Life, had many more things to consider, such as how to deal with the questioning of the members of parliament, how to find Christen, and how to open a branch in Sherag. These were all troublesome matters.

It can only be said that people who don't go to work are indeed arrogant, and those who dare to skip work are certainly prepared to die if they get caught.

Hmm, let's prepare some explosives first. A small amount probably won't work, but a large amount is a bit hard to find. Or maybe we should just set up a whole explosives lab in our spare time and make them by hand.

For Christensen, this was not difficult; all that was needed was time and to ensure the secrecy of the laboratory.

They can't be discovered by the Colombian police, or their magazines might be emptied. They also can't be discovered by Saria, or she might not even have the chance to have her magazines emptied.

"It's already the New Year, but I hope I can still make it. I promised Ernst I'd go to Shelag in February."

Christen muttered to herself.

She was equally concerned about the Dome Research Station project, and moreover, she was actually more interested in the other side than the mysterious signals here.

After all, no matter how mysterious the signal is, it is only suspected to be related to the sky. Even if she breaks through this wall and finds the source of the signal, she may only be able to indirectly obtain some information about the sky. The second phase of the Star-Picking Project and the Dome Research Station are her hard work and the towers where she can truly touch the stars with her own hands.

Failure once is nothing to worry about; Christensen is never afraid of failure. Besides, it wasn't even her who climbed the tower that time.

Let's start over!

"Ernst, wait for me to come back!"

With a fighting spirit ignited in his eyes, Christen stepped on the gas.

After Christen drove away with his little drilling machine with a rumble, all that remained was a pile of dirt and mud, and a bewildered "Preserver" who had witnessed Christen's actions the whole time.

"what is that?"

"Humanity?"

"But...why does she have those ears? And that tail, it looks so fluffy, like the animal friends we used to keep in Talos...it doesn't look like a hair accessory or some strange fashion item."

"Also, what was she muttering just now? What language was it?"

Too many questions lingered in my mind, but the logical chain of the [Preserver] had inevitably led to one fact:

A new language, a new image, and that rudimentary machine that had indeed dug its way here.

She may come from a new civilization.

A new civilization emerges after the catastrophe.

Trevor Friston's feelings were mixed for a moment.

The catastrophe that destroyed the previous civilization has passed, and a new civilization has been born; this seems like something to be happy about. It shows that the disaster did not extinguish the hope of civilization.

But he couldn't feel happy.

Indeed, the disaster did not completely destroy the concept of "civilization" itself. The lumberjack swung his giant axe and cut down a thick, ancient tree, but the branches that fell to the ground sprouted new buds after a spring rain. Such continuous life is truly moving.

But the disaster did indeed destroy them, destroying the tree that was them.

Watching the figure with long blonde hair disappear in front of the Stasis Chamber, Trevor Friston did not choose to activate the Chamber's weapon system to destroy this life that might disturb his and the tranquility of the "cemetery," nor did he call out to her.

He hesitated, wondering whether he should make contact with the explorers of this nascent civilization, as he was part of the planet's rich "history." Her actions looked like those of a grave robber kicking down a widow's door!

He hasn't come to an answer yet.

Let's continue to observe. It seems quite interesting to see her kick open a door that can never be kicked open.

It can help him alleviate the loneliness he has felt for the past million years.

Chapter 500 Ivangelista XI: Sorry, I'm a meal replacement

January 1, 1095, Lateran, Papal Palace.

Today is the first day of the new year. Early in the morning, Ivangelista XI noticed that his office in the Papal Palace was almost completely covered with gifts.

In addition to the gifts from the Papal Knights, Cardinals of the Papal Court, and Secretaries, there were also many New Year's gifts from important figures from other countries and other forces.

This situation is not uncommon. After all, the modern Terran calendar begins with the erection of the Revelation Stone by the Lateran saints. Over the past 1095 years, every pope, whether radical or moderate, progressive or conservative, has undoubtedly adhered to the Lateran principle of "neutrality." This reputation they have cultivated for Lateran over the millennia is enough to earn Lateran a precious amount of trust and goodwill in this land.

Having been pope for over a decade, Pope Ivangelist XI has grown accustomed to this time of year. Normally, he would select a few gifts that he finds interesting but not too valuable to open—such as limited-edition snacks and desserts, a very useful beard balm, and greeting cards from close friends.

As for the remaining, more valuable gifts, he would instruct the Papal Court to organize a small internal auction to sell them for credits. These credits would then be used to provide discounts to dessert shops throughout the city during the holidays, or as prize money for the Papal Court's annual dessert competition.

If there is anything left over after that, King Ivangelista XI will donate it for charitable purposes.

Lateran boasts thousands of charitable foundations across the land, spanning Columbia, Ursus, Letania, and Victoria, providing basic necessities for tens of thousands of children, the elderly, and the disabled. Therefore, even Ursus, a military empire known for its xenophobia and barbarity on Terra, often holds Lateran monks in some respect within its borders. At least, if you say you are a Sarkaz from Lateran, the chances of the military or police using violence against you will be greatly reduced, and they might even charge you fewer rubles when exploiting you.

Of course, Lateran is not without reward. Such charitable organizations are organized, and for leaders of many countries, their existence is actually a "hidden church" of Lateran, a despicable tool to seduce their people into believing in Lateran religion and to expand Lateran's influence.

King Ivangelist XI never offered any explanation for this.

He was too lazy to talk, because those people didn't deserve to listen.

The Sarkaz are good-tempered, not without temper. When they speculate with the utmost malice whether a nation of no more than one city is plotting against the entire Terra, why don't they consider who made it so that their people can't even get a bite to eat and have to turn to the Lateran church and the relief organizations they fund?

Some people are full of ideals, some are realistic, some talk about principles but are only interested in business, and some remain silent and serve the people in a down-to-earth manner. But Pope Ivangelist XI knows that the hearts of the vast majority of ordinary people are not so complicated.

As long as I'm full, that's fine.

If eating Lateran's food and using Lateran's things means they've become Lateran's spies, then Originium should be ruling this land now. After all, perhaps some people have never eaten camel meat, but it's impossible for someone to be in Terra without using Originium.

King Ivangelista XI does not deny that these charities do play a role in expanding Lateran's influence, but that's about it. Just as Andorn accused him of criticizing Lateran, such organizations are far from being salvation. Exaggerating the threat, conflating genuine charities and borderless organizations with those with ulterior motives—that's just going too far.

However, King Ivangelista XI was also somewhat puzzled by the abundance of gifts piled up on the table.

"To be honest, I've always had a slight doubt as to whether Ernst received more gifts than I did this year."

Without any sarcasm, Ivangelista XI was genuinely puzzled.

Why? Because there were just too few gifts this year.

In previous years, when he opened the door, the gifts he received would fill his room, perhaps even forming a tower. But this year? They barely covered his desk; there's a significant difference.

Have those who sent him gifts in previous years forgotten this year?

King Evangelista XI did not believe that figures like the Duke of Caesar, Kent (husband of the Duke of Windermere), Russell (Grand Master of the Knights of Casimir), and Wilson (Vice President of Colombia) would be so "forgetful." If they didn't give him their gifts, then they must have given them to someone else.

Who else could it be given to? Is that even a question?

King Ivangelista XI spread his hands and joked with his old cavalry friends who had come to help carry the gifts:

"I never thought that Lateran would ever become outdated."

Beneath the old cavalryman's lifted mask, a hint of helplessness lingered in his smile:

"There's nothing we can do. Your Holiness the Pope is getting old and losing your looks; you're not attractive enough anymore."

“I think I’ve taken pretty good care of myself,” King Ivangelista XI said, stroking his beard in surprise.

Gun Rider shrugged: "But he's a genuine top player in Terra. You're just a substitute for Prime Minister Ernst at best, or as young people say these days, a meal replacement!"

"Meal replacement...?"

King Ivangelista XI clutched his heart, looking somewhat hurt, and even the halo above his head seemed to dim a little.

Although he was unwilling to admit it, it seemed to be the truth. Terra's attention always had a limit. Compared to Sherag, Laterano hadn't produced anything good for too long. It could barely maintain its popularity and perhaps retreat to the second line with dignity thanks to its years of accumulated popularity. If it really wanted to compete with the newly emerging super idol Snow Leopard for the top spot, it would probably just be handing over all its limited traffic to Snow Leopard.

However, jokes aside, although the rise of Sherag did indeed take away some of Lateran's ecological niche to some extent, Ivangelista XI did not have much of a negative attitude towards Ernst.

After all, although the World Summit is held in Sherag, Lateran is also a co-organizer. They certainly won't get a chance for the first one, which is of great significance, but in the future, the second, the third... the 10086th, there will always be an opportunity!

Look, the place in Shelag is covered in snow for most of the year, but Lateran is different. It's truly "sweet with milk and honey in the air." It's nice to change things up once in a while. Ernst and he are good friends despite their age difference. He thinks highly of this young man, and I'm sure he understands and agrees.

Furthermore, even from the perspective of pure contribution, Lateran brought in two major powers, Letania and Yan, to the World Summit. How could Snow Leopard ignore this contribution?

Moreover, as the Pope and the only "saint" of the Lateran Church in the present day, he does have a small amount of influence in this land. If he and Ernst are together, it will be mutually beneficial; if they are apart, it will be mutually harmful. Ernst is not blind to this.

"Dudu-"

The sudden alarm sounded in the office, and King Ivangelista XI froze in his act of unwrapping the gift. His hand hung in mid-air, and his thoughts, forcibly pulled back from their reverie, paused for a moment, as if he were somewhat bewildered.

The musketeer blinked, somewhat stunned:

"What kind of alarm is this? I didn't receive any notification about the exercise, and besides..."

Moreover, the Pope himself was right next to him. There's no reason why the Pope wouldn't know if something happened.

"Your Majesty, you are aware of what happened..."

Before the musketeer could finish speaking, Ivangelista XI's expression suddenly hardened. He shook his head at the musketeer and pointed to his feet.

"[Law]".