Ark Simulator, don't I have no physical form?

"Deal." Su Rui agreed immediately, seemingly not believing he would lose at all. He had absolute confidence in himself.

The competition began. They remained nestled together, as if they had simply shifted to a more advantageous shooting position. Suri held her half-encircled in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, his chin almost resting on the top of her head. Together, they faced the ever-moving "shooting range" beyond the city.

New Originium Bugs keep appearing. Perhaps they are attracted by the commotion in the city, or perhaps they are instinctively chasing this moving behemoth.

Suri's shooting style is highly personal. He pursues ultimate precision and a one-shot kill, aiming every shot at what he considers the most critical core or head. His arm is incredibly steady when he fires, with a cold, beautiful quality. He enjoys the feedback of the bullet piercing the armor, and after hitting the target, he lets out a very soft, satisfied breath from his nose, as if everything is under control.

“The third one,” he announced, his voice tinged with a reserved smugness.

Remian, on the other hand, seemed...more "practical." Her shooting was faster and more unconventional. Sometimes it was precise bursts, sometimes short bursts to block movement or destroy structures. She didn't always aim to kill her targets instantly, but rather to incapacitate them, ultimately letting them be swallowed or crushed by the moving city itself. When she fired, her body showed almost no recoil, as if she had accomplished something trivial with ease.

“Hmm, those two are too close together, let’s make them one target.” She said, pulling the trigger. The bullet cleverly passed through the gap between the two Originium Bugs and hit a loose rock behind them. The rock rolled down and knocked both Originium Bugs off the steep slope.

“Hey! That doesn’t count!” Suri protested.

“The rules don’t say we can’t use the environment,” Remy retorted confidently, even bumping his chest lightly with the back of her head to show that her protest was ineffective.

"Sophistry," Su Rui scoffed, but couldn't help a slight smile playing on his lips at her little gesture. He had to admit, watching her "play dumb" like this was quite amusing. He tightened his arms around her slightly and continued searching for his next target.

Volume 17, 971: The Sound of a Gun

The sounds of wind, the roar of the city, the crisp crack of gunfire, and the subtle clatter of Originium Bug shells mingled together. They nestled high above the mobile city, engaging in a game that was both intimate and fiercely competitive.

Suri would occasionally make a critical comment: "That one's color is disgusting," or "It's climbing so slowly, it's a complete waste of my bullets."

Remien would laugh and reply, "You're asking too much, Master Suri. They're just clumsy little bugs." Or, "Then don't hit them, leave them for me!"

They were both competitive and strangely in sync. Sometimes they would aim at the same target almost simultaneously, then engage in a quick, childish, and utterly harmless argument about who hit first. Suri insisted that her bullet had caused the fatal wound, while Remian insisted that her attack had played a crucial role. Other times, they would divide the work in perfect harmony, each taking one side to clear out threats approaching from different directions simultaneously.

Suri savored the feeling. A soft, warm body nestled in his arms, the faint, refreshing scent of her hair, different from the sweetness of icing sugar, lingering around his nose. He controlled the rhythm, displaying his proud skill, and could feel her presence and reactions at every moment. Every soft laugh, every slight snuggling against him from the recoil, filled him with pleasure. This pleasure even lessened his aversion to those ugly Originium worms.

He even started to deliberately slow down or choose more difficult targets, just to see how she would react, or to prolong the time they spent cuddling and competing.

Remian seemed to sense his subtle thoughts. During a brief pause in reloading, she turned her head slightly, her cheek almost brushing against his chin: "What's wrong? Is Young Master Suri tired? Would you like to rest for a bit and let me take the lead?"

“Dream on.” He retorted immediately, his subordinates moving even faster, firing three bursts in quick succession, shattering a newly emerged Originium Bug in the distance. “I’m just picking out more valuable targets, so that some people don’t try to compensate for a lack of quality with quantity.”

“Yes, yes, you have the best taste.” Remien nodded readily, her smile almost overflowing. She leaned into his arms, giving him almost half her weight, but her shooting posture remained steady.

As the sun gradually sank in the west, it painted the horizon a brilliant orange-red, and the metallic city skyline was edged with a warm gold. Their shadows stretched long behind them, overlapping and indistinguishable from one another.

Gunfire continued to ring out intermittently, adding a touch of noise to the twilight.

Suri counted his spoils while keeping a close eye on Remien. He was certain he was in the lead and had already begun to consider how to exercise his "winner's" rights that evening—perhaps he could ask her to watch that documentary he was interested in but she always found too boring? Or perhaps have her read something to him? In short, it had to be something she wouldn't usually agree to easily.

Just as he was pondering this, a swarm of small Originium bugs suddenly emerged from a crack in the ground, densely packed and rushing towards the edge of the city. They were small, fast, and numerous, making them quite troublesome to deal with.

"Troublesome." Su Rui clicked his tongue, adjusted his gun-holding posture, and prepared to quickly mow down the enemy.

"Watch this~" Remian chuckled and took the lead. She didn't aim at a single insect, but instead slightly raised the muzzle of her gun, calculated the lead, and fired continuously at an area in front of the swarm.

The bullets struck the hard rocky ground, sending up a shower of sparks and debris. Startled, the swarm of insects instinctively changed direction, huddling together in disarray, only to crash into a naturally formed rocky slope in front of the moving city's tracks. They struggled in vain, unable to overcome the obstacle, and were ultimately left behind by the city, growing ever more distant.

"Alright, all cleanup done," Remi'an said easily, putting away her gun.

Su Rui raised an eyebrow: "Isn't that considered taking a shortcut? You didn't kill a single one."

“But the problem is solved~” She turned around and finally looked at him directly, a smug smile on her face as if she had just pulled off a prank. The setting sun burned brightly in her eyes. “Besides, it was very efficient, wasn’t it? Did Young Master Su Rui want to shoot those little things one by one? That would be too tiring.”

He looked at her smiling face so close to his, her smug expression, her eyes more captivating than the sunset, and the criticism and rebuttal that had been on the tip of his tongue suddenly vanished. The arrogant, handsome young man pursed his lips, ultimately just letting out a snort, and roughly ruffled her hair.

"You're full of twisted logic."

But he didn't deny her words, nor did he insist on continuing the count. He simply put away his gun, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her back into his embrace, holding her tightly.

Whether there were still a few Originium Bugs approaching on the distant wasteland seemed no longer important. The outcome of the match also seemed ambiguous—perhaps he won, perhaps she used that last trick to win back the score, or perhaps it was simply a one-to-one tie.

But who cares at this moment?

Su Rui lowered his head, burying his face in the soft strands of her hair at the nape of her neck. He took a deep breath, the scent of her mingled with the cool evening air, which gave him a strange sense of satisfaction and calm. His previous willfulness, arrogance, and competitive spirit during the competition seemed to have melted away in this embrace.

Remy quietly let him hold her, her fingers gently gripping the fabric of his uniform back, a soft smile curving her lips.

The mobile city continued its roaring advance, leaving the sunset and the wasteland behind. They embraced high above, as if in their own little world, isolated from all the noise and disturbances, where only their breath and warmth were truly felt.

The lingering warmth of the setting sun had not yet completely faded from the metal deck, and Suri and Remian remained immersed in the tranquility of their intertwined scents. In the distance, city lights gradually illuminated the sky, like scattered diamonds in the deepening twilight. However, this peace did not last long.

A slightly hesitant footstep sounded from the passageway behind them, very light, yet enough to break the atmosphere of this small space.

Suri frowned almost immediately in displeasure, without turning his head, his voice carrying obvious arrogance and coldness from being disturbed: "Who is it? If you have nothing to do, get lost." He subconsciously shielded Remien behind him, even though the newcomer didn't seem to have any murderous intent.

Remien also turned slightly to look over Suri's shoulder, her lake-blue eyes filled with curiosity rather than wariness.

The newcomer was a Sarkaz. He wasn't particularly tall, dressed in coarse cloth clothes stained with mud, and his knuckles were large, clearly those of someone who had toiled for years. His face had the typical resolute features of a Sarkaz, but his eyes showed some weariness and worry, even a hint of caution that seemed incongruous with his strength. He didn't have any menacing horns on his head, only two small, seemingly incompletely grown protrusions, which made him appear less fierce than a typical Sarkaz, and more... incongruously gentle.

Volume 17, Chapter 972: Sorry to bother you.

“I’m very sorry to bother you both.” The Sarkaz man stopped, maintaining a polite distance, his voice low and hoarse. “I… I’m called Gardener, a gardener in the lower part of this mobile city. I have something I’d like to discuss with… with this Mr. Sarkaz.” His gaze fell on Suri’s conspicuous halo, his tone carefully chosen.

“A gardener?” Suri turned around, completely shielding Remy behind him. His critical gaze swept over the self-proclaimed gardener, Sarkaz, raising his eyebrows even higher. “Looking for me? Do we know each other?” His attitude clearly indicated “not interested” and “you’d better have a legitimate reason.”

The gardener seemed unsurprised by Suri's attitude. He merely gave a bitter smile, the smile revealing a faint, old scar at the corner of his mouth. "No, you don't know me. But I... I know you. Or rather, I know you have some connection with Mr. Andorn... and that Miss Remian." His gaze swept quickly and cautiously over Remian.

Upon hearing Andorn's name, Suri's eyes flickered slightly, but the impatience on her face did not lessen: "So?"

The gardener took a deep breath, as if he had made a great decision: "Please forgive my intrusion. I came here because... in this city, people like us are finding it increasingly difficult." He pointed to his Sarkaz features and then glanced meaningfully at the halos above Suri and Remian's heads.

“Us?” Suri caught the word.

“Yes, ‘we’,” the gardener’s voice was even lower, carrying an indescribable heaviness, “a hybrid of Sarkaz and Sarkaz.”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment. Suri's arrogant expression softened slightly, replaced by a hint of scrutiny. Remien gently took Suri's hand in return.

The gardener continued, his words like a floodgate bursting open, carrying long-suppressed anxiety: "This city nominally welcomes all races, but that's not the reality. Especially recently, due to some unexplained conflicts and rumors, the divide between the Sarkaz and Sarkaz residents has deepened. And we, who have blood from both sides flowing through our veins... we have nowhere to go." His voice was filled with helplessness. "The Sarkaz don't fully accept us, and the Sarkaz see us as outsiders, even traitors. We're caught in the middle, like extra parts. Discrimination, exclusion, even occasional violence... especially against those whose features are less distinct, or like me and my children, whose features are... rather strangely blended."

He touched his small horns: “We try to live a stable life, like me as a gardener, others doing odd jobs, but trouble always finds its way in. Children are isolated at school, adults are harassed at work... We are like shadows living in the cracks.”

Suri listened in silence; he wasn't entirely ignorant of such matters. Racial tensions were deeply entrenched on Terra, and mixed-race individuals often found themselves in the most awkward and dangerous situations. He simply rarely confronted such specific and subtle hardships directly. His social circle and arrogant nature habitually kept him away from these "troubles."

“You’re telling me all this,” Suri began, his voice calmer but still distant, “what do you want in return? Sympathy? Or do you think I can do something for you?” He didn’t see himself as obligated to act as a savior.

The gardener looked up, his eyes filled with an almost desperate hope: “Before Mr. Andorn left, he briefly helped some of us. He… he was different. He understood this sense of being torn apart. I heard he left for Iberia. And I heard that you and he… might be in contact. I know this request is presumptuous, but… some of us, especially the young ones, see no future here. We heard that in Iberia… perhaps there are new opportunities? Or at least, a way to leave this suffocating place?” His words were somewhat incoherent, yet they clearly conveyed a deep longing and a sense of utter desperation.

Remianne gently squeezed Suri's hand, her eyes filled with sympathy. Suri could sense her emotions.

Suri didn't answer immediately. He looked at the gardener—a gardener anxious about life and his people, a father. He thought of Andorn, the idealist burdened with the heavy weight of the Sarkaz. His gaze swept over the rumbling steel city beneath his feet; beneath the gleaming surface, undercurrents surged, and racial rifts, like rust, spread silently.

He really doesn't like trouble. But...

His arrogance, to some extent, stemmed from his absolute confidence in his own abilities and judgment. His approach to problems was often direct and efficient, sometimes even appearing ruthless.

“The conflicts here are deeply rooted and difficult to resolve,” Suri stated calmly, as if analyzing a topic unrelated to himself. “Hoping that the city’s management will suddenly become fair and wise, or that Sakorta and Sarkaz will instantly reconcile, is a foolish fantasy.” His words were so direct they were almost cruel, and the gardener’s eyes dimmed.

But Su Rui changed the subject, slightly raising his chin, a calculating glint flashing in his eyes that were always filled with impatience: "However, since you think this is a dead end and want to take another route, it's not entirely impossible."

The gardener suddenly looked up.

“Andorn went to Iberia, that’s right,” Suri continued, speaking slowly and clearly. “It’s not an easy job for him, and Iberia itself isn’t some paradise. It’s likely more dangerous and chaotic there.” He had to shatter the other man’s unrealistic fantasies first.

“We know…” the gardener said in a hoarse voice, “but at least… it’s a change.”

“Change?” Suri scoffed. “Maybe it’ll get worse. But in any case, he’s definitely short-handed. Short-handed in every sense of the word.” He looked at the gardener. “You want to leave, you want a chance to start over, and Andorn will most likely need people willing to work, or even fight. It sounds like you fit the latter description?” Sarkaz blood, even if only half, usually means stronger survival and combat abilities than ordinary people.

The gardener paused for a moment, then hope ignited in his eyes: "You mean..."

“I can write you a letter and draw a rough route map,” Suri said crisply, as if it were a trivial matter. “The letter is for Andorn, and I will explain your situation. As for whether he is willing to accept you, and whether you live or die after he accepts you, that depends on your own fate and his arrangements. I will not take any responsibility.” He laid out the unpleasant truth upfront, adopting an extremely condescending attitude, as if he were bestowing a handout.

But for the gardener, this was a glimmer of hope amidst despair! He was so moved he almost knelt down, his voice trembling: "Thank you! Thank you so much! Mr. Suri! No matter the outcome, we will be eternally grateful!"

Volume 17, Chapter 973: Don't be too happy yet.

“Don’t get too excited,” Suri interrupted him coldly. “The route can only point you in the right direction. You know the dangers of the Terra Wilderness. How many of you make it to Iberia and find Andorn is up to you. And,” he gave the gardener a meaningful look, “Andorn has his principles and his own agenda. You’d better figure out what you’re going to face instead of just trying to escape. If he thinks you’re not suitable, or if you violate his principles, you’ll have to bear the consequences.”

"Understood! We understand!" The gardener nodded repeatedly. "We'll take the risks ourselves! As long as we can get out of here, there's a way we can go!"

Suri said no more. He released Remian's hand and took out a portable leather notebook and a simple metal pen from inside his uniform. Leaning against the railing, he began to draw quickly and precisely. His map was clear, marking several key landmarks and the possible route sections that the moving city might pass through. Although brief, it was enough to indicate the general direction and meeting points.

After finishing the route map, he turned to a page and began writing a letter. His handwriting was fluid and slightly unruly, and the content was concise and to the point:

Andorn:

Passing through this area, you'll encounter a group of Sarkaz (hybrids) desperate for survival, heading towards Iberia. They possess some strength, but their resolve is wavering. Use them if you can, otherwise dismiss them or let them fend for themselves—it's up to you. The route is shown in the image; whether you encounter them or not is up to fate.

"Suri"

He neatly tore off the letter, folded it, and handed it to the gardener along with the route map.

“Here you go. Andorn has already set off, but he will definitely have reinforcements and supplies following him. Based on this route and timing, you have a high probability of encountering his reinforcements, which is much more realistic than blindly chasing after him,” Suri added, his consideration surprisingly thorough.

The gardener's hands trembled slightly as he accepted the two light yet incredibly heavy sheets of paper, carefully placing them inside his pocket and tucking them away close to his body. He bowed deeply again to Suri and to Remian: "Thank you! Thank you so much! May...may God bless you..." He didn't know how to express his gratitude, and finally used a common Lateran blessing, even though he knew the arrogant Sarkaz boy probably didn't need it.

"Let's go." Su Rui waved her hand, turned back to look out of the city, and her tone returned to its usual detached tone, "Don't attract any more people here."

The gardener responded repeatedly, thanked him again, and left with hurried yet light steps.

Only Suri and Remienne remained on the high ground. The sound of the wind seemed to have become clearer.

Remien leaned back against Suri, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his shoulder. "I didn't expect you to agree to help." Her voice held a hint of gentle surprise and...admiration?

Suri snorted, still gazing into the distance, though his ears seemed slightly red: "Don't flatter yourself. I just think it's a waste to keep this bunch of trouble here; it's better to leave them to Andorn to deal with. Besides..." He paused, his tone becoming somewhat awkward, "...the way those brats are isolated is just annoying to watch."

Remien laughed, not calling out his lame excuse. She knew that beneath his arrogance wasn't entirely coldness. He was just subconsciously using this awkward way to express himself.

“Besides,” Suri added, as if to emphasize his “indifference,” “Isn’t Andorn, that idealist, just in need of manpower to realize his unrealistic dreams? I’m just providing him with labor; he should thank me.”

“Yes, yes, Young Master Su Rui has considered everything very thoroughly.” Remy Ann readily agreed, her smile barely concealed.

Su Rui seemed satisfied, his chin slightly raised. Night gradually fell, and the city lights shone even brighter. He felt the warmth of the person beside him, and the slight discomfort he had felt for meddling quickly dissipated.

For him, it might really have just been a spur-of-the-moment arrangement. It solved the problem, got rid of the trouble, and perhaps even satisfied Remi's excessive sympathy—well, that was the main reason. He concluded, then turned his attention back to the warmth in his arms.

The distant wilderness remained pitch black, but for some, a thin map and a text message might ignite a glimmer of light, guiding them toward an unknown yet promising future. But for Suri at this moment, it was merely a minor episode during his time alone with Remy, not even worth his further attention.

The metal railings of the elevated platform still retained the warmth of the daytime sun, but the night breeze carried a distinct chill. The city's roar became a constant background noise, making this corner all the more tranquil. Suri leaned back slightly, placing most of his weight on the person behind him. Remien naturally adjusted her position, allowing him to lean more comfortably against her, her arms around his waist, her chin gently resting on the top of his soft hair.

This posture made him appear less sharp and flamboyant than usual, revealing a rare softness that depended on others. Of course, if anyone dared to say this to his face, they would surely be met with his harsh rebuttal and glare. But at this moment, in front of Remian, he seemed to allow himself to briefly shed that armor of arrogance.

He remained silent, his lake-blue eyes gazing down at the mobile site known as the "Holy City." The lights shone brightly, outlining the solemn silhouette of the church and the orderly streets. The aura of the Sakota twinkled like flowing stars in the night, converging into a soft sea of ​​light. Everything seemed so orderly, peaceful, and serene, perfectly matching the outside world's idealized image of Laterano.

But Suri's brow furrowed slightly. His brief conversation with the Sarkaz gardener Barton during the day, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, was only now slowly spreading its ripples into the depths of his mind.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed near the church during the day. Well-dressed Sarkaz believers conversed politely, but when a few men in slightly worn clothes, bearing distinct Sarkaz features (perhaps workers, or mixed-race like Patton), tried to approach the church square, the surrounding gazes took on a subtle scrutiny, a distance, and even a hint of veiled wariness. Although no conflict occurred, that invisible boundary was as clear as a line drawn on the ground.

He recalled that at the market, the Sarkaz vendors' stalls always seemed to be located on the periphery, and the customers were mainly of other races or their own race, with very few Sarkaz patrons. Even when they were, the transactions were extremely businesslike, lacking the relaxed atmosphere that was common in Lateran.

Volume 17, Chapter 974 is not so tolerant.

He even recalled the subtle difference in the level of scrutiny the checkpoint guards applied to the Sarkaz and Sarkaz when they entered the mobile city earlier—the former were checked more thoroughly, even with questioning; the latter were checked more routinely.

These details didn't attract much attention from him at the time; he was used to being treated well and to ignoring people and things that didn't interest him. But Patton's plea for help connected these scattered fragments, piecing together a picture that didn't entirely match the glorious image of the "Holy City."

"...This place doesn't seem as inclusive as the legends say." Su Rui suddenly spoke, his voice somewhat muffled, carrying a hint of confusion after reflection, and a trace of...disappointment? Although he himself would never admit to such an emotion. His arrogance was based on a certain conviction in his own understanding and the rules governing the world, and when reality revealed details that contradicted this, it always brought a slightly awkward sense of dislocation.

Remian gave a soft "hmm," seemingly unsurprised by his words. Her fingers twirled the ends of his soft hair, her voice gentle yet clear: "After all, this place is called 'Holy City,' not 'City of Harmony,' Suri." There was no judgment in her words, only a peaceful statement. "The paradise of Sarkaz was first and foremost built for Sarkaz. The halo and laws protect us, but this protection itself may have inadvertently drawn a line."

She paused, feeling the slight tension in the boy's back muscles as she held him, and continued softly, "Fear, prejudice, the scars of history... these things cannot be easily erased by a moving city or a few dogmas. They are rooted deep in people's hearts, even in Lateran. It's just that here, they may manifest themselves in a more... civilized, more subtle way." Unlike in the wilderness or some cities, where they might directly manifest as violent conflict.

Of course, Suri knew all this. He wasn't an ignorant fool; the racial conflicts on Terra were a stark reality. He just... perhaps subconsciously harbored a sliver of unrealistic fantasy about this city, hailed as a "holy land" and dominated by his own kind? He thought things would be different here, that it would lean towards some idealized state.

The results showed that the shadows still existed under the sunlight, but they had been hidden in a more dignified way.

“I know.” He interrupted impatiently, as if refuting Remian, or perhaps refuting his own momentary wavering. “The law of the jungle, the idea that those who are not of our kind are bound to have different hearts—I’ve heard enough of these ridiculous principles.” His tone regained its usual sarcasm. “I just didn’t expect that these rules would be applied so… hypocritically, on my own turf.”

He had initially thought that Laterano's inclusiveness, at least superficially, was absolutely politically correct and sufficient to ensure that everyone living there could enjoy basic peace. But now it seemed that such "inclusivity" was conditional and limited to a certain order. For the Sarkaz, especially those hybrids with awkward identities and weak power, invisible rejection and pressure were omnipresent.

Remien wasn't angry at his harsh tone; instead, she tightened her arms around him, holding him even more securely. She could sense his rare, subtle agitation stemming from the disruption of his understanding. This arrogant and willful handsome young man might actually harbor a small, unnoticed expectation of a "better world" deep inside, even though he would undoubtedly deny it with the harshest words.

"Feeling disillusioned?" she asked softly, with a hint of teasing, trying to lighten the somber mood.

"Hmph." Su Rui scoffed, completely reverting to his arrogant demeanor. "Disillusionment? Not really. It just proves once again that my view was correct—hoping for others' kindness or relying on some illusory sense of community is the most foolish thing to do. Having power and the right to choose in your own hands is what truly matters." He seemed to have found a perfect excuse for his earlier outburst, his tone becoming self-righteous again. "Like that gardener, knowing he couldn't stay here, he tried to find a way out; that shows he has some sense. Although he came to me..." He paused, letting out a slightly smug hum, "...he was lucky."

He attributed Patton's successful appeal to his own "power" and "choice" (i.e., providing help), thus perfectly extricating himself from the feeling of helplessness in the face of reality and regaining his psychological high ground.

Listening to his typical "Suri-style" sophistry and self-justification, Remien couldn't help but chuckle softly, the vibration of her chest clearly conveying the sound to him. "Yes, yes, Young Master Su Rui is wise, pointing out a way out with just a flick of his wrist."

“That’s how it is.” He replied matter-of-factly, turning to the side and burying his face in the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath of her reassuring scent, a mixture of faint frosting and cleaning agent, and the slight ripples he had felt upon discovering that the “Holy City” was not perfect quickly subsided.

That's just how the world is—survival of the fittest, and hypocrisy is everywhere. Lateran is no exception.

This is not surprising.