Fantasy Colors of 218

"Frontline report: Trivella has experienced an unprecedented terrorist attack in the past 39 hours, with cumulative casualties including 1.2 million dead, 15.62 million injured, and a staggering 23 million missing..."

"The Ministry of Education is negotiating with the temporary municipal team, but it will take some time before order is truly restored. For the survivors, perhaps the greater threat comes not from terrorists and Implant Equipment Vanguard, but from other survivors..."

"Breaking news! The Ministry of Education of White Candle Star Barkomon, is currently engaged in combat with a hostile force. According to sources, the opponent is Governor Bablushka of the Night Butterfly Federation. The unprecedented Kappa-rank battle is taking place right on our doorstep..."

"The new mayor Vald, knelt and wept, pleading: 'Please, the Supreme Council, intervene! Save us unarmed civilians! The war will last a long time, but we must live in the present...'"

"More and more gangs are taking advantage of the chaos to loot, and the situation in Trivella City has attracted the attention of the entire planet. Whether we can overcome the current difficulties does not depend on how many high-level combat forces we have, but on the people who actually get things done and the departments that carry it out..."

Luther shut down the Information Rune and sat in front of the flower bed downstairs from his rented apartment. He held a wisp of lingering Magic Cigarette in one hand, his face filled with confusion and numbness.

What on earth is going on? He looked around.

Alarms blared one after another, and black body bags piled up like kitchen waste bins in garbage sorting, with flies swarming around, causing genuine unease and disgust.

The world was turned upside down, and the shadow of destruction and death loomed over everyone.

Luther numbly smoked his cigarette, oblivious to what the future held.

The school was destroyed, I lost my job, and all my friends and classmates perished. Now I can only stay in this rented room and can't even contact my Li Ren.

He thought of Blue Chrysanthemum Village, and of Rio —who should now be called Lioz —who had left the village with him and come to Trivella with him after passing the exam.

For a long time, he was both jealous and resentful of Lioz, but after the attack on Trivella, which resulted in the deaths of so many people, Luther actually wished that the other man would survive.

So many people had died that even he, a materialist, began to hallucinate—it seemed as if the air around him was filled with the wailing of wronged souls, and the biting cold wind carried the howling of ghosts, making him shiver.

What should he do? Just as Luther was feeling lost, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind:

[Humble carbon blocks, come to sing the praises of the spirit of steel...]

The voice was deep and magnetic, filled with an inexplicable, captivating allure. Luther was instantly mesmerized and listened intently.

Trustworthy Village.

"Come and lend a hand, Dad!"

"You always order people around. Oh dear, my old back is about to be ruined."

Nikita carried the heavy supplies uphill and handed them to his son-in-law Julian. He felt dizzy, as if the air around him was filled with an unpleasant poisonous gas. Fortunately, he had reached the Zeta-rank in his youth, so even in old age, he was immune to many diseases.

"Let me rest... Sigh... I'm getting old, I'm really getting old."

Nikita slumped down by the roadside, sighed, looked at the Biochemical Pool not far away, and muttered, "That kid Lioz is really a handful. He suddenly mobilized the whole village to work out of nowhere. I'm an old man, and I almost didn't make it through. I don't know what kind of barren land this planet is; even the air smells weird."

"That's probably because you don't have magical blood in your body."

After putting away the supplies, Julian, the son-in-law, came over and comforted her, saying, "We all have some Spellcasters blood, but you are a pure-blooded Vanlenkov Alien. It's normal that you're not used to the high-poly environment here."

"No, no, no, I don't think so."

Nikita took a sip of the drink he carried with him, his gaze puzzled. "I served on a planet with Magic Civilization when I was young, but I didn't have these problems back then. And this uncomfortable feeling... it just feels strangely familiar..."

"You're being too sensitive," Julian said, looking around. "Everyone seems normal to me; nothing serious has happened."

"Maybe so." Nikita composed himself, took a couple of breaths, and said, "Julian, I have a feeling something's not right. That kid Lioz might know something. Based on my intuition, he's probably gathering supplies and preparing for a battle, and a fierce one at that."

"Oh."

"Why are you reacting like that, kid?"

"That's normal." Julian shrugged. "We Vanlenkov Alien have been fighting battles for years. Mr. Lioz's interest in us is partly due to that. You know that, don't you?"

"I mean, is this your reaction? Don't you feel any resentment that Lioz is hiding this from you?" Nikita said with dissatisfaction. "Lioz is definitely hiding something from us."

"I don't think it's a bad thing."

Julian recalled how Lioz had voluntarily concealed his identity for him back at the Verrazzi Company. He shook his head and said:

"I believe in Mr. Lioz. He may have his own difficulties. As neighbors living under someone else's roof, we should just do what is appropriate for our status, not cause trouble for others, and do our best. That is enough."

"But perhaps Lioz is fighting some enemies he shouldn't have," Nikita thought uneasily. "I don't care, but you two are still young; you have to survive to have any hope. Why don't you just find a chance to take my daughter and run away together?"

"Dad, where can we go now?"

Julian wiped the sweat from his brow and said:

"Mr. Lioz saved us, saved the Vanlenkov Autonomous State, saved my family, and so many refugees—I think people should have some gratitude. Mr. Lioz has done so many meaningful things, and we should repay him."

"Oh well... whatever you want."

Nikita could not find any reason to refute it.

In reality, the family was already living comfortably on the money Lioz gave them every year, so saying these things now does seem rather ungrateful.

But for some reason, Nikita felt something was off. The feeling permeating the air was something he had indeed experienced when he was young, during his time in a certain civilization.

A strong, metallic scent, like the Mars and shavings produced when mechanical gears rub against each other.

In his youth, Nikita traveled extensively as Zeta-rank warrior, even engaging in combat with ordinary citizens. But now, he is too old to carry heavy objects, and both his physical and mental abilities have severely deteriorated.

Strictly speaking, the mechanism of the Dao is not equal for every race, especially for creatures like the Vanlenkov Alien, whose lives are filled with constant mutations and severe Telomere damage, making longevity almost impossible.

Vanlenkov Alien physique was limited by this, so even if he wanted to help Lioz, it wouldn't make a difference.

"Lioz, what on earth did you do to deserve this?"

I simply can't split the chapters up anymore...

I can use this month's leave slip now; I'll be doing the 10,000-word diary tomorrow.