Dumbfounded.jpg
Indeed, as an Ursusian, it was difficult to see Eastern techniques, let alone ones used by the Infected. This style of self-defense differed from Ursus's Sambo, focusing on kicks, strikes, throws, and holds. Close-range inch punches were actually more suited to Easterners, but Yelena's build was rather frail. Unlike the broad-backed, heavily built Ursus men, she was clearly better suited to short-range inch punches.
"There's no need to rush, though. Take it slowly and learn by following my movements first."
Yelena also assumed a defensive stance.
Although short-range combat did not emphasize form, but rather striking through openings and exploiting every gap—neither blocking nor parrying, but attacking whenever the opponent moved—she was starting from scratch, so there were not that many rules to worry about.
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Late at night, Yelena fell asleep early after a full day of training.
Of course, that was also Chlorine Sodium's deliberate doing. If the girl did not fall asleep soon, how was she supposed to come out and lay the groundwork for what came next?
With Chlorine Sodium in her Herrscher form and capable of summoning her true body, moving rapidly was an effortless task.
By now, she had arrived somewhere else, at the opposite end of the north.
Another mine.
This one seemed to have been newly built not long ago. It was much larger than the ones she had seen before. Compared to the empire's garbage dumps—
calling it a concentration camp was more accurate.
Many Ursus military police stood blocking the entrance with shields and batons, while countless Infected were trapped inside.
An uprising in a concentration camp?
This was the agreed-upon location.
The deal between Black Snake and Chlorine Sodium concerned the Infected.
Black Snake believed that resistance from the Infected was only a matter of time. It would happen sooner or later.
But what Black Snake needed was to accelerate the process. As long as a signal of resistance could be created, that would be enough.
There was no need to care whether it was real or fake. All that mattered was making it happen.
A deliberate act of resistance.
Now, the target had been found. The silver-haired girl landed in the snow some distance from the concentration camp.
Bright lighting equipment illuminated the camp, but it also turned the surrounding area into a blind spot beneath the light.
The brighter the light, the darker the shadows.
She stopped. The timing was perfect. All the necessary actors were already in place.
The awakened weaklings shouting and yelling, the military police swinging batons at the unarmed Infected, the secret police who had come to maintain order, and the on-site commander directing them.
The reporters of the Ursus rulers, those mouthpieces working hand in glove with one another, had all prepared their cameras.
Everyone had arrived. They were waiting to clear out these troublesome Infected, purify the empire's air and environment, and brew up a new political news story.
Yet no one knew that, upon the distant snowy plain, the silver-haired girl slightly parted her lips. An ancient song, accompanied by ominous energy, gradually enveloped the area.
A struggle bound for the abyss was slowly raising its curtain.
A new era was about to arrive.
P.S. Ah, Herrscher of Sentience is so wonderful. I really want to tie up the Queen and put her in a basement, hehe—ah, that perverted face.
Damn you, Mihoyo! Give me back Herrscher of Sentience! Aaaah! I watched the short recently released by Honkai Impact 3rd. Everyone became a Herrscher, and it feels like the Queen no longer has any chance to appear. On top of that, Spring Bug now has heterochromia. I remember that in the short "Reburn" from a few years ago, Spring Bug's eyes became completely golden with the Herrscher's star-shaped pupils when she transformed. Does that count as rewriting things internally?
Besides, I haven't played Honkai Impact 3rd in ages. Didn't the official Bilibili account release a preview of Fu Hua becoming a Herrscher? It's been so long—did the video suffer a difficult birth?
Section 18: Chapter Eighteen—Artificial Prophecy
"Major Koschei, I truly have complete faith in you. These mobs have caused me no small amount of trouble."
At night, inside a tent in the military camp, Koschei, still dressed in white, took a bottle of well-aged red wine from a servant and poured some into the major's glass.
Advanced military heating equipment kept the place isolated from the frozen wilderness outside. It could be considered a rather high-end arrangement.
This was the Garrison Legion subordinate to the Far East Army Group. Since the Far East faced little military pressure, the Garrison Legion had also been brought over to maintain public order in remote regions.
"Rest assured, Duke. The Infected are nothing but a rabble of weaklings. We can suppress them at any time."
The major, dressed in an Ursus Military Uniform, took a sip of wine and spoke with complete confidence.
"Is that so? That's wonderful. I worry about my life and fortune day and night, after all. Thanks to the late Emperor's favor, I was able to obtain this territory. If anything happened, it would be difficult to explain myself."
With a false yet elegant smile, the major saw that the time was right and offered the dangerous duke a new deal.
Mutual interests and mutual weaknesses.
"However, Duke, although this matter is easy enough to handle, there are some things that are perfectly reasonable in themselves, yet might be misunderstood by certain people if they were exposed."
"Oh? What sort of thing?"
The old fox Koschei naturally understood what the major meant. But the art of human relations was the art of seeing through things without saying so.
Or perhaps it was the art of finding the right question.
"Something entirely reasonable—even something you, Duke, would consider perfectly reasonable..."
He set the wineglass on the table. A cold light fell across their brows, casting shadows over their eyes and illustrating the sins hidden in the darkness.
"It concerns deploying troops during the suppression. For the sake of safety, of course they should be suitably armed..."
He had raised the point they needed. This would become the unspoken premise between them, the basis for mutual exploitation. The prerequisite for using each other was holding each other's weaknesses in their hands.
It did not matter even if the reins each of them held and offered were both fictional.
"Of course they should be armed. These mobs are extremely dangerous."
Koschei echoed him.
"I'm glad you understand. It's just that someone suggested using firearms and lethal Originium Arts during the suppression..."
"Such a request is entirely reasonable. There is no need to reveal it at all. I'm sure anyone handling such a matter would share my view, Major Koschei."
The two old foxes completed their deal, and the major obtained what he wanted.
The major gave a military salute, then prepared to leave for the temporary command post and direct the suppression.
However, in the corner behind him, Koschei's smile grew even more sinister.
The mantis stalked the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it. The major thought he had reached a deal, but Koschei had other plans.
Yet no one knew any of this.
Elsewhere, inside the concentration camp.
Within the cage formed by barbed wire and high walls—originally a mine, or rather, an imperial garbage dump—a group of Infected hated by the entire world had somehow received assistance from somewhere!
It had yet to be determined which organization or individual was secretly funding these Infected, or had even smuggled weapons inside!
This was practically a mockery of Ursus's policy toward the Infected.
It was as ridiculous as prisoners in a jail buying a pile of guns from outside and preparing to escape.
It made people wonder whether those guards were being paid to do nothing???
The bewildered crowd was packed together at the concentration camp's entrance, while the military police's shield wall stood outside in the open ground.
There were none of the expected roars or hatred. The military police alone were enough to control the situation, especially since most of the "rioters" facing them wore bewildered expressions.
A few fanatics and a larger number of confused followers stood at the entrance. They did not shout or demonstrate, nor did they even attack the mine entrance. They simply stood there, seemingly waiting for something.
Yet the mine's administrator seemed to feel that the stakes were still insufficient. Even though the military police had suffered no losses and could control the situation at any time, he called in the Garrison Legion.
Even the military police commander had no idea what was happening.
Why call in the army?
Because the information had not been communicated properly, a military police formation numbering several thousand ended up facing the mine occupied by the Infected across a single gate. They looked at one another in confusion. Even the originally murderous atmosphere had vanished, leaving only an eerie silence permeating the air.
The military personnel were still entering, making the scene increasingly crowded.
The reason the Infected had gathered together and blocked the entrance was not resistance, but the instigation of a group of religious fanatics and the verification of one prophecy after another.
The Infected had originally possessed no rights at all.
But things seemed to have changed recently. A noble had apparently arrived at the mine. Although the noble had become Infected, the family did not seem willing to abandon such a distinguished member and had arranged some special treatment.
For example, church personnel came here every week. Since most nobles were believers of the Imperial Church, giving this devout noble a chance to pray to their god each week did not seem unreasonable.
After all, it was a noble. Although this noble's existence was only known through rumors, no one knew who the noble actually was, nor whom these religious fanatics had come to receive for prayer.
But this conveniently allowed the surrounding Infected believers to join them. The god of Ursus treated everyone equally, and naturally the priests of the church also received all believers equally for prayer, whether Infected or Non-Infected.
For some unknown reason, the authorities did not suppress the practice in any way, simply allowing it to continue.
Until one day, a message began circulating among the church members at the mine.
The gods would ultimately punish the unjust persecution of others.
At first, few people believed such an obviously fanatical statement.
Until one day, every message gradually began to come true.
First came the guards' negligence. Someone had actually managed to establish contact with the outside world.
That had always been absolutely, unquestionably impossible before.
Afterward, someone somehow obtained food from outside.
Yet the guards seemed to allow it all to happen.
Later, more and more things were exchanged in and out, and people's courage grew greater.
All of this made people more willing to believe the words of those religious fanatics.
Because it had already been part of the prophecy.
Until today, when the fanatics' prophecy that the gods would ultimately punish the unjust persecution of others was to come true.
The guards' lax management and the church's authority established here had caused all the Infected to stop mining. Instead, they crowded together—bewildered, expectant—and blocked the entrance.
And then the current scene came to pass.
Ridiculous and absurd.
Such a scene could never have happened outside, yet here it had. The military police formation guarded the mine entrance without entering to wipe out the Infected. The Infected looked as though they intended to revolt, yet all crowded around the entrance as if waiting for something. The military forces entered and became mixed together with the military police. For a moment, all three sides fell silent. Only the crunch of combat boots on snow and the howling of the cold wind could be heard.
There was no taunting, no cursing. Many people were even holding their breath, waiting for something—waiting for something to appear.
However, on the snowy plain at the edge of the mine, in the darkness untouched by the enormous spotlights—
a golden boot lightly touched the snow. Chlorine Sodium had arrived.
The actors were in place, and the stage was filled with spotlights.
Now, it was time to raise the curtain on the prologue.
P.S. I'm really curious—what are the four essential pieces of information for a bank card??? Why does it say that my phone verification doesn't match my bank card??? What kind of nonsense is this?
Section 19: Chapter Nineteen—The Script of the Despicable
So, what were the orders now?
The guards had swiftly formed a shield wall with their shields after receiving the order, but the next command was to stand by in place?
They did not suppress the Infected right in front of them, while the Infected did not throw things at them as they had during riots throughout history. Those people were confused too.
The military's heavily armored landcraft gradually turned into position. Its mounted spotlights swept across the formation and shone on the guards' helmets. The military had also been ordered to reach the scene as quickly as possible and stop the riot.
Yet the intensity of the scene did not match the emergency.
The military police alone would have been entirely sufficient for something like this. So what was the point of bringing the army here?
But obedience was a soldier's first duty. Once the order was issued, the Garrison Legion immediately set out and arrived here.
The only people in the crowd who looked excited were the few religious fanatics among the Infected.
The original priest had already left, leaving only the accompanying staff members.
But since they were church personnel, the work team was naturally composed of believers. This time was no different.
Before you continue