Dancing on Three Eggs

What about those who are completely unaware of the immense power that Fate Reconstruction?

"Get out of the way."

Surprisingly, the guerrillas obeyed Oute's orders and silently moved away.

Watching Oute and the others walk into the cubicle before the operating room, and watching the door slowly close, everyone— FrostNova, the guerrillas, the Yeti Squad, and even the somewhat "passerby" Han Tan —felt even more anxious.

Once inside the operating room, Kal'tsit said, "Your plan isn't particularly difficult; it's all basic, repetitive work, but..."

Meanwhile, at the Sarkaz mercenary camp, dawn was approaching, with slivers of light peeking through the horizon.

"... But it was torture!" Ines rubbed her forehead, opened her eyes, and glanced around at the reserve team, who were also sprawled out on their makeshift beds. Faced with the waves of low-intensity attacks throughout the night, the two of them divided the defense into three shifts, with two shifts of mercenaries taking turns to rest.

Clearly, this was no enjoyment, but that's how it is on the front lines; even a hot meal is often a luxury. This "most fun game in the world," aside from the few drops of adrenaline, consists of long marches, boots soaked in dirty water, and swollen calves.

Having intentionally used the army group as a pawn to cut off their retreat, the infected people incited by "Talulah" lacked sufficient military skills. They were already lucky to be able to surround these Sarkaz. They simply couldn't withstand the crossfire deployed by Hedley and force the mercenaries to switch to melee combat. As a result, their own casualties continued to accumulate pointlessly.

However, the pitch-black environment and the fanaticism stirred up by "Talulah" prevented them from realizing that they had been beaten to a pulp... until their vision gradually cleared.

Thus, these masked thugs, who had committed numerous crimes in the Chernobog incident, seemed like monsters emerging from the darkness. Their morale collapsed in broad daylight, and they began to flee.

"Pah!" A centurion spat out a mouthful of saliva that smelled of dirt. "Finally, it's fucking broken!"

Hedley watched the masked thugs gradually scatter and flee, stared for a moment, and then ordered the mercenaries, "Take turns to rest!"

"Second team! Have you rested enough?! Follow me! Clean up the battlefield!" Ines impatiently kicked out, "waking up" a half-grown child who was still sleeping soundly.

Leading mercenaries, especially Sarkaz, is particularly difficult in this respect: they never believe in future visions, and if they are not allowed to take what is available, they will cause trouble at any moment.

Even now, with rotations and rest, and another team handling the spoils, it all depends on Hedley's prestige and credibility. If it were someone as greedy as Garson, the mercenaries would never believe he would distribute the spoils fairly!

"Aren't you going to rest for a while?" Ines yawned and stood next to Hedley.

The amateur historian was a step behind.

He stared at the seemingly unmoving walls of the Core City and said, "She hasn't shown her face yet, so she must have escaped from another direction."

"... Isn't it a good thing that we don't have to be his target?"

"Speaking of which, where do you think the Crownslayer, the Skullshatterer, and their troops went?" Hedley suddenly asked. "It seems that Oute's plan completely ignored them."

"That is indeed a problem," Ines, perking up as well.

If things go wrong, they might be the ones running into this group.

Lungmen Office.

"Miss Natasha, are you sure?"

Earthspirit sat upright, his eyes peering out from the fabricated resume.

Misha smiled brightly, "Now that things have come to this, there's no need to call me by that name anymore, is there?"

"...Miss Misha," the Earthspirit changed her words, "Even if she wanted to work for us, there was no need to apply for fieldwork."

Little Bear shook her head and said, "There are things I can only do when I'm on the field."

The Earthspirit wanted to ask more questions, but she suddenly paused, then sighed.

After a long pause, she said emotionlessly, "Let me reiterate: Our work pays relatively well, but shipboard crew members can only spend money offline when we are at sea. Online shopping opportunities via email are limited and have high premiums; long-term field crew members have irregular paydays and are limited by communication conditions."

"Working hours are not fixed; under normal circumstances, the daily working hours range from eight to sixty-four hours." Oute casually spoke of something that transcended the realm of unscrupulous businesses.

"Work locations are diverse, and in some situations, conditions are harsh, environments are dangerous, and there is rampant unwarranted violence, racial discrimination, and venting of hatred. In the most extreme cases, if you suffer a misfortune, even your body may be difficult to recover."

"Job duties are flexible, including but not limited to indoor hydroponic cultivation, frontline battlefield first aid, sewer cleaning, and subversion/counter-subversion of state power and refugee search and rescue."

"You get little satisfaction from your work, and only like-minded people can understand your actions. Even honors are hard to gain external recognition—in fact, a significant number of people will gossip behind your back, questioning your intelligence and mental state."

Misha's shoulders trembled slightly. "Thank you, I'm not so nervous anymore."

"..." Caprinae placed his hands on his chin, covering it, pretending he hadn't heard anything.

Under Oute's deliberate manipulation, his square, sheep-like eyes gleamed with a bewitching light. "Even so, do you still want to join my field operations department?"

Misha took a deep breath and repeated, "Yes, there are things I can only accomplish while working in the field."

Ever since the breakout from Chernobog, Oute has maintained an obsessive-compulsive need to ensure that all members survive the game.

Although a few unlucky individuals inexplicably found themselves in the line of fire, their overall performance highlighted Rhodes Island's unwavering commitment to its beliefs from another perspective.

Sometimes, it is the enemy who can better appreciate the weight and value of this kind of "persistence"—for example, after realizing that Misha Skullshatterer already under the protection of Rhodes Island, Shatterboro chose to let go.

This decision wasn't exactly impulsive; he hadn't even realized what was wrong with "Talulah." But... did he really have to drag his own blood relative into such an organization?

Even though a group of overly kind people had already accepted her...

"Alex, what exactly have you been hiding from us?" The Crownslayer plopped down on the ground.

This is an abandoned mining base on the Lungmen Channel.

Because of the relatively high concentration of Originium Dust and its lack of value, this place is rarely visited by people.

"... Actually, Misha's help is unnecessary."

"I guessed that would happen long ago." The Crownslayer looked up at the sky. "Even if I didn't know before, I know now."

"Talulah lied to us," she said. "Whether you stand up and look or lie on the ground and listen, the Core City is getting closer and closer, and we haven't even gone back yet."

"No, maybe she just found a spare key..."

"A spare key for a spare key?" The Crownslayer retorted, "You left her at Rhodes Island, didn't you?"

"...Hmm." Skullshatterer removed his gas mask, revealing a face that was almost identical to Misha's.

"I... I hope she's doing better. Rhodes Island may have different ideologies from ours, but maybe it's a better fit for her."

"Perhaps" is a statement of certainty.

Chapter 186 Dancing on Three Eggs

"What about Talulah? What about Reunion Movement?" The Crownslayer, somewhat bewildered. "If we really destroy the Core City, what about the infected's homeland?"

"Go find the captain!" Alex suddenly stood up, excitedly saying, "The captain... Patriot, he'll definitely have a way!"

Within the Reunion Movement, Alex and Ludmila were latecomers. But that's the power of a hero's appeal; even with ideological differences, and even though Alex's radical approach wasn't approved by Bohdrokasthim...

But with the leader of the Reunion Movement clearly abandoning it, the desperate Chernobog Gang still thought of that hero.

What's this branch route number again?

Ethan leaned against the ceiling, freeing one hand to touch his lower back.

His fingers picked up the pages, and he turned them quickly and silently.

Hmm... show yourself directly!?

Is it true or false?

Doctor, you're probably not just making this up, are you?

After retracting the manual into her waistband, Safra fell to the ground silently, like a falling leaf.

"Um... good morning, good afternoon, good evening?" Ethan flicked his finger, awkwardly greeting the two Chernobog.

Alex instinctively wanted to pull the trigger, but Safra instinctively vanished.

"Wait, wait!" Ethan shouted. "It's Rhodes Island! It's Rhodes Island!"

In a moment of desperation, he took off his coat while invisible and threw it out.

Alex signaled to the Crownslayer to be on guard, while he himself used the bayonet on the grenade launcher to hook the coat back.

He pulled his coat from the triangular emblem, his expression softening, and continued looking in the direction where Ethan had disappeared, saying, "We were enemies not long ago, and you were the one who captured Mephisto."

If you encounter any of the following situations, turn to... and you will find it.

Use this rhetoric to negotiate with those wearing gas masks...

As Ethan flipped through the book, he read aloud in a monotone tone, "In the face of large-scale armed conflict, our conviction leaves us with no choice but to protect ordinary people—regardless of whether those we protect are infected or not, and regardless of whether the enemy we face is infected or not."

Doctor, oh Doctor, is what you wrote reliable!?

Upon hearing the voice from behind, Alex instinctively slipped his finger into the trigger ring, while the Crownslayer tightened his grip on the dagger.

Outdoors, their troops also realized something was wrong; they could already hear a commotion of footsteps.

"Our paths will inevitably diverge, but until then, perhaps we can walk together."

Ethan's voice, reciting his lessons, drifted further and further away, becoming somewhat ethereal and profound...

"By the way, we... used the survivors of Chernobog to form a court for Mephisto?" Ethan stammered, his eyes wide, as he read the second half of the sentence: "They sentenced him to death, to be carried out immediately!?"

I'm going to die!...

Doctor, are you sure you didn't make a mistake!?

He then turned to the next page, and a few Originium dust drifted into the air.

Safra saw Oute's note: Regardless of what happened before, retreat immediately. Your job is done. Remember to come to my office to collect your allowance when you return.

Is now the time to say this!? Can I really hold on until then!?

Is there an escape route!?

Please help!

For a fleeting moment, Safra's eyes turned extremely cold.

That was...?

"Doctor. Oute!" Kal'tsit hissed, "Focus!"

It was really too much to be distracted during surgery, but Ethan's situation is alright, so there's no need to continue being distracted.

Fleshy tendrils grew from Wendigo's open chest cavity, as if they possessed intelligence, and tightly wrapped around the artificial heart prepared by Kal'tsit.

Bohdrokasthim!

Warfarin raised an eyebrow.

Like a train changing tracks, the blood immediately returned to its original course, no longer being transported through the deformed tumor that Oute had rubbed by hand.

No wonder Kal'tsit was angry with him just now... it means he literally holds the patient's life in his hands.