Chapter 502.3: The Strange Symbol...

Looking at the corpse sprawled on the altar steps, Night Ten spat in disdain. "Misunderstanding my ass."

Meet the administrator?

You think you’re qualified?

Gale shot him a look of disapproval.

“You killed the guy! Who are we supposed to interrogate for info on the crew now?”

Night Ten froze, then scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Didn’t Old White say ‘leave none alive’...?”

He admitted that when he landed and saw those fellow humans held captive by mutants, he had lost his cool a little.

Old White patted his shoulder and grinned. “It’s fine. There’re plenty of half-dead ones still lying around, we can grab one and ask.”

Saying that, he walked up to the corpse, preparing to inspect it, but the moment his gaze landed on its robes, his brow furrowed.

The woven patterns formed inverted triangles, like upright torches with flickering flames.

Old White looked toward the altar ahead. The carvings on the stone wall matched the symbol in his memory exactly.

Torch Church?!

But they were in the Great Desert, thousands of kilometers from the Dead Coast.

Why would the Torch Church’s symbol appear here?

His brow tightened further.

Is this a coincidence?

Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t the time to think about things like that.

He used his combat knife to cut a strip of linen from the priest’s robes, then looked ahead toward the altar and raised his right fist.

“Keep moving!”

...

The outer perimeter of the camp had been cleared.

If nothing unexpected happened, they were headed straight for the boss fight!

To the players’ disappointment, however, the altar held no legendary super Mutant Human, not even an elite monster.

Which, on second thought, made sense.

If there really had been something that terrifying here, General Klaas would have used it during his earlier campaign. There’s no way he would’ve saved such a trump card when he was losing.

After taking out a few rifle-wielding Mutant Humans guarding the altar, the group pushed into the concrete-scrap-constructed hall. It appeared to have once been a factory. Inside, they found a backup generator powered by nuclear batteries which was still functioning.

Following the power cables, they reached a side chamber of the altar and discovered 12 upright cylindrical culture tanks.

The tanks were filled with a murky green solution, in which pale human bodies were suspended, their faces covered by breathing masks.

Air bubbles rose from the bottom of the tanks, indicating the systems were still operating.

Old White frowned and walked up to the control console, trying to operate it, only to discover that he couldn’t make heads or tails of the interface.

Frankly... It was embarrassing. Mutant Humans could use this stuff, and he couldn’t?

“If Ample Time was here, maybe he could...” Feeling awkward, he glanced at the others. “... What is this?”

Night Ten looked confused.

“Clone synthesis device?”

Gale shook his head, recalling the labs on 76th Street. “Doesn’t look like it...”

“That’s a medical pod.” A strange voice interrupted them.

Though spoken in a completely different language, the timing of the interjection was oddly seamless.

Everyone turned to look, and saw Yun Song, captain of the Enterprise’s 26th Assault Team, removing his helmet and walking over with rifle in hand.

“Medical pod?” Old White asked in Federation language.

“Yes.” Stopping in front of one of the tanks, Yun Song stared at it with conflicting emotions as he continued, “They put fertile, genetically compatible human females into these pods... once healed, they reuse them.”

“The ones who operate these machines are usually priests or chieftains... it’s the same on the East Coast.”

“How the hell did these Mutant Humans learn to use these machines?” Old White couldn’t help but ask.

“They’re not hard to operate. Some programs even have basic tutorials, or built-in AIs that automate the process...” He paused, face darkening. “Of course, it’s also possible someone taught them.”

It’s worth noting, Mutant Humans were a different species from humans, but not entirely impossible to communicate with. In fact, many could speak the Federation language, though most were rather dumb.

Smarter ones would quickly rise to become tribe priests or herders. They knew how to trade what humans liked for what they needed.

Like slaves... Or tools to produce slaves.

Mutants had no concept of medicine. Either they had medical pods, clone vats, or a skilled breeder raising females like livestock.

Otherwise, given their crude birth practices and the harsh conditions, no matter how long long they could live, they would never be able to sustain populations in the thousands.

Yun Song strongly suspected that it was General Klaas of the Army who had taught them how to use medical pods. After all, the Wislanders certainly had the ability...

... And plenty of reason to do so.

“Let’s not talk about that now. I’m glad we got to fight alongside you all today...” His gaze lingered briefly on Old White’s bulky exoframe. He raised a fist and tapped it against his shoulder, surprised.

“That’s the one from before? Incredible... You guys actually fixed it.”

Old White smiled.

“The internal components were modified a bit. It’s not as advanced, but still works.”

At first, Ample Time helped patch it. Later, after the Enterprise delegation came to Clearspring City, he bought extra parts from the Long Axe Group.

Yun Song sighed emotionally, “Exoframe from the Prosperity Era is far better than the postwar models. It’s a shame we don’t have the ability to fully restore it.”

After a pause, he looked seriously at Old White and asked, “I’ve checked, none of the people we’re looking for are here. What do you plan to do with these... Survivors?”

Old White glanced around and replied casually, “Same as always, once they’re healed, send them to the House of Refugees.”

Yun Song blinked. “What’s that?”

“A kind of shelter, like a relief station.”

Yun Song was slightly taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to him that the New Alliance had such a facility. He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “To be honest... sending them off right now might be a merciful act. Very few will recover from this.”

They had once tried placing rescued survivors in nearby settlements, but soon realized it only caused more trouble.

Most survivor camps wouldn’t accept people who’d been captive to Mutant Humans. Even if paid, at best they would offer some food and a corner to die in.

Most survivors never thanked them. Some even hated them for not killing them, or not taking them to Ideal City.

He had once tried helping those extra burdens mid-mission, but after a few experiences, he realized it was only making things harder.

In truth, not all of them had been captured. Many were errors, produced by malfunctioning clone devices.

Sending those mistakenly brought into the world away, to start anew, might actually be a form of kindness.

Old White was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But isn’t that choice theirs to make? At least we’ve done our part.”

They didn’t abandon the people they rescued. Some of those freed from marauder dungeons did eventually choose suicide. But others started new lives, and even found happiness.

“Maybe...” Yun Song nodded respectfully, glancing at Old White and the New Alliance’s troops behind him. “We’ll leave this place to you.”

With that, he turned and walked outside.

The battle was over.

The Pioneer and Shelter 0’s entrance were just nearby.

Before the Enterprise’s leadership arrived, he needed to lead his troops in securing the battlefield and clearing any threats.

Watching the NPC named Yun Song walk away, Old Bai suddenly thought of something and turned to Night Ten. “Right, bring in those NPCs we rescued outside too... Assuming they’re still alive.”

“Roger.”

Understanding the signal, Night Ten gave an ‘OK’ before heading out.

Old White turned his gaze back to the row of medical pods.

The survivors floating inside... While the tanks probably couldn’t regrow limbs, they could definitely accelerate physical recovery.

Functionally, they were similar to the player-used cabins.

𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The only difference was that players’ Nurturing Cabins only worked with matching genetic sequences. They couldn’t be used by others, not even loaned to other players.

As for the cheaper Clone Cabins, those were just save points with no healing effects.

While players likely had no need for these pods, for NPCs with only one life, they were incredibly valuable. They were definitely worth salvaging.

In the wasteland, as long as someone wasn’t killed instantly, even losing arms or legs weren’t the end of the world. They had countless options.

Old White suddenly realized that the Great Desert really did hide a lot of treasure.

Thinking of the legendary Shelter 0, his heart swelled with anticipation...