This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 540.2: The Day Has Come

More firewood was added to the fireplace, and the curtains were drawn shut. The little cottage by Linghu Lake grew warmer and warmer. It was so hot that one could sweat inside.

Outside, however, was an entirely different world. The biting wind and snow were like knives, falling from an endless canopy of clouds. Blade after blade, they shredded the snow-clad world to pieces.

In the wasteland, especially in River Valley Province, even a warm winter could hardly be called warm. At most, it only meant that snowfall was delayed by a month or two.

But what was meant to come... Would come in the end.

20 to 30 kilometers from Linghu Lake, the great wall stood like a cold iron curtain amid the wind and snow, mercilessly dividing prosperity from desolation across this wasteland.

On one side of the wall were layers upon layers of houses. On the other were shanties crushed under the weight of snow. Just as most survivors of Boulder Town proudly claimed, even a bit of garbage leaking out from that wall was enough to sustain countless peasants begging at their feet.

Most workers from the canning factory still had a room to live in, even if it was leaky and the wind could get in, but the truly destitute living in the slums at the foot of the wall could only make do in shacks.

Human vitality was astonishingly tenacious.

Where weeds couldn’t survive, people could. Even in places where Slime Mold couldn’t reach, there were still human footprints.

The impregnable city walls towered high, shielding those inside from wind and snow, from Slime Mold, and from the chaos, death, and poverty of the wasteland. Yet those who built them never imagined that the all-consuming tide would come not from beyond the wall, but from its very center.

Angry survivors gathered along the main street. Most were workers from the industrial zone, though there were also some sympathetic citizens and mercenaries mixed in among them.

This time, it seemed more ferocious than ever before. The militia knew that those poor wretches weren’t targeting city hall or the bank. The flames of their anger were pointed straight at the very heart of the city, Boulder Grand Building.

Because of that, those in the inner city completed their mobilization swiftly, even deploying equipment that hadn’t been used during the Tide, forming a tight defensive line to stop the crowd.

"Hand Spielberg over!"

"We will never abandon a single one of our comrades!"

Snow piled on the eaves gave off faint wisps of white vapor, and fragments of snow occasionally shook loose and fell.

The burning roars surged like a tidal wave, forcing even the swirling snowstorm to retreat.

Welon, the commander of the First Battalion, donned his exoframe as he stared at the endless tide of people. Cold sweat poured down his back.

All of them looked like they had swallowed gunpowder! He had never seen so many angry people gathered in one place.

There were probably a few thrill-seeking mercenaries mixed in, ready to light the powder keg at any moment. If possible, he truly didn’t want to fight them.

Compared to them, he would rather face the Tide!

"Residents of the outer city, calm down!" He switched on the speaker of his exoframe and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I’ve checked with the inner city, your friend... Spielberg is still alive!"

Before his words even finished, a furious roar cut him off. "Bullshit!"

"You said he was alive this morning, then at noon you said he was dead, now he’s alive again! What, will he be dead again tonight?!"

"We don’t want to hear your crap! We don’t want to calm down! We want to see him! Dead or alive, we need to see for ourselves!"

"Go to hell, pig in an exoframe! Pah!"

Amid the shouting were mixed in other voices as well.

Some yelled that bread was too expensive. Others shouted about robbing the nobles. Still others simply wanted to take advantage of the collapse of order to line their own pockets.

It was hard to tell who was who.

Yes.

Anyone with eyes could see that even a rotten place like Boulder Town still possessed something as precious as order.

That had nothing to do with good or evil, nor with fairness.

It was just that amid the questioning and condemnation of the people, it had been quietly shaken...

What was gradually losing its effectiveness wasn’t just chips, but also the black cards in the hands of the nobles.

Just as Fang Ming had said, that thing was nothing more than a room key...

The predators who had once tucked their tails between their legs began stirring again, while mercenaries looking to exploit the chaos fanned the flames. Most people knew there were shady bastards in the crowd, but most no longer cared.

Regardless of where the force came from, they only wanted to flip the settlement upside down and rescue their friend from the hands of those bandits!

Welon was drenched in cold sweat. The defense line kept retreating, and he had to remain alert for infiltrators trying to slip past their rear.

Word had it that his superior, General Zhao Yongxu, was already raging at the others in the council hall, accusing them of failing to clean up the mess properly.

The settlement had fallen into the vortex of contradiction.

An alarm blared from the walls, one that was only ever triggered during a Tide. Yet even that shrill siren couldn’t shake the unity of the crowd.

If there was any difference from Ending A that had been simulated, it was the people’s hesitation.

Most of the Workers’ Union didn’t want to escalate things, since they still didn’t know whether their captured comrade was dead or alive.

Citizens had joined the ranks too. Some may have come in the name of justice, but more were driven by a simpler reason, the price of bread was too damn high.

Even the soldiers were starting to waver. Their wallets shrank by the day, and the people before them weren’t just the poor. Among them might be their family members, the seemingly well-off citizens.

Even Welon himself, a black card holder, was starting to hesitate.

No one knew those soldiers better than he did. They were fine bullying the poor and were fine standing up to the Tide. Now... They were supposed to face off against too many of their own people...

He could feel their doubt and uncertainty.

Those not caught in the chaos tried to flee the city, while wastelanders hoping to profit from it cursed the closed gates. To prevent further deterioration of public safety, Boulder Town’s militia had shut all outer gate access.

Previously, those who were trying to enter were merely advised to stay away. If they insisted, they could still go in. But now, entering was impossible, and so was leaving.

A large crowd had gathered outside the city gates.

Some had made it out before the lockdown. They stood in the cold wind, trembling and hugging themselves, looking around in confusion, unsure where to go next.

Most had brought little with them, just pockets full of chips no one in the outside world accepted. There was no telling when, or if, the gates would reopen.

Before them lay the wasteland, the man-eating wasteland.

They no longer even knew whether hell was inside the walls, or out.

Some regretted escaping, others regretted not trying harder to sneak in.

Most wastelanders had an inkling of what was going to happen. The bustling casino of a city was about to reshuffle the deck.

And in every reshuffle, the guy with the biggest fists always came out on top. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"Damn it!" Staring at the sealed gates, Peepo and Kidney Warrior both looked devastated.

They'd heard from the NPCs that this sort of limited-time event only happened once every 20 to 30 years. They had almost made it in!

Compared to their deaths that would refresh their lives every three days, a rare event like that was clearly more valuable!

It was a massive loss!

As the two were stewing in regret, a man in a thick cotton coat approached them and whispered, "Hey, are you from the New Alliance?"

Peepo looked up at the man and nodded. "Yeah, what about it?"

The man's eyes lit up, and after a quick glance around, he lowered his voice. "I’m with the militia."

Kidney Warrior chuckled and shook his hand. "What a coincidence! We’re from the Burning Corps."

"Burning... what?" The man was momentarily confused but didn’t care much. He continued, "Whatever. I’ve got something good. Are you interested?"

Peepo leaned in curiously. "What kind of goods?"

"People. Or to be more specific... Beautiful noblewomen," the man said with a waggling eyebrow, clearly excited. "Interested?"

"What the hell! Human trafficking?" Peepo recoiled immediately, glaring warily. "We don’t do slaves! Don’t even think of scamming me!"

Kidney Warrior backed him up, shouting toward the sky to signal their stance to the devs. "Exactly! We’re not those kinds of players!"

Those NPCs were getting trickier by the day.

Always coming up with new traps to get them banned.

A few unlucky players had already nearly fallen for them before, thankfully, their teammates had talked them down in time.

As trusted comrades of their brother, Ample Time, the two fools had actually read the Player Handbook. The shelter didn’t restrict player-NPC interactions or forbid relationships, but it explicitly banned slave ownership. Any purchased or accidentally obtained NPC had to be set free.

What was written in the Player Handbook functioned as law. It didn’t contain many rules, but they were binding for residents of Shelter 404.

And unlike New Alliance laws, the rules in the handbook applied even outside the New Alliance. As long as one remained a shelter resident, the rules followed.

If anyone found it too much trouble, they could just return the helmet and drop out of the game.