This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 541.1: Its Too Late...

Bang!

A wisp of smoke curled up from the barrel as he gently blew it away.

Looking at the figure that had fallen in the crowd not far off, the man standing by the window gave a faint smile, retracted the revolver pressed against the sill, and used his raised pinky to brush aside the slightly parted curtain.

Screams and shouts rose and fell, and blood red replaced the sunset hidden behind the clouds... That was indeed the color the street ought to wear.

But the militia were unexpectedly weak. He had thought more would die, yet many bullets merely grazed their scalps.

Were they hesitating?

But he didn’t believe those rioters would spare them.

A wicked grin curled at the corner of his lips. The real show was just beginning!

A lazy female voice came from the bed nearby. "What a twisted hobby. Couldn’t you have done it quietly?"

The man shook his head and said slowly, "That’s too slow... Do you know what it’s like? When a movie finally reaches its climax, someone hits pause. When the powder keg is right there and the fuse inserted, and yet no one dares to light it... The New Alliance, the nobles, even Mr. Fang Ming."

His name was Rhine, from the Bugra Free State, a professional mercenary and also an awakener. Not far behind him sat a woman named Cerit, an assassin from the Dagger Gang in the slums outside the city.

Bugra Free State had laid its plans in Boulder Town a long time ago.

Sigma had taken an interest in something there, something that could help them break free from the control of their ruler at a critical moment.

The shelter of Great Rift Valley was both a blessing and a curse.

Those lords didn’t care how the little people felt. All they saw was the blueprint on their table, making grand gestures from behind a window.

Sometimes, they were right, but not always.

As such, Sigma believed that they needed that weapon!

So when Sid wanted to eliminate Spielberg, the Dagger Gang immediately sent Knife, their assassin over. But to their surprise, just as success was in their grasp, they failed at the final moment. The killer they had sent vanished together with Spielberg.

It was far too strange.

"I’m worried about something." Cerit looked at the foreign man, her lazy voice tinged with concern.

"What is it?" Rhine asked with indifference.

"The city lord, Fang Ming," Cerit said casually. "According to our investigation, he seems to know everything that happens in this settlement. That means he definitely saw you pull the trigger."

Rhine smiled dismissively and waved it off. "Ah, that’s nothing to worry about. If you really did your research, you would know... He only acts in two situations. When dealing with Mutant Slime Mold, and anything involving the Post-War Reconstruction Committee."

And why?

Because that’s just how it worked.

One couldn’t expect a gun to fire on its own, and then also distinguish who was good or bad, who deserved to live and who to die.

The first-generation residents built it, but also feared its power.

After all, humans were fickle. Even those who designed the AI couldn’t guarantee that an outdated operating system would always meet the needs of a new generation. Nor did the new generation fully trust what their predecessors built. If children had always obeyed their parents, humanity would still be stuck in the Stone Age. There would be no Prosperity Era.

Exactly.

Humans themselves didn’t even know where they were heading, how could they expect an AI to figure it out for them and build the road too?

A society completely governed by AI would eventually become a pigsty. No matter how human-like an AI became, it would never be human. The people of the pre-Prosperity Era had already proven that trying to have it both ways was doomed to fail.

Just then, a faint sound echoed from the stairwell outside the door. It was so subtle that one could miss it if not listening carefully, but Rhine caught it instantly.

No longer speaking, he narrowed his eyes toward the doorway, set down his revolver, and picked up the submachine gun with a drum magazine from the table.

Cerit heard it too. She said nothing, silently drawing a dagger and pistol from under her pillow.

Footsteps grew clearer outside the door, each step closer, like a soft knocking on their door. There was no attempt to hide the sound and it stopped directly in front of the door.

No doubt about it, whoever it was had come for them.

And at that hour, no one would be there to clean the room...

"Who is it?" Rhine called out cautiously.

No one answered.

Choosing to strike first, he pulled the trigger without hesitation. His muzzle flashed bright, and the tearing roar of gunfire sent a barrage of bullets toward the door, punching a line of holes through the wood.

But at that very moment, the broken door suddenly exploded inward. Splinters flew like shrapnel toward him.

"Shit!" Rhine ducked and rolled awkwardly toward the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally caught a glimpse of the figure in the doorway.

A black mirrored visor hid her face. In her left hand, she carried a riot shield; in her right, a short-barrel SMG. Her chestplate and shoulder pads bore her serial number, X-16.

"Die!" Cerit's eyes flashed with fury. She lunged like lightning, dagger raised while firing her gun.

Her enhanced bullets struck the shield, spreading fine spiderweb cracks across its surface, but X-16 didn’t budge. She simply raised her SMG and aimed.

At nearly the same time, Rhine also opened fire on her.

Ratatatata...

Orange tracer rounds tore through the air, heating the room with their fury. Cerit rolled violently to evade the crossfire, shouting angrily, "Are you trying to kill me too?!"

"If I wasn’t covering you, you’d be fucking dead already!" Rhine snapped back, cursing, while moving toward the window, keeping pressure on X-16.

She stood firm behind the shield, until suddenly, she discarded the SMG. Her arm flicked, and she pulled out a half-meter-long baton.

Rhine’s pupils contracted. A bad feeling crept up his spine. Without hesitation, he slammed his shoulder into the window and leapt out.

"I’m out! You’re on your own!"

Cerit’s face changed. "I..."

Before she could finish, a blast wave cut her words in half.

The explosion erupted in a flash of fire, engulfing both her and the attacker. He had rigged the room with explosives!

But how had he smuggled them in?!

There was no time to think. Awakner or not, they were still human.

As the smoke cleared, the charred room still radiated heat.

Looking down at the scorched corpse on the floor, X-16 shook her head, dropped the shattered shield, and tapped her temple. "One dead, one escaped..."

"I’m injured. Need repairs."

At the same moment, Rhine hit the ground in the street outside. A groan of pain escaped his lips as he staggered to his feet, limping into a nearby alley.

He had planted some explosives in the room, but wasn’t sure if that humanoid machine had been destroyed.

He had to leave immediately.

Shame about that woman... Though he had to watch out for the dagger under her pillow, Rhine was certain she had been a good woman.

"The inner city... The weapon controller should be inside..." Having retreated to a nearby street, he looked in the direction of the Inner City, gritted his teeth, and muttered darkly, "I need to find a way in."

...

History always advanced through countless coincidences.

Major upheavals didn’t always hide grand conspiracies. Sometimes it was just two rats fighting over oil and knocking over the lamp.

The shootout in the hotel room was a minor episode, but the chaos sparked by the gunshot still raged in the streets. All of Boulder Town had fallen into turmoil.

At the gate between the outer and inner city, soldiers in exoframes had placed barricades and roadblocks.

The Malvern family huddled at the entrance to the inner city.

They should’ve gone in long ago, but now, a serious problem had risen, Elisa was missing.

No one had noticed when she vanished.

When the gunfire broke out, panic set in. Everyone rushed for the inner city, afraid of stray bullets or being chased by the rioting mob.

Maybe she had just fallen and would get up and keep running.

Hopefully...

Kishur beat up the old butler, then ordered him and six servants to retrace their steps and search. He warned them not to return empty-handed.

Wolfur paced anxiously, checked his watch, and muttered under his breath, "The vote’s about to start... We can’t wait any longer."

The sun was setting. His father had yet to return and he had likely failed.

But Wolfur hadn’t pinned too much hope on him anyway.