This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 543.1: Collapse

In the broadcasting room of the Voice of Boulder Town...

House trembled as he looked at the mob storming into the building, then glanced at Joey, who was standing with them, and stammered, "Centurion Joey... You... What are you doing?"

The K-10 Iron Wall exoskeleton was a prized product of Boulder Town Arms Industry. It was usually equipped by frontline officers like heavy infantry or centurions. It was said to be able to kill a two-headed oxen with a single punch.

Of course, those who wore it usually used guns, rarely engaging in close combat.

Because he knew the strength of the armor, House was nearly scared out of his wits when he saw the fellow standing before him.

Joey looked at House with a trace of disdain in his eyes.

He never liked House, though he once entertained him briefly. Ever since newspapers came around, he realized that the man never spoke a word of truth. His words were as empty as the nutrient paste they consumed.

"Come, bring victory and glory to our children. Be their example." Joey turned to glance at Lorette, Elisa, and the workers' union members. "I’m leaving it to you."

Lorette nodded and walked up to House. Staring at House’s pale face, he said, "We need to borrow the broadcast system for a moment."

He said they needed to borrow it and made it seem like he was asking for permission, but House didn’t dare say no. He nodded like a pecking chicken, squeezing out a flattering smile on his pallid face. "Please, go ahead! Shall I help set up the equipment for you, honored... Worker Sir?"

Seeing the wood shavings on his pants, he was probably a high-level carpenter.

"No," one worker snapped and walked over, pushing House aside with a look of disgust. "I’m the granddaddy who made your damn equipment. Fuck! I’m annoyed just hearing your voice now."

Another laughed out loud. "Haha! Yeah! Your voice is even worse than when I saw wood in my workshop."

"House, why don’t you try quacking like a duck? I bet it sounds better than your stupid voice on the radio everyday!"

House’s face flushed and then paled in turns. It was contorted as he was brought to the brink of tears.

Just then, someone coughed. "Ahem! Quiet everyone. We’re not here to take revenge. We’re just taking back what was always ours!"

Lorette pulled the nearly piss-his-pants House out from the crowd, patted him on the shoulder, and led him by the neck to the front door of the office. He kindly reminded House, "Go home... don’t go out after dark. Wait till the gates open and think of a way to escape without being seen. We won’t beat you up now, but that doesn’t mean other people won’t."

"Thank... Thank you!" House was so touched he wept, thanked them a dozen times, and then scrambled out the door like a rat fleeing into the snow, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Watching his figure disappear into the night, Lorette chuckled, shut the door, and returned to the crowded broadcast room. He took the microphone that had been tuned by a fellow worker.

He cleared his throat, ready to speak, but a crisp voice cut in from the side. "Please wait!"

Everyone turned to look at the little girl who had spoken.

Even under the gaze of countless eyes, Elisa was no longer afraid. She continued speaking with a sincere voice, "We prepared what to say, or rather, we have an outline of a script. Everyone will hear your voice. What we need to do is to accurately transmit this not just to those in the outer city, but those in the inner city as well. At the end of the day, we need to have a step by step plan on how to obtain victory, and what changes will happen after we win."

In her eyes sparkled a wisdom and courage far beyond her years. The experience seemed to have caused her to age several years overnight.

Lorette saw a shadow of Malvern in her, but she was also entirely different.

But what did it matter?

Bore and Stephen were also the same people, just that their way of thinking differed.

She was Malvern’s daughter. It was perfectly natural that she resembled him. If she didn’t resemble him at all, that would be truly frightening.

"She’s right." Lorette set down the microphone and looked toward the members of the union. "We need a proper plan, and to tell our fellow comrades the true reason we are rising in revolt. We are here to spread justice, not to cause chaos for the sake of doing it."

One of the workers nodded. "That’s right. We also have to tell those mercenaries to keep themselves in check. They better not think that they can do whatever they want just because they have guns!"

Watching everyone excitedly tossing out ideas, Elisa's rosy cheeks lit up with a joyful smile.

Finally, people were listening to her. And not just one person either. There were many people who actually cared about what she had to say.

Truth be told, she wasn't without ideas. She believed that her future self would definitely come up with something better and more mature than just crying.

"We don’t wish to destroy everything we already built, but we want a fresh start!" Lorette glanced at the union workers around him and spoke sheepishly, "How was that for an opening line?"

An electrician gave a thumbs up. "Perfect!"

Encouraged by everyone, Lorette began improvising like Spielberg reading the newspaper.

"... We can destroy the Stephans that have been built, but those invisible Stephans cannot be wiped out easily. We are the specters of those invisible Stephans, but they are the same..."

Joey coughed. "Wait, that line could use tweaking. Apart from us union folks, many don’t know the story of Bore the Awakener. They might think it’s some wild myth."

"Right, and those lines are a bit too heavy for now. Save them for the victory speech," Elisa agreed. "Let’s use the simplest words to tell everyone what they have to do."

Lorette scratched his head like the New Alliance administrator. "Right..."

Most workers had only heard about Bore through word of mouth anyway, and the snow hadn’t been falling for long when Spielberg had already been taken.

Everyone had heard a different version.

If Spielberg was still alive, once they rescued him, they had to make him finish writing the story!

Everyone fell into deep thought together.

Some suggested improving labor conditions, others suggested lowering bread prices. Some proposed taxing the rich... Those suggestions, while diverse, all felt like scratching an itch through thick boots.

Suddenly, Elisa remembered the New Alliance’s Law and the declaration made by the administrator during the celebration. An idea struck her. "We need a Charter!"

Joey frowned slightly. "Do you mean we need a set of laws? Boulder Town has a set of laws already."

"But the inner city nobles don’t need to follow them!" Elisa stared at him with bright, unwavering eyes. "As long as one has a black card, they won’t be punished even if they break the law! However, they could bring away Spielberg because he broke the law, right?"

Joey nodded. "It was the city militia who took him away."

"Things must change! Otherwise, no matter what we do, this will eventually happen again!" Elisa’s eyes blazed as she clenched her tiny fists. "The inner city must release Spielberg! From today on, we need to come up with a set of laws everyone has to follow! We must take back the power we once granted to the black card!"

Joey stared blankly at the little girl in front of him.

He suddenly felt that the risk he had taken where he staked his future and life, was not meaningless. Perhaps, after the sun rose the next day, something really would change in their settlement.

Perhaps his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would one day remember him with pride.

In the name of the Great Stag God... Though Boulder Town had never had a king, if Elisa wished to be crowned, he would pledge fealty to the queen.

Lorette also stared at her in a daze, murmuring softly to himself, "Bore... It’s Bore... She’s Bore?"

He remembered Spielberg had written about how Bore had snapped his black card...

...

There were no eternal emperors, and no everlasting nation.

Two centuries of stumbling around in the dark had not been in vain.

It was precisely because people had enough of the savagery, gnawing on raw meat and drinking blood that they dared to borrow fire from the heavens to dispel the dark age.

When people finally learned to light their own fires, the priests who had once watched over the flame quietly withdrew from history.

There was no regret for those who watched the others learn the way of fire. For if he did not step into the new era... His people would one day be consumed by darkness.

The old man who designed Boulder Town might have predicted that day would come. It was a future that no computer could have predicted.

He led people to build the great wall, designed their homes, entrusted their descendants to its care, and planned for its eventual demise.

It was, in truth, a gift.

Only life that had a beginning and an end could be called true life. Only things like stones remained cold and hard, never changing.

In its final moment, it became human. The children it watched over, after long slumber, finally saw a new dawn.

Faced with unavoidable danger, the people came together again.

They lit fires together, shoulder to shoulder, just like their ancestors two centuries ago! They were united against the world shattering disaster.

They sat by the fire, side by side, regardless of wealth or status, young or old. Here, there were no poor and rich. At that moment, nothing else mattered.

Tomorrow, they would all be the same.

They tossed chips into the flames.

Watching yellow and green sparks dance above the fire, smiles returned to the children’s faces.

Someone began singing. Someone strummed a six stringed instrument. Someone turned their stories into poems, teaching them to the children to sing.

Suddenly, winter didn’t feel quite so cold.

The workers brought food from the warehouse and shared it with everyone. After all, their bosses had long fled the city.

Of course, they didn’t just take it for free.

They left behind slips of paper, checks once issued by their bosses. It was time to cash them in.

The Workers’ Union seized Voice of Boulder Town's broadcast system and, through a representative named Lorette, announced the manifesto of the uprising over the airwaves.

It was a message for the inner city nobles, and it was also a message for themselves.

The endless cycle ended right there and now. After the eternal night came a new beginning.

The sun would not rise just because people needed to wake up. But the sun would always rise.

That was an unchanging truth and destiny...

...