It didn't take much effort to arrest Condra.
The Free State Guard's hovercar parked directly on the balcony of his spacious apartment on the 33rd floor, and in less than two minutes, they dragged him out of bed.
Not even the neighbors next door were disturbed.
The guy didn't dare to step out of the Free State at all, even if the Alliance didn't bother him, the survivors of the River Valley Province wouldn't let him go.
Let alone Lord Sigma.
Having been involved in so many conspiracies, that big shot wouldn't let him leave at all; if he wanted to live, he had to become a well-behaved pig.
Joining the Southern Legion was just a way to save his life and follow the trend with Firestone Group's tacit approval.
After all, Lord Sigma hasn't wanted the Manager dead just for a day or two.
So why not take advantage of the Southern Legion?
The moment he was led onto the hovercar, Condra already understood his fate.
The time to slaughter the pig had come...
...
The holding cell at the Guard Bureau.
Mayor Otto went to visit Condra, who was waiting for extradition.
Recently, this guy was on the cutting edge of public opinion.
The Firestone Group was trying to use its media matrix under its subsidiary to portray Condra as a peace warrior resisting the Alliance, and attempted to convince the Free State's residents that the Free State was forced by the pressure from the Grand Canyon to humiliatingly violate its own laws and hand over this brave Weilante to the unreasonable Alliance.
Initially, Otto even doubted whether anyone would believe such bullshit. No matter how you spun it, turning an arms dealer into a peace warrior was an insult to intelligence. Eventually, he realized that the people who voted for him were stupider than he imagined, and he just let it go.
It made sense.
Otherwise, how did this pig become the mayor?
For the sake of putting on a show, he had to accompany this "tragic hero" through the longest half-hour of his life in the holding cell and leave with a semblance of reluctance at the end.
To pass the time, he cleared his throat and initiated the conversation.
"...Mr. Condra, I'm sorry about your case. Due to pressure from all sides, we can only hand you over to the Alliance."
"This humiliating moment will forever be remembered by the residents of the Free State..."
Halfway through his words, Condra suddenly burst into laughter.
Otto's expression was somewhat awkward, but there were no cameras here, so it didn't matter to him. He just shrugged and stopped talking.
"Okay, if you don't want to listen... do you have anything you want to say? Or, would you need me to pass a message to someone for you?"
Looking at the formally dressed man in front of him, Condra, dressed in pajamas, grinned.
"I have nothing to say... I devoted my whole life to the Legion and got used by you guys in my later years. Now I've been drained of my last use. Anyway, I'll die on the road, carrying all the secrets I know, so what is there to say?"
Otto squinted his eyes slightly, looking at him with interest.
"You know you'll die?"
Condra curled his lips disdainfully, the corners of his mouth lifting as if in a cold smile.
"Is this something that needs guessing? Everyone in this city, me, you, the guards outside, the citizens on the streets, and the employees of the company... each is a pawn of Sigma."
Otto's Adam's apple moved.
"And so?"
Of course he knew.
But so what?
The Firestone Group did lots of bad things, but how should the order and stability it brought be counted?
At least the residents of the Free State could do decent work and not have to fight with the scavengers over garbage to eat.
Even the garbage that leaked from their mouths fed quite a few useless people.
To be realistic, he didn't think being a pawn was so bad.
Seeing Otto's indifferent look, Condra laughed softly.
"So I know my fate very well. I don't find it unacceptable... You see, I didn't even beg you guys."
"I'm glad you think that way." Otto took a sip of tea from the table to conceal his nervousness.
But his micro-expressions didn't escape Condra's eyes.
Watching the slightly trembling index finger, Condra smirked mockingly.
"You're happy too early."
Before Otto could respond, he continued in a slow voice.
"Take a look at your predecessor, the last leader of the Free State. Have you heard about his news? I bet you never really cared. It's understandable; who would care about a failed stray dog?"
"However, I was quite familiar with that guy. You know I like collecting red wine, and so did he. Occasionally, we'd exchange our tastes... Yet suddenly one day, he vanished without a trace, right after he stepped down from the public eye."
As he recounted those old stories, Otto couldn't help but swallow another mouthful of saliva.
"So? You probably want to ask me that, right?"
Watching Otto's complex expression, Condra happily continued, as if wanting to speak all the words of his next life.
"I guess you think I'm talking nonsense and despise us sorry dogs... but I'd kindly advise you, don't be happy too early; you'll face the same fate, what happened to me will sooner or later happen to you."
Otto finally couldn't help but interrupt his output.
"You're saying these to… expect me to save you?"
"Hahahahaha."
Condra suddenly burst into laughter, mockingly staring at the tense Otto, then abruptly straightened up, quickly closing the distance between them.
Thinking he was about to do something like biting off his nose, Otto suddenly dodged, only to see the man, handcuffed, remain motionless and just stare fiercely at him with bloodshot eyes.
"What do I want to do? You think I'm begging for mercy? Revealing the truth to you? Or Sigma's handle? I'll tell you, none of those matter. I want to plant the seeds of fear in your heart…"
And then?
Otto tensely awaited the continuation, only to see Condra suddenly slump back into his lethargic demeanor, sitting back in the chair.
Wearing his pajamas, the man resumed a sleepy appearance, like a lamb resigned to its fate.
Otto suddenly felt mocked, and the status disparity between them further filled him with humiliation.
But at that moment, the sound of knocking came from outside the detention room, and a guard wearing an exoskeleton pushed open the thick iron door.
"Mr. Mayor, time's up."
Otto hurriedly stood up, pulled away the chair, and walked to the door, glaring fiercely at the man named Condra before leaving.
"Hurry up and take him away."
The guard nodded.
"We'll follow protocol."
The iron door closed again.
Otto took a deep breath, adjusted his emotions, and walked to the waiting cameras outside, presenting to the public a mayor bearing humiliation and stress.
Yet, throughout the latter half of the event, he was not in the zone.
The bloodshot eyes haunted his mind, as if they had left an imprint on him.
Everyone was his pawn…
And the fate of pawns is generally the same…
Sitting in the hover car, his heart was pounding; he stretched out his pointer finger to turn on the holographic TV in the car's rear seat, attempting to divert his attention.
However, the news unfolding on the screen made his heart clench instantly.
"... Around noon today, the police escort vehicle transferring Condra to the Alliance was attacked by unknown armed forces about fifty kilometers from the Free State."
"The identity of the assailants and their motives remain uncertain, all five guards and the detainee aboard the vehicle were killed."
...
Condra's death shook the entire Free State, yet compared to the overall situation on the Wasteland, it was as light as a feather.
The Alliance's Minister of Justice expressed concern, hoping the Free State's judicial department would assist the Alliance in uncovering the truth.
The judicial department of the Free State naturally agreed, but whether it was "there is effort even without achievement" or "simply too lazy to even make an effort," all depended on Lord Sigma's mood.
As everyone knows, the Firestone Group is the true master of the Free State.
As for the civilians in the Free State, they are divided into two factions, arguing fiercely over who killed their "Weilante hero."
As for the Weilante themselves, they don't remember having such a hero.
The only ones who might have heard of this name apart from the Weilante living in the Alliance could be the Eastern Empire's Emperor Salen.
But he is currently busy taking over the "legacy" of the Southern Legion and is uninterested in dealing with the remnants of an eastward expansion faction.
General Kras's political legacy is nothing more than a Falcon Kingdom, and he sent a governor there long ago to take charge.
Meanwhile, the news of Evernight Harbor's fall continues to brew.
Shocking not only the Survivor Forces across the Wasteland, undoubtedly including the Southern Legion, this Sufferer.
Even after numerous obstacles, the news quickly reached Yavente City.
The sudden defeat instantly shattered the illusions of victory held by millions of Weilante residents in the city, adding panic to those already grieving for Marshal Julius.
It was only then they awoke to the fact that the reports continuously published in the "Southern Corps Victory Report" by their beloved Legion Leader Teil were all lies!
In retrospect…
The enemies they killed in the newspaper almost outnumbered the survivors in the Eastern World combined, where did they find so much cannon fodder to kill?
They were simply not marching from one victory to another, but step by step heading towards the center of the swamp!
At this moment, even the most deluded Weilante came to realize that their situation was perhaps more perilous than they imagined.
Like most lies.
The sole function of lies is to borrow time from the future, trading for promises that might be fulfilled later.
And because of this, it is destined to be exposed one day.
The fall of Evernight Harbor marks the turning point of all this.
With the loss of Evernight Harbor, it means the Southern Legion completely lost the key to the Eastern World, and nearly a million troops stranded in the Poluo Province war zone would completely lose logistics support!
Not even Mr. Hauser's mouth could twist failure into victory this time.
The Alliance no longer needs to do anything on the Poluo Province front line, they could even withdraw their troops directly, handing the defense area over to the already matured Poluo Country Army, and turn to attack the Southern Legion's homeland…
If that really happens, the entire Southern Legion will be placed in jeopardy.
They invested too many chips in the Poluo Province, it's almost impossible to muster another million troops in a short time.
Especially after losing Triumph City and the support of the Eastern Legion and Western Legion...
Due to the bad news from the front lines, the entire Yavente City was in turmoil, and tickets for ships and airships to Triumph City had doubled unknowingly.
Besides ship tickets and airship tickets, the prices of all kinds of basic living materials are continuously rising.
On one hand, there's indeed a shortage, on the other hand, someone is hoarding, but more importantly, it's the pessimism towards the Dinar itself.
The New Continent issuing its own currency is a foregone conclusion, they've long wanted to sweep heavy and difficult-to-mass-produce precious metal currency into the dustbin of history.
The Eastern Empire and Northern Empire might have the same plan.
No one is sure whether the Dinar, stripped of its currency attribute, will appreciate or depreciate, both directions have historical precedent.
Yavente City is restless, and so is the Southern Legion's headquarters.
The long conference table was filled with Ten Thousand Leaders, their golden medals formed a continuous line like an indestructible Wall.
However, the expressions on their faces were not relaxed, each mouth tightly closed, nobody spoke.
Seemingly unwilling to waste more time in silence, Teil, standing at the head of the conference table, unusually did not let the Chief of Staff begin, but slowly spoke.
"I want to hear everyone's opinions."
Murmurs spread across the conference table; the officers looked at each other, but after discussing for a long time, they failed to come up with any ideas.
Some wiped sweat off their foreheads, some held their breath and glanced around seeking something, others tried suggesting solutions to reverse the defeat, like mobilizing one million reservists or increasing the output of clone pastures... But everyone knew these were not real solutions.
A local war is one thing, but a full-scale war is a clash between two systems, and now the forces of both sides are imbalanced.
Having failed to completely tie both the Army and all Weilante people to their chariot, the fact is, they've already lost.
However, no one dared to speak this truth.
Admitting defeat often requires more courage than facing death because the latter only sacrifices one's life, while the former can extinguish their flesh and even completely negate the significance of their existence.
This is something they could never accept.
If they cannot pull all Weilante people onto the chariot, then at least let the Yavente City's "chips" fight to the last!
Even if it means selling their own soul—
Nearly every officer present thought this, including Teil, who had already sold his soul to the devil.
Seeing the helpless "mortals," Teil sighed softly.
He seemed to see Salen.
Many, many Salens.
Mortals are always bound by immediate interests, forgetting more long-term benefits and ideals, and their mission as Weilante people.
That guy could have joined him to establish a world belonging only to Weilante people, yet he cowardly chose to be a ridiculous emperor.
These guys are the same.
No one could come up with an idea that made him see hope; in the end, he still has to rely on himself to make a decision.
"...I got the Gene Source Code from Triumph City."
Hearing that dignified voice, all the officers at the conference table quieted down, and pairs of surprised gazes turned toward him simultaneously.
Gene Source Code.
They certainly knew what it was, but what puzzled them was why Legion Leader Teil was mentioning it now.
Even if they enhanced Weilante people's gene source code now, producing stronger super soldiers than Weilante people, or making clone soldiers grow at ten times the speed instead of eight, it would still be too late, and their researchers might not be able to do any better than those from a century and a half ago.
Though judging by the Chief of Staff's expression, he seemed to know something.
The officers exchanged glances, finally a three-star Ten Thousand Leader swallowed hard and stood out to ask.
"...May I ask what use does this have?"
Teil did not answer but clapped his hands.
The meeting room door swung open, and a seemingly unimpressive man wearing flat glasses walked in from outside.
Looking at that flat nose bridge, the three-star Ten Thousand Leader slightly furrowed his brows.
"Who is this?"
Martin, who had walked to Teil's side, stopped and nodded respectfully.
"My name is Martin, from Shelter No. 68 located in the Great Desert, and I am a biologist."
Upon hearing the word shelter, a trace of disdain emerged in the three-star Ten Thousand Leader's eyes.
"A shelter person... What are you here for?"
Faced with that sharp gaze laced with arrogance, Martin smiled unfazed.
"Naturally, to save you all."
"Save us?" The Ten Thousand Leader burst into laughter, eyes mocking as he looked at the man like looking at a clown, "When did we need a Blue Ground Squirrel to save us?"
Martin shrugged helplessly, glancing at Legion Leader Teil by his side.
"Dear Mr. Teil, I am not very good at talking, could I trouble your subordinates to be a bit quieter?"
Teil nodded and looked at that three-star Ten Thousand Leader.
"Sit down."
The cold tone carried an undeniable majesty.
So much so that in that instant, the Ten Thousand Leader suddenly had the illusion of being watched by a beast.
A drop of cold sweat slowly slid across his forehead, and he finally gritted his teeth and sat back down in his chair.
"It seems I can begin now."
Looking at the yielding officer, Martin said in a relaxed and cheerful tone, then took a holographic computer pen from his pocket and placed it on the conference table.
Light blue particles floated up from the conference table, condensing into a three-dimensional image in the air.
Seeing the confused gazes directed at him, Martin spoke succinctly.
"The 'Mortal Serum' plan, this may be the first time you are hearing about it, but in fact... we have been preparing this decisive weapon for a long time."
"To efficiently eliminate all troublesome life on the Earth's surface, apart from physical means like neutron annihilation, there is no more reliable method than a virus."
"To achieve our goal, we have been actively conducting experiments since the beginning of the war, even sending research teams to the front lines of the battlefield for this."
"As it turns out, Poluo Province is the most suitable testing ground. The survivors there come from the old world's center, with much richer genetic samples than other regions in the Wasteland. Thanks to that rich diversity, our experiments have gone smoothly, and we have now basically achieved the fully formed 'Mortal Serum' with both infectivity and destructiveness..."
"Wait." Martin's words were abruptly interrupted by an officer who suddenly stood up, "I roughly understand what you mean; you intend to use the virus weapon to destroy the Alliance."
"Precisely," Martin nodded with a smile, "as I said, it is the simplest and most efficient way."
The officer stared at him intently and continued to ask.
"But how do you ensure that this virus is ineffective against the Weilante people?"
"This brings us to the Gene Source Code we just obtained."
Martin tapped lightly on the holographic screen, and soon the light blue particles transformed into several DNA helix diagrams.
"We only need to slightly modify the Mortal Serum to make Weilante people carriers of the virus without exhibiting symptoms. Although I'd love to explain the feasibility of this academically, I assume you wouldn't understand. You can simply understand it as... the purer the Weilante bloodline, the less affected they are by the 'Mortal Serum.'"
Upon hearing this, the conference table was in an uproar, with officers exchanging varied glances.
Some were astonished, some excited, and others anxious.
Soon another officer stood up, swallowing hard, and asked.
"Is this... reliable?"
Martin nodded slightly.
"I can stake my life on it."
"I have another question," the officer who had previously questioned him continued to stare at him intently, speaking word by word, "You are not a Weilante, are you... what's the benefit of studying this virus for you? Or, what is your motive for doing this?"
Martin chuckled and said.
"I've already explained this many times to Legion Leader Teil, but since you're curious, I'll repeat it once more."
Pausing, he continued with a slightly disdainful expression.
"The benefit for me is being able to clear up some troublesome cockroaches. The reason this world has become like this is because those ugly creatures keep reproducing, spreading their filthy ideas and bloodlines continuously... that is the source of the Wasteland Era. You are willing to exterminate that group of lowly mutants, and I naturally support you."
"As for myself, you needn't worry. Since I can create this virus, I have ways to develop a vaccine."
"At worst, I'll transform myself into a Weilante."
The Weilante plan itself is an intermediate product of the Perfect Life Form project, even if the Weilante acquire the world, it wouldn't matter.
At least according to him, it doesn't matter.
In fact, not to mention the Weilante, even if the mutants conquer the world, he could accept it.
They are all intermediate products of the Perfect Life Form project.
As long as the Perfect Life Form project is completed, and the original is overwritten with a higher form of life, human civilization can complete the final "dimension upgrade."
Of course, these matters are unimportant to the ants present here, and these big-nosed ones do not need to know at all.
Including that Legion Leader Teil.
This group of guys may have advanced genes, but their vision hasn't caught up. With their vision, at most they can see as far as world conquest, not reaching the height of civilization.
For example, right now, this group of guys is still furious over his statement "At worst, I'll transform myself into a Weilante."
However, they have the right to be angry.
As long as Legion Leader Teil "understands the bigger picture," his plan can continue to be implemented.
And as developments unfolded just as he predicted, Teil only pondered for two seconds before asking the practical question.
"When will this decisive weapon be ready for deployment? The Alliance's Biological Institute is quite capable; can they possibly develop a vaccine exempting from the virus?"
"After obtaining the Gene Source Code, I can complete the last brick of this structure within a month," Martin said with a delighted smile, pausing for a moment before continuing, "As for your second concern, I can responsibly tell you."
"I used biological technology unique to Shelter No. 68 when designing the Mortal Serum, which is not in their technical reserves."
"Unless they can find researchers from Shelter No. 68, they can think till their heads explode and still not find a way to crack it."
It's not just Shelter No. 68—there's also the technology left by the Torch Church brought by celestial beings!
Even the Academy can't crack it!
The officer standing at the conference table stared at him intently.
"What if they find it?"
Martin laughed mockingly.
"Find it?"
"My home was long ago ransacked by those stupid Waste Land Wanderers!"