V. Diplomatic Victory

This place is some sort of anti-aircraft facility, yet it appears to have been flooded at some point, and it has now become the domain of moss, vines, rats, and insects.

I walk forward, the ground sticky beneath my feet. Every step is a struggle, and the air is so heavy with the scent of chemicals that I am forced to pull out the secondary oxygen mask from my kit.

Something must have happened in this cellar; cockroaches and rats lie dead in droves, carpeting the floor and drawing even more of their kind to feed. The cruelty of nature is starkly evident here. I push through the remains of the dead and living vermin, staying alert. They do not dare attack me, and I have no desire to attack them.

At a corner, someone is lying in wait. I stop, and for the sake of caution, I apply a dose of hardening solution. A man darts out, pointing his gun at me from a distance. I aim my gun back at him, and he shouts, "Halt! Who goes there?"

They are human—perhaps bandits, but certainly not Black Coffin Rangers. I retort, "And who might you be?"

In fact, there are six of them, emerging one by one from the corner. Five guns are trained on my head, though with my iron lotus armor and the hardening solution, I should be able to withstand the fire. These people arrived before us; they are the ones who slaughtered the rats and roaches here.

One of them is dressed quite conspicuously; he appears to be a priest of the Era Empire, wearing an oxygen mask that resembles a raven’s beak, much like an ancient European coroner.

I ask, "With the Era Empire?"

The man replies, "A Black Coffin Ranger?" There seems to be a microphone inside his mask that makes his voice clear.

Before I can answer, the priest commands, "Seize him!"

I immediately turn and bolt. They open fire, but I am quick as a rabbit, moving in a serpentine weave, and all their bullets go wide.

I remember the internal map; this cellar is like a vast and complex labyrinth. They may not know that I am heading for the generator room, so I can take a detour.

Following a circular tunnel that was once meant for vehicles, I descend another level. It is even more damp and dark here, with no signs of the Sun-Infected for the moment.

Suddenly, I sense something wrong. Hearing a low, rumbling sound of water, I grab the vines on the wall and climb up. Below, a surging torrent rushes past. The stench of the flood is even more pungent, seeping right through my oxygen mask.

That stingy bastard Mask—this is a matter of life and death, doesn't he know that scavenging gear shouldn't be compromised in the slightest?

The flow settles, and there is no longer any footing below. Yet, those rats and cockroaches emerge to drink the floodwater until their bellies swell.

I think to myself, "Is this chemical wastewater? Is it part of the circulation system? Do these animals live off this water?"

It seems this wastewater hasn't killed them; on the contrary, it has made them unnervingly large.

Suddenly, the wastewater drains away. Some of the bloated rats and roaches lie still, and I see a group of obese humanoids running along the water channel. They are covered in rolls of fat, hairless, and look almost identical, possessing the same ugly, stupid, and fierce faces. Each is two meters tall. They grab the rats and roaches, biting into them as if they were eating roasted meat.

The chemicals and the scene make me feel deeply sick. I don't know how humans can adapt to this extent for survival—who are they? Are they some kind of low-functioning twenty-tuplets? How did they fall into such a state? And how have they formed this bizarre ecosystem with the rats and cockroaches?

I suppress my revulsion and mutter, "Forget the underground; the key is on the surface. I’m going to start the generator."

Only five of the twenty-tuplets are eating; the others stand there blankly. The appetites of those five are enormous. After an hour, they have cleaned the place out. I notice that all twenty of them have grown slightly fatter, making it impossible to tell who ate and who did not.

After they leave, I reach the generator room and flip the switch. The current surges, and the room lights up.

I ask, "Faja, is there a network connection here?"

Faja replies, "There is."

I exhale in relief and say, "This place is just too awkward and filthy—more disgusting even than the Sun King."

***

Faja says, "Hold on, I am reading the data. Done. The drug you are looking for is called 'Gusi Ether Vitamin,' and there is currently no stock left."

I am deeply disappointed. "What do I do then? Do I have to use other methods to replenish Lady Yaochi's magic?"

Faja says, "I know of no other methods."

I sigh, "It’s quite simple. Just find someone who also possesses magic power within them..."

Faja says, "Shut up, I don't want to hear it."

I laugh, "So you do understand, you little devil."

Faja says, "The network files here record the formula for preparing Ether Vitamin. You can go to the raw materials room, collect some ether base and vitamin syrup, and then place them into a portable reaction furnace."

A route map appears on my retina. I sigh, "Fine, and here I was, ready to sacrifice myself and risk my life to replenish Lady Yaochi’s body."

Faja says, "You don't have that capability at all."

I say, "Trying is better than not trying. I’m doing this to repay a debt, nothing more. Don't look at me with jaundiced eyes."

Faja says, "The image I have of you could not possibly get any lower."

That hurts, Faja. She’s just an old lady; could I really find pleasure in that?

For now, I have to follow Faja's instructions. I really don't want to run into that group of ugly, obese pigs again; by comparison, the cockroaches seem almost cute.

The route Faja indicates is only traversable by a monkey, but fortunately, I am no less agile than one. She has me crawl into a ventilation duct, and after removing a few grates, I arrive at a laboratory that is still relatively clean. It has two levels and is as large as the Henry Mansion. The smell of chemicals along the way had me completely disoriented, but thankfully, I have a high tolerance for drugs.

Faja says, "The remaining ether raw materials are in the B12 cabinet on the right, and the vitamin syrup is in A33."

After I find them, Faja directs me to place them in the portable reaction furnace and adjust several parameters. The furnace begins to synthesize the drug.

At that moment, the Era Empire soldiers rush up the stairs and surround me. I am startled, realizing the effect of the Odin’s Eye has worn off. They have small propulsion devices strapped to their legs, which seem to greatly enhance their jumping ability, as they just leapt over a four-meter-high staircase in a single bound.

The priest sighs, "My thanks, Ranger. We also came here in search of drugs to replenish our magic. Had it not been for you, we likely could not have prepared this."

I ask, "You use magic as well?"

The priest replies, "The higher-ups within the Era Empire are all adept at this, and all the technology we use utilizes ether energy to one degree or another."

I say, "If there are so many mages among you, can't you use that method... to replenish each other... you know."

The priest laughs, "That method does not exist. It is merely a deviant path concocted by ancient mortals for pleasure. Usually, our magic regenerates on its own, but in the event of excessive consumption, we are forced to rely on these specialty drugs from the Charon Company."

A soldier of the Empire places his hand on the reaction furnace and says, "We must take this back to the Empire as well."

I ask, "Has the Imperial Army pushed as far south as San Francisco?"

The priest shakes his head. "We do not belong to the Imperial Army, but to a mercenary company within the Empire—the Simon Magnus Black Gate Group. We are under the orders of Cardinal Simon Magnus to come to San Francisco and spread the Cardinal's great faith."

I say, "That old geezer again."

***

The soldiers are furious, but the priest waves his hand to calm them. He says, "The Cardinal has humanity’s best interests at heart. His faith encompasses the power of magic. The survivors in the wilderness, once they believe and learn this doctrine, can gain magic power and protect themselves from demons and the harsh environment."

I say, "Can we strike a deal? You take the machine, but leave the medicine inside for me. I have a friend who needs it urgently."

The priest says, "As far as I know, all mages in the world should be under the jurisdiction of the Era Empire. Is there really such a fugitive mage hiding in Black Coffin?"

I reply, "Bullshit! Who says all mages belong to your Era Empire? Who says only you mages have use for these drugs?"

The soldiers shout, "Enough talk, finish him!"

I draw my gun and say, "Who’s looking to die and doesn’t know their place?"

The priest stares at my gun, then suddenly breaks into a smile. He says, "Your gun... are you also with the Bounty Association?"

This leaves me even more confused. I ask, "What Bounty Association?"

He points to the frame of my gun, where I see the spray-painted words: "IBA—Born for Security." I remember Mask picked this cheap piece of junk up at a second-hand market.

The priest says, "IBA is the acronym for the International Bounty Association. In the last century, this was a global cooperative organization. Cardinal Simon still takes pride in being a commissioner of the organization."

I am certain I have no connection to this organization, but the man’s attitude is so friendly that I can't help but try to bluff my way through.

I laugh, "Ah, I remember now. Yes, I am indeed... employed by... such people."

The priest shakes my hand and says, "Comrade, the medicine inside is ready. You may take it."

Thank goodness, I bluffed my way through. Could Mask’s "cheap gear" theory actually be correct? These cheap items might be unreliable, but they bring good luck?

I say, "Many thanks, comrade."

The priest says, "My full name is Loti Lehmann; you may call me Loti. In fact, the International Bounty Association still exists and is still operational." He hands me a small booklet and says, "You can follow the instructions in this booklet and use this gun to collect warrants and bounty missions at certain locations."

I ask, "Is that... Association also part of the Era Empire?"

The priest says, "No, it has never belonged to any country, and certainly not now. The Association is very mysterious; even the Cataclysm could not disrupt it. We all benefit from the Association, and the Association can feel our contributions."

I take a large jar from under the reaction furnace containing at least a hundred ether vitamins. Hopefully, that is enough to replenish... replenish Lady Yaochi's body.

I say, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Loti. My name is Longinus. Give my regards to Cardinal Simon."

Loti says happily, "If you are interested, you are also welcome to listen to the Cardinal’s teachings, though unfortunately, I have no time right now..."

As he speaks, I accidentally glance to the side and see that the glass on both sides is crawling with those bizarre, obese, monstrous people. They stare with wide eyes, looking at us with the same fierce and greedy gazes.