A huge thank you to Frightened One and Alrazi az for joining as members on my Patreon! Your support means the world to me and truly motivates me to keep creating. As a token of my appreciation, I will provide 2 extra chapters . I hope these chapters add even more value to your experience!
You are both an important part of this community, and I am truly grateful to have you on this journey with me!
___________________________________________________________________________
Ryan, now dressed in a thick cotton jacket, stopped the snowmobile. His previous outfit had been too conspicuous, so he changed into something more fitting for a bandit. Since he had suffocated the air from his clothing, there was no bloodstain, only some dirt.
He wore a pure white cotton jacket, with a tactical vest over it, the source of which was unknown. Several magazines were inserted into the vest, and he had a standard-issue rifle slung over his back. His face was covered with a half mask, leaving only his mouth and nose exposed. This wasn't some simple toy for gatherings; it was a high-tech product that distorted light, creating visual disorientation. It altered his hair color, eye color, and even facial details, making him look like a lean hunter.
He had arrived.
In front of him was a chaotic town, with some beautiful small buildings and vacation villas, mixed with large, poorly constructed wooden houses and huts. The perimeter was surrounded by irregularly stacked containers forming what looked like a wall. Two or three containers were stacked together, reaching four to five meters high, with rough welding marks at the connections. The containers were filled with steel and rocks, and the chimneys in the town emitted black flames that slowly drifted up, blending with the dark sky.
Some people were working in a nearby mine, and modified trucks were hauling various supplies—from food to old machines, even furniture and logs. In the center of the town, there was a communication station, with several radar dishes turning slowly, and an infantry fighting vehicle parked out front.
It was... pretty punk.
Ryan looked around, noticing how the town was both retro and modern, with a mix of steam and cyberpunk influences. It felt like it didn't belong on Earth, but then again, that was the advantage of humanity—they were always able to adapt quickly to new environments, much like cockroaches.
After a brief observation, he rode his snowmobile closer to the gate. It seemed even the gate was punk—built on a tank chassis, suspended by iron chains, and capable of blocking the entrance in case of threats. On either side stood armed personnel carrying rocket launchers and mounted machine guns. Their attire was casual, and next to the gate, a welded iron plate was etched with a skull and a string of letters.
Snow Prison Town!
Hadn't this place once been called "Oumli"? They even changed the name, huh?
Ryan wanted to complain, but before he could, someone stepped into his path. The man wore fur and goggles, holding a heavy shotgun.
"Where are you from?"
"West."
"Why are you here?"
"Looking for some information."
"This isn't your snowmobile." The man gave him a cold look, and the machine guns on either side immediately shifted their aim.
"I told you, I stole it. They tried to rob me, and I killed them. Naturally, the stuff is mine. That's the rule of the snow plains," Ryan replied calmly. He didn't want to kill anyone, understanding how hard life must be for these people.
The man sized Ryan up, who stood there like a statue in the snow. Since this person knew the rules of the snow plains, he wasn't one of those idealistic fools from the outside world.
"Seems like Obin hit a wall. Half the ammo, and if you can throw in a few cans, I'll tell you more."
Without hesitation, Ryan tossed some cans from the back of his snowmobile. He waited quietly.
"You're generous," the man said, taking the cans with satisfaction. He cleared his throat and continued, "You want women? Go to the West District, better quality but depends on luck. Want to find someone? Go to the tavern. Spend more resources, maybe you'll find your friends or family. If you want to go to Gothenburg, go to the office with the radar house. But it's expensive, and there's no guarantee of residency."
The man clearly knew the local area much better than Obin. Ryan was satisfied, tossing two more cans his way. "What about news of the Honkai Beast?"
The man's expression changed, and he scrutinized Ryan carefully. After a long moment, he asked, "Are you a pilgrim? Or a vengeful one?"
"Neither. But I need to find some Honkai Beast."
The man didn't speak, but he looked at Ryan as though he were staring at a dead person. Since The Fire Moth retreated, the area had been chaotic. Some people wanted to get out, and others wanted to get in.
"Flame Tavern, look for Rust."
"Thanks." Ryan nodded and rode his snowmobile straight into Snow Prison Town. The people here scavenged for supplies, but it seemed more orderly than just wandering aimlessly in the snow plains.
After Ryan left, the man motioned with his finger, summoning a lackey.
"Tell the boss, someone from outside came in. Should we keep an eye on him and let him decide?"
"Got it."
The man nodded with satisfaction, watching the snowmobile disappear into the distance. He tossed a can into the air, caught it, and thought to himself, "Looks like tonight, I'll get to sleep with a woman."
Heh, someone like me, a hardened criminal, the best outcome in a protection zone is to become cannon fodder, getting slaughtered by those terrifying monsters in droves. There, that's hell.
Here, this is heaven.
Ryan entered the town and curiously looked around. The place gave off a sense of barbaric technology mixed with a clear divide.
He glanced at the people passing by. Some were numb like the living dead, some were lively, some had a look of devotion, and others were full of hope.
He even saw a church, with a strange sculpture on the roof. On closer inspection, it looked like a corrupted emperor.
"Seems like not everyone likes The Fire Moth or the old world's order."
Ryan shook his head and then noticed the most striking thing about this town—the entertainment industry was thriving.
Women were everywhere in the storefront windows, throwing flirtatious glances at every passing man. The prices were cheap—just one or two cans—and the business was booming. It was barely nightfall, and only the odd ones were left in the window.
Alcohol was also highly valued. In the alleyways, Ryan could see drunk men frozen stiff, with some people, like rats, crawling on top of them, stripping them of everything, including their underwear.
Ryan ignored it. He was just a passerby, one who fully respected others' destinies.
The Flame Tavern was easy to find because the group had set up a bonfire in the open space in front of the bar. Some freezing homeless people were gathered around, warming themselves. Occasionally, scraps of food were thrown out from the bar.
The crowd immediately went into a frenzy, scrambling for the food. A coarse laugh came from inside the bar. Ryan, seeing this, silently shook his head.
This felt worse than a Fallen Zone. At least the survivors there helped each other and worked together to survive.
I wonder if Elysia would be sad seeing this scene.
At that moment, a gunshot rang out, and the people gathered around scattered like birds and beasts, leaving behind a cleaned iron plate.
Ryan glanced at the crowd, who were all huddled in fear. He sighed and walked toward the bar. Two strong men stood at the entrance, each carrying a revolver at their waist.
"Entry fee is five bullets. Handguns or rifles, either will do."
Ryan reached into his bag and grabbed more than five bullets. "I'm looking for Rust."
"To the right of the bar, he has a fixed seat."
Ryan nodded and pushed the door open. Immediately, a wave of heat hit him, and loud heavy metal music pierced his ears.
Inside the bar, there were many people. Lights flickered, and men and women in the center of the dance floor swayed wildly. At first glance, it looked like a nightclub, but a closer look revealed a fundamental difference.
Most people were carrying guns. Illegal activities were happening everywhere. Some people were openly snorting powder, while others were secretly gyrating against the walls. It was chaos.
When Ryan was an assassin, he had visited places like this. Though the atmosphere was more reckless, nothing about it was surprising. He made his way through the dance floor, his eyes scanning over the women in vests or who were barely dressed.
But none of them touched Ryan. An invisible air pressure pushed them aside, and soon, he reached the bar. On the left, a round table sat a man.
He was burly, with a pancake-like face, wearing sunglasses. His blonde hair was braided in Viking-style, and his hands rested on the sofa, leaning back, enjoying the moment. When Ryan approached, the man opened his eyes, clearly displeased.
"What's up?"
"I'm looking for some information," Ryan replied, his expression unchanged, noticing a head poking out from underneath the table.
Rust didn't respond immediately. Instead, he opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and pressed the woman's head down. After several seconds, he finally relaxed.
A blonde woman stood up, looking to be in her twenties. She gave a seductive smile as she took the cans and then glanced at Ryan.
"Special service, want to try?"
"No thanks," Ryan responded flatly. Seeing the woman's disappointed expression, she swayed her hips and walked away.
"You should try. This woman was a linguistics master from Gothenburg. Damn, no wonder she's so good with her mouth. Heh, before the corruption, she wouldn't even look at me." Rust lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "Now, one can gets you a good time, two cans get you a whole night."
"Doesn't she want to go to the protection zone?"
"You think you can just go? Aside from the local lucky ones, you need special skills to get residency rights. A person like her, even if she goes, won't find work. It's the same thing."
Ryan waved his hand, indicating he didn't smoke. He then asked, "Sounds like you're grateful for the corruption?"
"Hahaha, of course, I am. No more annoying backgrounds or laws, no need to bow to a dirty supervisor. And when I was escaping, I saw my chance and chopped that bitch's head off." Rust blew out a stream of white smoke, slowly pulling up his pants, eyeing the masked man. "Here, if you have a strong fist and a sharp mind, you can rise above. No more looking at parents or bloodlines. The Fire Moth were too strict. Even if you committed a crime while fleeing, they'll still pursue you. Who in their right mind would want to suffer like that?"
Ryan began to understand. If you had evidence, The Fire Moth would prosecute. Even stealing a car would get you sentenced.
On one hand, it maintained the law, but on the other, it provided manpower. Many dangerous areas were cleared by prisoners. It might be better to stay in the abandoned zone.
"Indeed, the outside world is freer, but here, it's much more dangerous."
"For those monsters, it's the same. I've checked the data. Big cities are actually the most dangerous. The people in Britain almost got wiped out. When the N1 bomb fell, it didn't care whether you were human or not." Rust snorted, extinguishing his cigarette. "Everyone's going to die. Maybe we'll die a little later, but before we go, we should enjoy some good times. Isn't that more important?"
Ryan didn't know how to argue with that twisted logic. He looked at the chaotic dance floor and listened to the incoherent sounds, slowly understanding the core of the ideology here.
There's no future, so there's no need to worry about the future.
He immediately changed his mind, placing his heavy bag on the table, catching Rust's attention.
"Speak, what do you want to know?"
Ryan pointed at the frenzied crowd, and calmly said, "Everything."