John parked in a public parking lot, surrounded by vehicles of all kinds. The people coming to Radiant Dust Farm were quite diverse, ranging from gang members to business elites.
The business has expanded, exposing him to a wide array of lowlifes.
John rarely saw a few familiar faces.
The Wanderer arguing with a cargo driver in the parking lot spotted John's vehicle, then his face, and froze on the spot, forgetting about the argument as he stared at John.
John responded.
The seasoned Wanderers remained passionate and free-spirited.
Newcomers were more affected by the management rules and appeared somewhat constrained under Radiant Dust Farm's system.
John stood in the familiar sightseeing elevator and soared into the sky.
There was no change in the division of labor within the super skyscraper. Seeing the vegetables and meat carefully tended by machines in the experimental environment still elicited a fairly awe-inspiring feeling.
The elevator stopped at a bustling floor.
Here, instead of divided office cubicles, two floors were opened up to form a comprehensive office space.
LCD screens and city maps hovered in the center.
Mobile cables and data lines trailed across the floor, metal stools and cobbled-together tables lined the sides. Even after moving into the city, the Wanderers retained their work habits from the wasteland camps.
Familiar faces grew more numerous.
And everyone seated here had heard the news of John's survival, so there were no outbursts of surprise.
John walked across the hall, guided by others to move further in.
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Find Nando. (Not Achieved)]
There were several adjoining rooms here, with varying sizes, but none had metal magnetic doors; they still used traditional locks.
[Open. (Optional)]
John breezed past one room, saw the task prompt, and instinctively grasped the handle and gave it a gentle twist.
The door was unlocked.
Inside was a lounge equipped with a bathroom and gear rack. The bed was industrial-style, similar to the one in John's apartment; a cursory glance showed it was a single man's room.
No one was inside.
John exited and, with a quick glance, spotted a familiar item on the bathroom sink.
He wasn't a doctor and wasn't familiar with medications.
But he had just seen this item, subconsciously stepping back and scanning it.
[Agent: Inhibitor H01]
[Manufacturer: Gaia Cells]
When a prosthetic body is implanted in a human body, the immune system identifies it as a foreign object and initiates an attack. Inhibitors are used to suppress the immune system's rejection reaction, ensuring compatibility between the prosthetic body and native tissues.
This is an inhibitor for the regulation phase.
The inhibitor number should be between H05-H09.
The doctor prescribed this category for Gaf, as an insurance measure for the prosthetic body surgery, assisting in patient recovery and adaptation.
Prolonged use of high-intensity prosthetic bodies can lead to nervous system collapse, hallucinations, and mental diseases.
That's where H01 and Omega-type inhibitors come into play.
They act on the nerves, and also destroy them, generally known as Martyr GTX.
Who is using this stuff?
John was contemplating when he suddenly realized someone was standing behind him, quickly drawing something to stab at him.
Sianweistan activated.
John leaned forward and bent down, narrowly avoiding the attack, drawing the [Sora] from his waist in sync with the Combat Chip's movement.
Buzz—
The high-density carbon fiber laminate sliced through the air.
A faint red stream from John's waist traced a clear upward arc, the IV-grade sharp blade instantly severing the opponent's weapon.
John turned his body, the blade rising with his arm, seeing a face both familiar and strange.
[Name: Red Falcon]
[Faction: Damascus]
A few strands of red hair floated in the air.
Red Falcon raised both hands, wide-eyed, with a look of daze and bewilderment.
She held a cut sausage in her hand, the other half just then plopped and rolled towards the far end of the floor.
"Wow."
Red Falcon stood straight, glanced downward, saw a tactical knife crossing her artery, then her gaze met John's, and a somewhat awkward tone floated out.
"Hello?"
"Fack, I thought you left the city."
John retracted his weapon, suspiciously eyeing Red Falcon.
He certainly remembered her.
Four months ago, in John's memory, it hadn't even been a few days since he had personally dug out her prosthetic eye.
"Clearly, I haven't. I'm working with Damascus now, Nando's one of the better employers I've encountered."
Red Falcon tossed the remaining half of the sausage to John.
"The Wanderers hold you in high regard, they say you're amazing, so I couldn't resist the urge to play a little joke."
John evidently didn't care, instead asked.
"Whose room is this?"
"Nando sometimes rests here." Red Falcon rubbed her cut hair, then asked, "Is there a problem?"
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Inquire about the inhibitor. (Optional)]
[Conceal the doubt. (Optional)]
"I'm here to talk to Nando."
"Oh, he's on the rooftop. Alonna is there too."
Red Falcon pointed to the elevator behind him.
John stood inside the cabin, staring at the constantly rising floor numbers, with no extra thoughts.
Nando nearly lost his life in Silver Port.
The Wanderer Clan equipped this outstanding leader with a powerful prosthetic body, and the surgery allowed him to return alive to Eden City, but prolonging life comes at a price.
John understood this very well.
The elevator reached the rooftop.
The cabin doors opened, and the hot wind swept across the body, not as scorching as four months ago, yet still uncomfortable.
Alonna sat beneath the sunshade net.
She wore a gray vest, cobalt blue eyes, calmly watching as John approached her.
With sunglasses on, Nando stood beside, holding a cigar. "Look who's crawled out of the grave?"
He clamped the cigar in his mouth, raised his hand to shake John's, then pulled him close, patting his shoulder as a greeting.
"Welcome back."
"You've got quite the grip there."
John emotionlessly complimented.
He considered mentioning the inhibitor matter, but ultimately said nothing.
"Really?" Nando puffed out smoke, opening his hand to display surgical scars. "And this leg, all high-end goods, back then I survived on extracorporeal circulation, lucky to live through it."
He paused, pursed his lips. "Damn it, why am I saying this? You've been away for four months, definitely not unscathed."
Nando opened his arms again.
"Damascus always welcomes you, John. You've seen the chaos in the city now. Our business is thriving, whether you want leisure days or battles, we can offer whatever you need."
"Again?"
"Come on~ I heard, you want to open your restaurant. Any franchise in the city is yours to choose, supplier numbers abound, any little creativity you want can be realized."
Nando offered a price higher than four months ago.
John didn't respond, just said.
"I intend to take Gerry and Maya."
"You're blaming me, John. Your expression practically says I haven't taken good care of your employees."
Nando shook his head, sucking on his cigar, his slightly recessed eye sockets obscured by sunglasses, his prosthetic eyes unclear. "The Wanderer Clan has its own rules. I can offer you everything you want, but that's respect earned through your actions. They can't; the minimum guarantee is fine, other things need to be earned, otherwise, it's unfair."
"I totally understand, really."
"You hate me, John."
"What? Why would you think that?"
"Four months ago, you wanted to be the Lone Wolf. Now? You want to handle things; I saw it at a glance. But why still refuse to work with me? If the clan is too large for you, I said, find a franchise and go hang out, do whatever you want."
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Join Damascus. (Optional)]
[Refuse. (Optional)]
