Chapter 272: The Magic of Money
Excavation operations continued around the clock...
It had been far too long since the fall of the Nyx Civilization. Any traditional printed books or organic records had long since rotted to dust.
Under these conditions, if even one out of ten thousand organic books was preserved as a fossil, it would be considered a miraculous stroke of luck. But even then, there was a high probability the fossilized text would be illegible, providing very limited data.
This reality posed massive hurdles for the Federation’s historical researchers. They could only place their hopes on recovering sealed electronic storage drives or highly durable, high-grade physical collectibles.
Plastics, specialized alloys, and silicon-based microchips were highly resistant to natural corrosion and could theoretically survive intact if preserved in vacuum-sealed environments.
Furthermore, over ten million years ago, the oxygen concentration in Nyx’s atmosphere was incredibly low, meaning natural oxidative decay wasn’t nearly as aggressive as it was on Earth. It was highly possible that sealed vaults had survived the eons...
Of course, over such a massive timespan, solid-state drives could still suffer data corruption due to atomic drift and quantum degradation, creating massive headaches for the informatics teams trying to recover the data...
However, these were engineering problems, and Federation engineers always found a way.
Given the sheer scale of the ruins and the astronomical number of artifacts, more breakthroughs were inevitable!
The Federation was already highly experienced in the art of technological scavenging.
Time was always against them, and naturally developing their own tech tree from scratch was too slow. Scavenging ancient alien garbage was the only way they could survive and thrive in the cosmos.
The Thor caldera was once the largest active geothermal zone on Nyx. Fortunately, the massive volcano hadn’t erupted in millions of years, and its geothermal activity had largely subsided. Consequently, the acidic black swarms no longer nested in the area.
Humanity had the perfect opportunity to unearth a completely intact, ancient metropolis!
Thor City was the undisputed crown jewel of the Balgoria nation, covering a sprawling footprint of 109.7 square kilometers. Like most Nyxian architecture, it featured a massive, three-dimensional, multi-tiered structure, with the vast majority of the city buried deep within the bedrock.
At its peak, an incredible twenty percent of the Nyx Civilization’s entire population resided in this single, colossal mega-city!
Outfitted in thick, custom-tailored radiation suits, the reptilian natives were currently bustling across the excavation site, working shoulder-to-shoulder with human engineers.
As more natives graduated from the Federation integration camps, their numbers at the dig site rapidly expanded.
"Looking at the geological scarring, it’s undeniable—the Nyx Civilization wiped themselves out in a global nuclear exchange. Even after ten million years, the ambient radiation in these blast craters is lethal... We’ve even found the hyper-velocity impact craters from orbital missile strikes! Holy hell, did they intentionally target each other’s nuclear power grids? Didn’t they realize that cracking a fission reactor would cause permanent, catastrophic contamination?" Several Federation engineers stood at the edge of the dig site, shaking their heads in disbelief.
The primary nuclear power plant was located on the extreme outskirts of Thor City. This highly irradiated zone was what the lizardmen had long feared as the "Forbidden Zone."
The residual radiation from a standard tactical nuclear warhead typically dissipates to safe levels over a few hundred to a few thousand years. However, the heavy radioactive sludge leaked from a breached, industrial-scale nuclear power plant is exponentially more persistent. A conventional warhead contains only a few kilograms of fissile material; a massive planetary reactor can contain hundreds, or even thousands of metric tons—a difference of several orders of magnitude.
Furthermore, this subterranean zone experienced absolutely zero rainfall or atmospheric wind, meaning the nuclear waste was never diluted or washed away. It simply sat there, radiating death for ten million years.
"They actually annihilated themselves in a nuclear war... Does that mean as they evolved, they became hyper-aggressive and just burned their world to ash?" Another engineer muttered, kneeling to scan the irradiated mud. The Geiger counter on his wrist spiked wildly. The residual isotopes were still active enough to cause severe acute radiation sickness.
Humanity, an inherently violent and aggressive species, had managed to restrain themselves during the Cold War purely out of Mutually Assured Destruction, terrified of turning Earth into a glowing wasteland.
Yet, this apparently more advanced, highly intellectual civilization had actually pulled the trigger. Did they harbor some deep-seated, ideological hatred that justified planetary suicide?!
It was baffling... A mature, space-faring civilization wouldn’t just nuke themselves out of existence, right?
Or... did they accidentally provoke a vastly superior interstellar empire, and get wiped out by targeted orbital bombardment?
The lingering radiation left massive room for terrifying speculation... The entire scenario was just too bizarre.
While highly radioactive hot spots still existed in certain collapsed sectors, the ambient intensity was easily manageable with standard Federation radiation suits.
After all, ten million years had passed. The highly lethal, short-lived isotopes had long since burned through thousands of half-lives and decayed into stable elements. Only the long-term, low-yield radioactive elements remained... Their alpha and beta emissions were completely blocked by standard-issue hazard suits and lead-lined gloves.
The engineers had to admit, the lizardman recruits possessed incredible potential and a fanatical work ethic. Their claws were surprisingly dexterous, making them perfectly suited for the meticulous, delicate work of unearthing fragile artifacts.
Initially, the natives had been paralyzed with terror when ordered into the Forbidden Zone. But after donning the Federation hazard suits and realizing they weren’t getting sick, their courage swelled. Simultaneously, their reverence for humanity reached a fanatical peak...
This legendary, cursed wasteland, which had slaughtered their ancestors for generations was effortlessly conquered simply by wearing a magical garment! It was beyond their primitive comprehension... It was as if the Federation had literally banished the demons of death.
They worshipped the hazard suits as holy relics, performing elaborate, clicking prayers every time they donned or removed them.
Furthermore, the suits were heavily insulated and featured integrated, battery-powered thermal heating cores to the cold-blooded natives, it was a divine miracle!
So far, the lizardmen had performed exceptionally well during the manual excavation phases, successfully identifying and extracting objects that appeared mechanically valuable... Their large, vertically slit eyes were biologically adapted for the pitch-black environment, actually giving them better visual acuity in the ruins than the human engineers.
The Federation supervisors were highly satisfied with their output. If the native labor force continued to scale up, the human engineers could step back entirely, reserving themselves only for critical extractions and high-level structural analysis.
If the natives could unearth the high-tech industrial factories and national research institutes, it would save the Federation an astronomical amount of human capital and time.
Naturally, the Federation wasn’t so tyrannical as to enforce pure slave labor; they provided the natives with appropriate, highly motivating material compensation.
Relying entirely on the psychological terror of being "Messengers of the Gods" might secure obedience in the short term, but eventually, their fanatical work ethic would inevitably degrade.
Blind faith wasn’t enough to sustain an industrialized workforce. Just as a workhorse needs oats to pull a plow, a comprehensive material incentive structure had to be implemented.
Given the Federation’s current industrial output, feeding and supplying the entire global population of lizardmen wouldn’t even dent their logistics, let alone providing for a few hundred or a few thousand recruits.
Compared to humanity, this native species was painfully primitive; they were still struggling with basic, daily survival. They lacked the cognitive framework to understand abstract concepts, meaning all socio-economic integration had to proceed one step at a time.
Managing them was actually incredibly simple; offering a small, steady supply of thermal calories or synthesized food was more than enough to secure their absolute loyalty.
Providing them with high-quality survival gear drastically boosted their productivity and morale.
Furthermore, the High Council established a policy allowing the native workers to transport a portion of their earned supplies back to their home villages, actively raising the localized living standards of their tribes.
According to sociological surveys, the commodity the lizardmen craved above all else was... liquid fuel!
Federation chemical fuel burned incredibly hot and sustained a flame for hours, making it the ultimate, holy grail heat source for the cold-blooded, geothermal-dependent natives.
The subterranean caverns were incredibly damp, meaning natural combustible materials were extremely rare, and deposits of flammable methane ice were virtually nonexistent in their local sectors.
To the natives, a jerrycan of liquid fuel was a treasure far more precious than food. With a localized heat source, they could activate their internal thermonucleus organs and passively synthesize organic matter, keeping them energized and comfortable for days.
In hindsight, the primitive lizardmen actually had a vastly easier evolutionary starting point than the ancient Nyxians. At the very least, the lizardmen had trace amounts of atmospheric oxygen and could utilize basic combustion... And they were astronomically lucky to have been discovered by the Federation!
Acting on the recommendations of the sociologists, the Federation rolled out a groundbreaking new policy.
To incentivize the lizardmen to work harder and study diligently, the Federation designed a localized economic system and a performance-based evaluation matrix specifically tailored to their psychology.
Under the new regulations, every native worker would receive a standard ’salary’ at the end of a full work month!
This was the first time the lizardmen had ever encountered the concept...
The sheer magic of fiat currency!
Money!
With this money, they could purchase whatever they desired in a massive, specially constructed commissary!
The only prerequisite was... possessing enough currency.
As long as you had the money, you could buy anything!
This massive Federation commissary was built just outside the perimeter of the Thor City ruins, directly adjacent to the primary archaeological camp. It was fully stocked with a wide variety of goods, specifically curated for the native demographic.
After the rules of commerce were explained to them via translation drones, a massive group of lizardmen wandered into the commissary, their eyes wide with confusion. The moment they saw the shelves, they erupted into frenzied shrieks of excitement.
Telescopic Metal Spear: 138 Credits.
"Refined Liquid Fuel: 15 Credits per Liter. (Strict rationing: Maximum 5 Liters per worker, per month)."
Steel Hunting Traps: 39 Credits.
"Binoculars: 198 Credits."
Short-range Walkie-Talkies: 445 Credits per pair.
"Basic Smartphone: 1866 Credits."
Mechanical Music Box: 110 Credits.
...
Yes, it was true! The shelves weren’t just stocked with basic survival gear and metal tools; there was also a limited selection of high-tier electronic devices, such as localized smartphones and musical devices!
Dozens of lizardmen stared blankly at the staggering array of divine treasures displayed behind the reinforced glass, their primal excitement rapidly spiraling into a chaotic frenzy. Several natives lunged forward, trying to grab the items, only to slam face-first into the thick, shatterproof glass with a heavy thud.
You must use "Money" to acquire these items!
This was the absolute, highest law established by the Federation!
Whether their primitive brains fully grasped the macro-economics or not, that was the indisputable reality!
This was the first time the reptilian natives, a species still firmly entrenched in a crude barter economy, had ever been exposed to the abstract concept of "money," and they were experiencing its overwhelming power firsthand. The realization was slowly dawning on them...
It was a blatant, psychological temptation. How could a primitive species possibly resist?
They couldn’t. The natives immediately staged a frenzied, chaotic uprising!
Several lizardmen completely lost their minds, shrieking as they grabbed heavy rocks and frantically tried to smash the reinforced display cases to steal the treasures. The entire commissary instantly devolved into a riot, with other natives eagerly joining in, pounding on the glass.
Less than ten seconds later, several heavy Federation security drones deployed from the ceiling alcoves. They fired stun-bolas, instantly neutralizing the ringleaders. The drones dragged the screaming, convulsing natives away, locking them in holding cages despite their agonizing shrieks for mercy.
The other rioters were promptly hit with non-lethal, high-voltage taser rounds. They collapsed to the floor, twitching and clicking in pain, instantly halting the destruction.
After experiencing the agonizing jolt of Federation electricity, the remaining lizardmen became terrifyingly obedient. Their slit eyes remained glued to the display cabinets, but their bodies stood completely rigid; they didn’t dare move a muscle.
They instantly remembered the absolute laws of the "Messengers of the Gods"—laws they could not, and dared not, disobey.
They slowly raised their claws, awkwardly counting on their scaled fingers, desperately calculating how many days were left until payday...
Only money can buy the magic!
