Chapter 698.1: Follow Me, Go Get Your Guns!
At the same time that the portside was packed with people, a livestock transport ship moored beside the docks was likewise crammed full of ragged figures.
Their expressions were vacant, their eyes numb, just like the two-headed cattle stuffed into the neighboring freighter.
At that moment, several men in exoskeletons boarded the deck.
One of them sliced through the chain on the iron gate with a plasma cutter, while another stepped up in front of the crowd, switched on his helmet’s speaker, and shouted, “You’re free.”
The deck was deathly silent.
Faced with the commotion at the bow, those faces remained unmoved. Not a single person even looked their way.
Old White couldn’t help feeling a little awkward.
The players beside him exchanged glances and murmured quietly to one another.
“What are you thinking?”
“Army’s clones?”
“Haha, same thought.”
Seeing Old White at a loss for words, Ample Time sighed, walked over, and patted him on the shoulder. “That won’t work... let me do it.”
He stepped forward and shouted in Federation language at the crowd crouched on the deck. “We are the New Alliance, an alliance formed by survivors standing together.”
Old White looked at him in surprise.
Ample Time shot him a reassuring look, then gazed down at the bowed heads and raised his voice. “Before coming here, we met some of your compatriots who suffered as you did. Their diligence, optimism, and courage left a deep impression on us. No matter how bad things got, they never gave up, stifling, sweltering holds, journeys with no end in sight, the scorn of others, and everything else you can imagine.”
“Later, we found a place that could take them in. We gave them some spare timber and dry grass, and before long they built rows of houses along the beach. Then we gave them land and seeds, and they immediately turned it into fields and plantations. All it took was a helping hand, and they knew where to go next.”
“I thought that since you were their comrades, you’d be somewhat like them. But when we stand here, you look at us with the backs of your heads.”
His voice was swallowed by the waves crashing against the ship.
A few people lifted their heads, but after less than a second of eye contact, they quickly lowered them again, as if their eyes were something filthy not suitable for looking at others.
Ample Time watched them, pity in his gaze.
Something similar had happened in Boulder Town, but when the whip cracked, people there would at least flinch. Even before the New Alliance arrived, blood had flowed again and again.
That was why, no matter how powerful Sid was, he never dared go too far, when it came time to put on a show of legality, he still had to go through the motions.
The Poro Province was different.
When the noose was placed around their necks, they accepted it gladly, pinned their hopes on reincarnation in the next life, and even learned to breathe through their asses instead of their mouths.
“... The Empire enslaved your parents, your brothers and sisters, your wives and children, sold you to mines, quarries, plantations, anywhere they didn’t want to go themselves. And you just squat here, staring at the sea like livestock.”
“Were you born for this? Look at my eyes! If you don’t dare, then look at the ship beside you, the pigs and cattle locked in cages. What’s the difference between them and how you look right now? A bunch of hyenas wearing human skin tell you to squat, and you obediently squat. Do you know what we do in River Valley Province? We skin them alive and stew them into soup!”
“Only beasts belong in cages. You should be forcing them in here, not squatting on this broken ship for them!”
“Get up! All of you!”
The roar was like a thunderclap, shattering the waves against the hull and smashing the shackles wrapped around their hearts.
The bowed heads finally lifted, along with knees that had been touching the deck.
The eyes that looked up no longer avoided contact.
Some were filled with shock, some with surprise. Some burned with raging fury, others still held a trace of confusion. But whatever it was, it was better than the previous stupor.
Seeing eyes that were finally human again, and people rising one after another, Ample Time nodded with mild satisfaction. “Good. It seems you have some courage, though not enough. What you lack, we’ll lend you.”
As he spoke, he drew a pistol from his waist and hurled it hard onto the deck toward the standing crowd.
Some flinched aside in alarm. Some clutched their heads and crouched back down. But others reached out bravely. In the end, a broad-shouldered man with cropped hair grabbed the gun.
He clenched it tightly, raised it high above his head, and stared without blinking at the man in the exoskeleton.
Ample Time liked that look. Generosity and bravery could be faked, but instinctive reactions couldn’t. Even in this heap of hopeless mud, there were still people worth saving.
“Tell me. Tell me your name! Tell everyone your name!”
Veins bulged in his neck as the man roared with all his strength, “Laxi!!”
Several players standing behind Old White and Ample Time nearly lost control of their expressions, but their helmets spared them from notice.
Ample Time, eyes blazing, shouted back without his expression changing. “Good! Laxi, from now on, you’re the leader of these people, the commander of the New Alliance First Avengers Corps!”
“There is no need to wait until tomorrow! We’re going to skin those hyenas and see what ugly faces they hide beneath right now!”
“Follow me, go get your guns!”
“ORAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Almost the instant his words fell, a deafening roar erupted across the deck. One by one, the murky eyes were completely ignited by fury and desire. They gazed feverishly at the man at the bow, as if looking upon a god.
Behind Old White and Ample Time, several players exchanged astonished looks and whispered over their communication channel.
“Holy shit.”
“What does Ample Time do in real life, anyway?”
Old White looked at Ample Time, confusion on his face. “Aren’t we here to put them all under control?”
According to the original plan, towing the slave ships to French Fry Harbor would’ve been enough. Their friends were there and someone would teach them how to start new lives.
Handing out guns now was clearly adding complications to their plan.
Watching the boiling mass of freed slaves, Ample Time smiled faintly and said softly, “What’s the use of taking these people to French Fry Harbor? Do we need slaves? The way they looked just now, pay me 1,000 Dinars for each of them and I won’t want them.”
Old White was about to suggest the approach from the House of Refugees, but quickly realized it would work too slowly. Practice had shown that House of Refugees did help many helpless slaves learn skills and reintegrate into New Alliance society, but their very operating model meant there was a limit to how many they could handle.
