Chapter 702.1: The Loss Of Order
Rowell Camp.
The heavy rain that had just ended washed the lingering bloodstains from the mud into the puddles by the roadside. Mixed with the earthy scent of wet soil was a trace of blood that refused to fade.
Yet the people here seemed long accustomed to death, so much so that the blood that had stained the streets might as well have flowed in vain.
In front of the gate that had earlier been blasted open by a 100mm shell, a dense ring of impoverished onlookers had gathered to watch. Among them were residents from nearby streets, slaves who had just been rescued, and members of the New Alliance First Avengers Corps standing guard at the camp entrance.
At the center of the crowd stood 10 militiamen. White cloth armbands identifying their status were tied around their arms. Their hands were bound behind their backs with plastic ties. Yet the expressions on their faces varied, some were furious, some indifferent, others defiant, or uneasy and hesitant, as if sensing impending doom.
Not far from them lay two corpses, a man and a woman.
The man looked to be in his early 30s, the woman about 25 or 26 in age. They were likely a married couple. The man’s abdomen had been split open by a bayonet while the woman bore a bloody hole in her forehead. Both were covered in obvious bruises and injuries, and it seemed they had suffered greatly before dying.
Beside the two bodies, two disheveled girls sat curled up on the muddy ground, wrapped in blankets that barely covered them, shivering uncontrollably. Their expressionless faces were frozen with fear, streaked with dull, empty tears and smeared with mud. They seemed to have forgotten how to cry, making only intermittent sounds, like fish stranded on shore.
Seeing the disarmed patrol, the corpses on the ground, and the two girls wrapped in blankets beside them, Peepo could guess what had happened without even thinking. Still, he looked at the four players standing next to the girls and asked for confirmation.
“What happened?”
Mountain River Dreaming stepped forward, retracted his helmet visor, glanced at the disarmed men, and reported the situation truthfully. “... We were taking shelter from the rain near Blackwater Street when we suddenly heard a gunshot. When we came out, we saw those guys coming out of a private residence.”
The action footage had everything recorded. He did not want to describe the scene in detail. Suffice it to say, those bastards had done things that even animals would not do.
From the look on the player’s face, Peepo had already pieced together what had happened. He turned his gaze to the militiamen with white bands tied around their arms.
Though they could not understand what the iron men were saying, they could certainly understand a killer’s look. The man in the lead panicked immediately and shouted, trying to defend himself. “That man! He was a jailer at Rowell Camp! We found an Imperial rifle and prison guard uniform in his house!”
“Can you prove that the gun and clothes weren’t picked up somewhere?” Peepo stared at him coldly. “And who gave you permission to enter their home? Even if he was a jailer, even if he committed unforgivable crimes, what did his family have to do with it?”
The men looked visibly unconvinced, even confusion flickering in their eyes.
The leader fell silent. The man beside him stepped forward instead and spoke. “We went in to take shelter from the rain! And... didn’t you go in too? I saw you coming out of a residential house!”
As he spoke, he turned angrily toward the four iron men who had disarmed them.
Peepo looked at Mountain River Dreaming.
The latter froze, then explained awkwardly. “We did go in, but we really were just taking shelter from the rain, and I paid them. That family can testify for us. If you don’t believe me, I can turn on the action recorder, I had it on the whole time.”
Zero Rush’s face changed.
Holy shit?
If that footage was played, he would never be able to clear his name even if he jumped into the Yellow River! Fortunately, Peepo didn’t do that. He just tapped his VM a couple of times, probably discussing with other players how to handle the situation.
Seeing that things were getting interesting, more people gathered around to watch, pointing and whispering among themselves.
The iron men and the gun-carrying slaves had turned on each other.
They were only curious how this farce would end.
As for the man lying on the ground, it seemed some people recognized him. A few nearby survivors whispered excitedly.
“Abhishek really does seem to have been a jailer at Rowell Camp. I heard someone say it. Might’ve been him bragging though.”
“I heard he was a shoe shiner.”
“Come on, that guy was just a porter, and a drunk who loved to brag. Maybe tomorrow he’d claim he was one of His Majesty’s guards.”
“He had money to buy alcohol?!”
“What money? He squats at the docks every day picking up leftovers from sailors. Last time I even saw someone piss into a bottle for him. He picked it up, took a sip, and drank the whole thing. Then he told us Wislander wine tasted kinda sweet.”
“Haha!”
“Pity his daughters. They were dragged down with their old man, tsk tsk.”
“They don’t look bad, just dirty.”
“After suffering so much, they must need some comfort, heh heh.”
At that moment, a horn sounded from behind the crowd. A desert-colored wheeled off-road vehicle with a machine gun welded to its roof drove over. The crowd quickly made way for it.
The door opened, and Ample Time jumped out. Ignoring the onlookers, he walked straight up to Peepo. “I already understand the situation. Where’s Laxi?”
As soon as he finished speaking, a flat-headed man walked over from the camp gate and bowed respectfully. “My lord, you were looking for me?”
White bandages were wrapped around his arm. A Blade assault rifle was slung across his back, and a scar not yet scabbed over marked his cheek, apparently left from fighting the day before.
Ample Time narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at him without blinking. He asked, “My brothers told you to restrain your men. Is this the result of your restraint?”
Laxi looked stunned. He glanced at the bodies on the ground, then at the men bound with their hands behind their backs, and finally back at Ample Time. “I heard they killed soldiers of the empire.”
“I heard he was killed in his own home,” Ample Time sneered. “And that their bayonets were hanging from their trouser belts?”
Laxi paused. Then he walked up to the ten disarmed militiamen and jerked his chin toward the two corpses and the girls wrapped in blankets.
“You did this?” His eyes were like those of a wild beast, utterly devoid of emotion. One could not tell whether he was enraged by his subordinates’ brutality or sympathizing with the girls’ suffering.
Under that soul-sucking gaze, the squad leader’s breathing quickened. At last, he looked away.
“... I was wrong.” Laxi nodded, as if accepting the answer. He turned and walked a few steps away, then suddenly spun back and flicked off the safety of his rifle.
The sudden change startled everyone watching. Even the ten militiamen staring down the gun were stunned, momentarily forgetting to beg for mercy. Laxi had no intention of listening to their pleas anyway. He did not even give them time for last words, pulling the trigger without hesitation.
A burst of gunfire rang out. The ten bound militiamen collapsed into pools of blood, twitching like punctured balloons.
“Ah!”
The crowd screamed and stumbled backward. The two girls slumped on the ground stared blankly, as if their souls had left them.
After emptying the rifle magazine, Laxi tossed it aside, drew the pistol at his waist, stepped forward, and emptied the remaining rounds into those who were still breathing.
Dead silence fell over the scene.
Whether the militiamen at the gate or the players nearby, everyone was struck dumb by this mad-dog of a man.
Ample Time narrowed his eyes slightly, thoughts unreadable. He neither stopped Laxi nor praised him.
Peepo stared wide-eyed at Laxi, held his breath for a moment, then suddenly strode forward and shouted at him. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Calm down, brother. They messed up, and now they’re dead.”
Forced back a few steps by that aggressive stare, Laxi showed no fear. He continued, calmly and logically. “If you’re still not satisfied, I can line up the rest of their 100-man unit and execute them too.”
Peepo’s eyes bulged. “Are you insane?!”
Laxi looked at the shouting man in confusion. After a long silence, a single sentence popped out of his mouth. “Isn’t this enough?”
Peepo stared at him, momentarily speechless.
In a sense, this man had cleanly and decisively resolved the problem, yet it seemed nothing had truly been resolved.
But just as he said. They were dead. Lives had been paid. Wasn’t that enough?
Those who died were slaves to begin with, free for at most a single day. Aside from their lives, they had nothing else to compensate with.
“Enough.” Ample Time suddenly spoke, breaking the rigid atmosphere.
He walked up to Laxi, patted the mad dog on the shoulder, then patted his tense face, smiling to ease the mood. “Well killed. They deserved it. But the method was too sloppy. You need to establish rules. Tell your men what they can’t do and what punishment they’ll face if they do it, instead of dragging everyone to the square and mowing them down. Otherwise, you won’t win their hearts.”
Laxi bowed respectfully. “Yes!”
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