Chapter 979 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 979: Retribution In the dark, damp confines of the cell, three sides were formed of windowless concrete walls, with only one side being a barred wall equipped with a visiting window and an iron door. A man in prison garb sat in the iron chair at the center of the cell, under the glaring brightness of an incandescent bulb above. The room was steeped in a metallic and rubbery odor, making the gray concrete walls feel even more oppressive, eerie, and numbingly cold. This was the interrogation room of Avent City’s 11th prison, which had questioned war criminals from the Southern Legion and Tyre's servants just a week before. At this moment, the prisoner being interrogated was a disciple of the Enlightenment Society. Two Viland guards sat on either side of the desk outside the interrogation room. Unaware of the full circumstances, they assumed this man to be an ordinary petty thief. The brawnier of the two, playing the bad cop, glared with eyes like brass bells and loudly demanded, "Spit it out! Name! Age! Organization! And... where did you hide the Academy’s research vessel?" He flipped through the files just to understand the crime this guy had committed, yet remained clueless about what this research vessel was. A research vessel? There’s no sea in Avent City; how did this thing vanish here?! The reality was, not all Viland residents were well-versed in the Academy's affairs. In fact, most Viland people merely thought of the Academy as "slugs in a swamp," with their scant knowledge being gleaned from sparse words in the "Southern Legion Victory News." How many of those words were true was anyone's guess. Faced with the inquisitive spouting, Flynn kept his eyes shut, silent and composed, not intending to utter a single word. From the moment he was caught, he had been as good as dead. His only regret might be that he hadn't died yet. But in the grand scheme of things, that was insignificant. Long ago, he had prepared to sacrifice for his ideals, knowing well this day might come. Hence, no matter the dirty tricks the guards might attempt, none of them could coax even a single word from him! Previously, inmates sitting in his place would appear despondent and defeated, but for the towering guard outside the iron window, it was his first encounter with such a stubborn prisoner. Seeing no response after a prolonged questioning, he jumped to his feet, slamming the desk. "Silent, huh? I think you're itching for some punishment!" Seeing him produce a key, poised to enter and fix the guy up, an older guard hastily reached out to stop him. Seeing his elder colleague's intervention, the burly guard barked, "Don't stop me! No one can today! I'm teaching this one a lesson!" The older guard pleaded, "Calm down! Don’t be rash! The Alliance advised us to merely watch him. If we can get him to talk, great—if not, there’s no rush to use tactics. They’ll find a way." "Damn it! I can't stand this!" "Listen to me, let it go..." "…" Listening to this duet, Flynn felt not the slightest of fear but rather a bit of amusement. Is that all? Seems the Alliance isn’t so formidable after all. These guys can't shed their civilized façade. Thus, with little effort, Flynn weathered the first round of interrogation, all a bit too easily for his liking, fostering some disdain towards the Alliance's methods. Time passed, Flynn growing bored to the point of almost dozing off, when soft whispers and footsteps approached from outside the barred door. Seemed it was just an appetizer earlier. Clearly, the Alliance's interrogators weren’t planning to let him off easily today, and he likely had another round or two to face. Flynn’s eyelid twitched slightly as he conserved energy, then resumed his usual expression, calmly sitting there with his eyes closed. Just as Flynn prepared for what was to come, defense ready for any approach, Fang Chang, on the other side of the iron bars, was sizing up this immovable man. "Has he confessed?" Facing Fang Chang's inquiry, the guard appeared a bit awkward, handing over an empty logbook. "No... You said to just watch him without using tactics. So we asked casually, but he didn't cooperate—not a single word." Nodding, Fang Chang didn’t press further and motioned for the guard to hang onto the book and pencil before pulling a chair to sit at the viewing window. "I'm a resident of Shelter 404, name's Fang Chang. I heard you’re also from a shelter?" The mention of "shelter" prompted a slight response from Flynn; he opened half an eye, taking a glance at the man across the iron window, but soon after shut it again. Fang Chang raised an eyebrow. "So you’re not from a shelter?" Flynn let out a cold chuckle, speaking in a blasé tone, "Shelter 68, Flynn... But telling you doesn’t mean a thing, our shelter hasn't existed for a long time." "Shelter 68, Flynn," Fang Chang nodded, gesturing to the guard to note it down before looking back at the man behind the iron bars, speaking warmly, "Our database doesn’t record such details, but it’s never too late to start one. There are many like you in the Alliance, shelter residents living well, coexisting harmoniously with other wasteland dwellers." With a lack of interest, Flynn merely curled his lip. "If you plan to persuade me this way, save your breath." "I'm not trying to persuade you, there's no need. We will know what we wish to learn shortly," Fang Chang spoke nonchalantly, unaffected by Flynn’s scorn, continuing, "By the way, do you know where you are?" Flynn didn’t respond, nor did he care to. That didn’t faze Fang Chang, who continued as if talking to himself, "This is Avent City’s 11th prison where Southern Legion war criminals are tried. You’re no more clever than them, and neither is your organization. We defeated the Southern Legion and Tyre; we can defeat you just as easily...like squishing an ant." Flynn sneered, "You sure talk a lot." "My comrades say you talk quite a bit too; how come you’ve run out of words here?" Fang Chang said with a smirk, glancing at his watch, and continued in a casual manner, "Time's almost up. Just making conversation, don’t take it to heart." Flynn remained guarded despite the comment, briefly curling his lips. "Give it up. I won’t tell you a thing." The words emerged softly, like a serpent’s hiss. Looking at the defiant man facing his fate, Fang Chang suddenly chuckled, "Alright, I get it." With that, he took one last glance at the time, then rose, giving a succinct directive to the nearby guard: "Transfer him to Room 101." This guy was wanted by the Academy anyway. Might as well let them handle the interrogation. That Jiang Xuezhou should be ready by now. The guard stood straight, right fist pressed against his chest seriously, "Yes, sir!" With a wave of his hand, Fang Chang casually strolled out the door. Following the order, three burly guards entered through the iron door. Leading them was the same guard who'd previously threatened to show Flynn a thing or two, grinning grimly as he cracked his knuckles. Flynn showed no fear—yet, as he watched Fang Chang's departing figure, an unsettling premonition stirred inside him. What’s his plan? Why was he so confident they could crack him? The three guards gave Flynn no time to ponder. Two flanked him on either side, while the third unshackled his cuffs and leg irons. The moment his restraints were released, the two guards promptly pinned his arms back, escorting him out the door. In truth, these actions were entirely redundant. To prevent any attempt to bite his tongue, they’d injected him with a muscle relaxant. He was barely stronger than a newborn at this point. With a mental sneer, Flynn let the guards drag him out, from the confinement of his cell to what they called Room 101. Surprisingly, Room 101 wasn’t set up like an interrogation room, but resembled something akin to a server room. Rows of light green cabinets sat nestled in the corners of the room, with cables of varying thicknesses tangled like a mess of yarn. The sole chair in the room was a "dental surgery chair" sitting at the center—an ominous intuition told Flynn that this menacing chair was intended for him. What on earth did these people plan to do? A faint sense of panic arose within Flynn. The calmness in his pupils faded, replaced by a primal instinct to struggle. However, the guards flanking him showed no mercy, forcing him down onto the chair and fastening him with shackles that bound his hands and feet. "Thought you were tough? Let's hope you don’t wet yourself later,” the brawny guard sneered, giving Flynn's face a condescending pat. He wasn’t entirely sure what the Academy had planned, only aware that a Class C researcher would be handling the proceedings. Must be pretty high-level, he thought. Flynn's gaze bore into the back of the hulking guard until all the guards exited the room, allowing him to begin assessing his surroundings. The man called "Fang Chang" wasn't here. Instead, a familiar-looking pair—a man and a woman—stood in the room. Flynn’s pupils constricted as he recognized them as the couple who had ambushed him earlier in the sewers. Seeing Flynn fixated on him, Night Ten cheerfully waved. "Flynn, right? We meet again." Flynn glowered at Night Ten, then glanced at the woman fussing with vials and syringes, forcing out a hoarse voice, "What kind of trickery are you up to…" A truth serum? Hallucinogenics? Hmph, those psychological drugs wouldn’t affect him. “You mean this?” Night Ten’s gaze followed Flynn’s to the nearby cabinets, and he smiled, “Oh, this? You’d call it a memory extraction device.” Flynn’s expression flickered, but only for a moment. “Memory extraction device? Don’t kid me…how could you possibly have such a thing?” Watching Flynn put on a brave face, Night Ten chuckled. “No need to doubt. Dawn City does possess one—it’s just not here.” Flynn let out a cold laugh, feeling slightly relieved. Although he didn't know where the Alliance had acquired such technology, thankfully, it was far from here, across a desert, and not easily fetched. Yet, just as he thought this, a cold voice pierced his thoughts, making his heart leap into his throat once more. “There truly isn’t one here, but creating one on the spot? That’s no challenge.” Jiang Xuezhou, having finished the preparations, turned, her expression blank as she handed a prepared syringe to Night Ten. Nodding in understanding, Night Ten clasped the syringe between his fingers, striding towards the surgical chair. An expression of terror overtook Flynn as he instinctively recoiled, only to find himself firmly bound, with nowhere to escape! Though his instincts shouted that creating one "on the spot" was nonsense, the confident demeanor of the man approaching him was without flaw. The advancing man and the expressionless woman further away stirred him to shout again, as if to convince himself, "Stop bluffing! You think memory extraction technology is some commonplace trinket? It’s the result of a decade’s worth of sociological expertise—" “A decade’s accumulation?” Jiang Xuezhou’s gaze turned icy, as if looking at a squirming insect. “Full immersion virtual reality tech, merely used to induce subconscious memories via continuous neural signals, digging out deep-seated memories within the brain. Ten years for that? Really?” The reason she knew so well, of course, was because she had once experienced it. Flynn looked at Jiang Xuezhou fearfully, at the syringe nearing his arm, his throat moving, yet no words forming. He didn’t know the origins of memory extraction; he only knew the device could squeeze secrets from the brain like squeezing sugarcane. Those who went through the system often ended up like vegetables; thus, within their organization, it doubled as a deterrent and punitive measure. Having never violated or betrayed his organization, he naturally hadn’t faced such measures... And that’s why he didn’t know how to combat it! Jiang Xuezhou looked at him impassively, her cold voice continuing. “... You think that’s profound technology? We’ve avoided creating it solely to prevent a day when some fool uses it on us.” “But you’re an exception, because you are those fools, and I feel not a trace of guilt using it against you.” “I’ll never forget what you did to me, and now, it’s time for you to experience it yourself…” “Enjoy.” She then turned to Night Ten—the one who had once dragged her from her nightmares. Seeing her speech concluded, Night Ten wasted no time. He jabbed the needle into Flynn's arm, then lightly patted the horrified Flynn's shoulder with a grin. “Good luck. Just imagine it’s a bad dream.” Jiang Xuezhou’s nightmares had snow? And hyena-like hybrids? Unaware of what made snow and a few hyenas terrifying, he trusted Jiang Xuezhou's assurances that with this device, they could extract every thought from a brain. So he'd take her word for it. Night Ten had faith in her skills. Flynn tried to voice something, but before a sound escaped, a powerful gravitational force enveloped him, wrenching his heavy consciousness from his body. It felt like an out-of-body experience! Yet, alongside his soul, his senses and memories were being sealed away! He forgot his own name. Floating for a moment, detached from his body, his consciousness was quickly absorbed into an endless black abyss, and then plunged into a vast scarlet. It was as if residing within his own heart—or standing at the Earth’s core! Much later, a sharp needle-like itch erupted over his body, swelling swiftly into a searing blaze. “Ah—!” Unable to bear the extreme pain, Flynn wanted to scream but found his voice silenced, forced to silently wail in a void devoid of time and space. His soul became a vessel for endless terror. And in the cycle of hyperspeed iterations, those fears, and fear itself, began to materialize, growing more and more vivid! It felt like his cells were burning… As if plunged into magma! The boiling lava soon morphed into something else. He tried to discern what enveloped him, only for the heat to transform into his greatest dread… Fire? Why was it fire? No one asked him. It was a question he directed at himself. Just as this bewilderment surfaced in his mind, the burning gates of Shelter 68 appeared before him. Not merely Shelter 68’s gate; through the raging inferno, he saw many familiar yet distant faces! His omnipotent father, gentle mother, energetic sister… a kindly neighbor family, benevolent administrators, and close friends and a girl he once admired. He had long locked these familiar faces deep within his memory, yet the scorching flames extracted each one without exception. And it wasn’t just them— But the marauders who murdered them too. “No—!” Bloodshot eyes, Flynn roared, struggling in vain to save them from the marauders. However, the ten-meter bridge stretched infinitely, unattainable despite his frantic run, until he collapsed, exhausted, in the flames. Sparks flew overhead, scattering far and wide! He watched this memory play in slow motion to its end, slowly recalling his name and theirs, and the profound hatred branded onto this searing memory. These ungrateful traitors— The shelters had given them food, clothing, and technology they had never imagined in their lifetimes—affording them a life that once seemed impossible! Yet, after their bellies were full, they turned and bit the hand that fed them! He vowed to kill them all— To wipe out every last wastelander on this planet! At that moment, his bloodshot eyes caught sight of blue figures appearing, extinguishing the flaming rain with their presence. Human perception of pain has its limits. Continuous pain eventually numbs, preventing any response to external stimuli—a state not desired by the "god" pulling the strings. As Flynn gazed at the blue figures, a glimmer of hope shone on his face, like a traveler in the desert spotting an oasis—even if it was merely a mirage. These figures approached him, offering kind smiles and extending a helping hand as he had imagined. With all his might, Flynn finally reached for that hand. But at the moment of contact, a powerful gravitational force enveloped his body again, dragging him into boundless darkness. "From today onward, you are a disciple of the Enlightenment Society." A familiar voice flooded his mind, and the world pieced together by memory fragments collapsed instantly, beginning to iterate once more. “No—!!” Enough already! I will tell you everything! Make this damned thing stop! Terror filled Flynn's eyes as he emitted a second shout—or rather, a wail. But nobody paid him any mind. Nor did anyone hear him. Meanwhile, the second hand on a clock in a cell within Avent City’s 11th prison merely ticked once... ... 5 PM. Three hours had passed since the interrogation began. Fang Chang glanced at the time on his VM and knocked on the door to Room 101. On his third knock, the door swung inward, and a strong odor of urine assailed him. Wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell, Fang Chang leaned in to look inside and saw a puddle of yellow fluid beneath the person on the examination table. "Did you fry his brain?" “Of course not,” Night Ten chuckled, “He’s still alive, though mentally he’s a bit cooked.” The experiences that guy witnessed in the dreamscape, Night Ten also saw on the holographic screen. To be honest, he almost felt a bit sorry for the chap. Sympathy or not, sometimes methods were necessary. Compared to the Enlightenment Society, their tactics could almost be deemed merciful. The Enlightenment Society’s memory extractor could indeed fry a brain, whereas Jiang Xuezhou’s improvised program merely left one feeling like they'd been kicked by a mule. If someone’s psyche wasn't strong, it could drive them to madness, but for the mature-minded, they could still emerge from the nightmare. “A wicked technology indeed…” Fang Chang clicked his tongue, genuinely impressed. Behind him, the Viland guards, after seeing the room’s state, now viewed the young woman in the lab coat with awe and respect. No wonder she was from the Academy! Truly ruthless in her method! Not a mark on the body, and yet the person soiled themselves completely! That was something else! Unaware that she and the Academy had earned the respect of the Viland people for some unfathomable reason, Jiang Xuezhou beckoned Fang Chang into the room, handing him a thumb-sized hard drive once the door closed. “We’ve extracted a lead… Our research vessel, it’s likely no longer on Earth.” Fang Chang frowned. “Not on Earth? Then where?” Taking a deep breath, Jiang Xuezhou replied, “On the Orpheus… missile cruiser.” Night Ten and Fang Chang exchanged a bewildered, almost dumbstruck look, their confusion soon turning to excitement. “Whoa, is this opening a space map?!” Night Ten blurted out in a whisper. Fang Chang ignored him, clearing his throat with a serious expression as he questioned Jiang Xuezhou, “Let me confirm… This missile cruiser, it’s a starship?” “Yes,” Jiang Xuezhou nodded, speaking slowly, “In the era of the Human Federation, all military ships were starships. This starship was constructed at a spaceport at a Lagrange point, completed at the end of the Three-Year War, and soon after entering service, suffered an accident… The reasons remain unknown.” “Amazing!!” Night Ten clenched his fists in excitement, eager to rush off and share this news with his pals on the forum. However, his thrill was short-lived, quickly plummeting as Jiang Xuezhou continued. “Moreover… according to our records, this starship stored a hundred thousand neutron torpedoes.” After a pause, Jiang Xuezhou's voice quivered, “While the exact yield data isn’t available, there’s a saying…” "Near the end of the Three-Year War, the Human Federation Space Forces' bombardment mission on the surface nests was executed by this starship." To be continued...