"Honey! Come out, quickly! You have to see this!"
"Dad! Dad!"
"What is it…?" The man rubbed his eyes and hurriedly walked out of the master bedroom, frowning as he said, "It's only eight-thirty. What are you two…"
He stopped mid-sentence.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, he saw the TV broadcasting footage of Conservative officials secretly discussing how to frame PPDC generals. From time to time, chilling words popped up:
"The Bishop is already very dissatisfied with our progress. Humanity must be exterminated within a year."
"Humans are really like cockroaches on Earth, so stubborn and hard to kill. And they're still thinking about building Jaegers!"
"That's why we need a more targeted approach since brute force isn't working."
Hearing this series of statements, the man, who was sitting on the sofa with his family, felt a deep sense of dread. He never imagined that the officials who constantly preached "peace and love" and "rejecting war" on TV could harbor such inhumane intentions.
As he thought further, he realized that the stagnation in Steel City's development, the fact that most residents were just barely above the poverty line, and the gradual fading of fear toward the Kaiju and war—all of these issues were closely tied to those officials with their ugly faces. The realization made him feel as if he was sitting on pins and needles, almost unable to accept the absurdity of this reality.
The TV then switched to images and videos showing the Federal officials and generals wantonly wasting food, and what broke the man's spirit was a string of silent text:
"Based on intelligence gathered as of today, the investigation has uncovered more than 40,000 individuals involved, and this is far from the final number."
The man could tolerate seeing the old-world cigarettes and fine wines—after all, those weren't essential to survival. But he couldn't bear to watch the officials and generals casually discarding gourmet food after just a few bites!
Since his daughter was born, his family had relied on protein blocks made from cockroaches and earthworms, priced between 1 to 5 credits each, and synthetic meat. If they wanted to taste vegetables, fruits, or canned meat products, they had to spend a fortune.
Yet, in the eyes of these reveling officials and generals, the food his family cherished was worthless?
The man's anger and resentment surged uncontrollably.
Fortunately, the Titan Gang didn't exploit the people like other factions. They seemed to focus on development and construction, even engaging in barter trade with residents, which had tripled the income of the Peach Tree Tower residents within two months, greatly improving their lives.
In comparison, the man thought it might be better for the Titan Gang to replace the Federal government—at least they could live more like "humans."
Suddenly, the TV screen shifted to the Parliament Hall, showing Samuel Young and Magnus standing in the center.
? ?
The man was momentarily dazed, as he hadn't seen the beginning of the broadcast. He was stunned by the coincidence that his idle thought had seemingly come true.
"Everyone!" Samuel Young, his face showing anger, lightly waved his left hand.
The TV screen began zooming out, revealing the entire hall.
Thousands of Federal representatives, officials, and generals were seated in tiered, fan-shaped seats. Over seventy percent of them had their hands and feet bound. The camera intentionally zoomed in on some officials' faces, allowing the family to clearly see the terror in their expressions.
The camera returned to focus on Samuel Young and Magnus, gradually zooming in until Samuel was centered while Magnus stood at the edge. Meanwhile, a small inset of the hall's wide view appeared in the bottom right corner of the screen.
"What a pathetic situation! What a betrayal!" Samuel's gaze seemed to pierce through the camera, momentarily resting on the man's family—or rather, on all the viewers watching TV.
Then he shifted his gaze to the assembled officials, his tone growing heavier: "At some point, traitors infiltrated the upper echelons of Steel City, attempting to sacrifice the last remnants of humanity to the alien masters they so desperately idolize.
And the high-ranking officials and generals before you, obsessed with power and pleasure, have completely disregarded the lives and interests of the people. They have trampled on the very purpose of Steel City's existence! What was supposed to be humanity's last sanctuary has become their personal 'paradise'?! This is nothing less than a betrayal of our ideals and principles!"
At this point, Samuel's previously passionate tone suddenly became restrained. His gaze locked onto the camera once more, directly addressing the man's family and all the viewers:
"I will not stand idly by. I will lead Steel City—no, the entire Earth—back on the right track, restoring humanity's rightful will and power! What we need is unity, combat, and labor—not the irrelevant corruption and power struggles!
I understand your concerns, and I know what you need most. So I make this solemn promise: I, along with Atlas, will take all necessary measures to ensure the fair distribution of resources in Steel City and do everything possible to eliminate hunger and scarcity. But you must understand that this is not just my responsibility; it is our shared responsibility!
We will build a strong and united human society, one so powerful that it can withstand any alien invasion while maintaining peace and prosperity!
I am Samuel Young, the founder of Atlas, and a man of my word. Therefore, I announce to you today that the Kaiju ravaging Earth and the alien race that created them, the Precursors, will no longer pose any threat to humanity!"
As his words ended, the TV screen shifted from the Parliament Hall to an aerial view, seemingly captured by a drone, showing the barren surface of Antar Star and the towering structures where the Precursors lived.
Then, missiles carrying tactical nuclear warheads streaked across the screen from the right, heading straight for the center of the structure. And then—
Ri~————whizz————!!
The explosion of the nuclear warhead, moderated by Atlas's PR department, appeared as a gentle white light on the screen, illuminating the shocked faces of the family.
As the aftermath of the nuclear blast faded, the Precursor's towering structures had been reduced to rubble.
Next, the screen showed the wormhole bridge located at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, also destroyed by a nuclear warhead. The abnormal rift gradually shrank until it returned to its original state.
Finally, the scene switched to the Luna transport craft in outer space, capturing the North American continent as twenty "suns" rose one after another, sweeping away all the filth and corruption.
"Mom, Dad… Do you think Mr. Samuel Young can really lead us to a better future?" the girl asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"I don't know," the man replied as he came back to his senses and shook his head. But as he glanced toward the kitchen, he added, "But I do know one thing: at least now, we can trade our work for tastier and more nutritious food."
___________________
Read Ahead
P@treon.com/Mutter