077. Brave Heart
Li Aozi didn't ask much. He had done this mission many times. Vanlenkov would become one of the most familiar maps for players in the future.
"Yesterday's Yesterday Was Spring," as one of the most classic missions in Layer Abyss, has rich rewards, a clear mission flow, and an evocative storyline, making it a memorable quest for players.
Unlike Granth's storyline, where the nation nearly perished due to weakness, Vanlenkov's story is complex, with no clear good or evil side.
If players start as a Vanlenkov mutant, this mission becomes their main quest.
Yet all six main endings are literal "bad endings."
Regardless of the outcome, Vanlenkov will descend into an irretrievable abyss.
After agreeing to cooperate with Nikita, the mission's main character, to show his sincerity, Li Aozi handed him a large sum of 500 ammonium coins to purchase necessary supplies.
"So much?!"
Seeing the ammonium coins transferred into his account, all four of Nikita's eyes widened.
"This is just the standard market rate. Most free mercenaries at the Valkyrie Fortress earn about this per mission."
Li Aozi dismissed it casually.
"Standard market rate?"
Nikita almost laughed out loud at this, expressing frustration in front of this foreigner:
"Vanlenkov's official currency, the ruta, has depreciated to 1:97.85 million and continues to fall."
He waved his terminal, a mixture of emotions welling up inside him.
"I need to prepare some other things. Let's meet tonight at Merdelo Tower."
The moment Li Aozi finished speaking, he disappeared.
Nikita stood there in shock for a few minutes until he heard Viral.Z employees patrolling downstairs. Quickly, he gathered his things and left quietly.
It all felt surreal.
Five hundred ammonium coins wasn't a huge amount. In past battles, he could earn nearly five thousand ammonium coins per mission, enough to support his family.
And now, well...
Wrapping his coat around himself, Nikita hurried down the street. Since the mercenary city-states lacked an atmosphere, Vanlenkov's winters saw no snow. Dry, cold winds sapped both moisture and warmth, creating an anxious, parched discomfort.
The gray streets were bleak and indifferent, with only a few passersby, armed with sticks and rods, returning from looting stores.
Viral.Z cutting off weapons supply was a mixed blessing.
Nikita recalled a joke: Why did primitive people bash others' heads with clubs?
Answer: Because they didn't have guns.
With hands in his pockets, Nikita walked past gangs wielding chains and clubs. Though he knew the ammonium coins were safely in the cloud, he instinctively gripped his phone, his expression a mix of calm and worry, making him seem like just another poor soul.
"Damn! A bunch of broke losers. I'm starving, and I can't even find a chocolate bar."
A Vanlenkov mutant with antlers and a cat's face, carrying a steel bar and squid-like eyes, grumbled loudly.
"Quiet down and check this place," his companion said, rudely bumping into Nikita, causing him to stumble and instinctively glance back.
"What the hell are you looking at, old man?! Get lost!"
A mutant holding a chain cursed, tossing an aluminum can at him.
"Get lost! You old freaks should just go die. Living only wastes air."
Nikita lowered his head, avoiding the thrown object, watching as the gang smashed open a shop door, the woman's scream and the male owner's shouts echoing inside.
"Still staring?"
The gang member raised his arm, transforming it into an acid sprayer, spitting:
"Dumbass! If it weren't for Kalmets and his stupid welfare policy, you'd be dead by now. Get out of here!"
Smash!
The store window shattered, and a few eager mutants rushed inside, the sounds of beating and screaming following.
Nikita said nothing, turning and walking away quickly.
He zigzagged his way through the streets, taking his time. By the time he returned home, the chest of his coat was noticeably bulkier.
Unlocking the door, his dilapidated home exposed its ceiling, the campfire long extinguished. He set about reviving it, gathering scraps of wood and chair legs to feed the flames, watching them grow brighter.
"You're back?"
Nikita turned. A faint green figure sprang from a dark corner, clutching the wall as she slowly approached.
"Rosa, you should be in bed."
"I'm cold." Rosa blinked her pale gray eyes, her unfocused pupils reflecting Nikita's complicated expression. She said bluntly, "The blanket got stolen."
Unlike other towering, muscular mutants, Rosa's form was frail, small as a child, lacking any mutated defense mechanisms. Her pale green hair hung over her shoulders, her youthful face bearing a maturity far beyond her years.
Using her weak thermal senses, she slowly sat beside Nikita, feeling around until she found the teapot. She shook it gently, smiling as she heard the slosh of water inside:
"There's still water. I'll boil some so you can warm up."
"Rest, Rosa."
Nikita, a man of few words, gently placed his hand on her shoulder, careful not to press too hard, fearing he might crush her fragile, malformed bones.
"I'm not that weak." Rosa insisted, and Nikita gently brushed her hair in silence.
"I'm sorry, Rosa." Nikita couldn't meet her gaze, turning his head away. "I looked into it. Dr. Fox is probably right; only a narrative-level civilization in the Abyss can cure this disease…"
"If curing my illness means making you betray your beloved homeland, then screw the cure. I don't want it."
Rosa said:
"I've already lost two children, one to war, one to hunger. I have nothing left to fear."
Nikita couldn't respond.
He had watched his daughter, Sola Rosa Nikita, grow from a baby into a vibrant young woman, wearing a wedding dress, marrying, and starting a family, only to now watch her age backward, reverting to infancy.
This hereditary disease, known as "Hydra Syndrome," traced back to their ancestors.
A distant ancestor from the third layer of the Abyss, Zhou Abyss, long ago came to Layer Abyss.
Back then, people didn't realize that the Abyss's curses were hereditary, passed down family lines, generation after generation, bound to erupt someday.
The curse of Layer Abyss was mild, already adapted to by the general populace, hence it was called curse-free.
The curse of Realm Abyss distorted perceptions and ideals, even warping one's body.
Zhou Abyss's curse was worse, disrupting bodily time concepts, causing growth and aging to become chaotic.
The human body is fragile; a few plaques in blood vessels can end a life. When time's concept is removed, there's no sense of hunger or aging, wounds don't heal over time, metabolism either accelerates uncontrollably or halts, even reversing.
Any medication requires bodily circulation to take effect, but with time's concept disrupted, even ingested drugs don't interact with cells or enter the circulatory system.
The Zhou Abyss curse is hard to bear, even for the strong, let alone an ordinary Gamma-tiered mortal.
Rosa was fortunate; thanks to her bloodline, she didn't suffer much pain, only uncontrollable reverse aging, her appetite intact, but her immunity and constitution weakened.
Protective magic purchased at high cost only ended up threatening her life due to magical radiation, necessitating further mage intervention to remove it.
Diseases she'd had as a child reoccurred; old injuries reopened, needing to heal all over again.
Lenses implanted in her eyes had to be removed to prevent her eyeballs from bursting under pressure.
Having finally enjoyed a decade of post-natal sight, she was plunged back into congenital darkness.
In truth, Nikita didn't fear her illness; he feared his inability to stay with her as she gradually regressed.
Death and sickness were never frightening—not in the least. Only poverty was truly terrifying.
"I couldn't find Julian."
Nikita said:
"Your half-elf husband is nowhere to be found… I knew he was unreliable."
"Julian isn't like that. You know him, Dad." Rosa countered, "The moment Commander Kalmets announced the fleet's deployment, he went off to earn a living."
"What's the point? Out there with no logistics, no supplies, he'll be nothing but dust scattered in space. Even if he dies, the country can't pay death benefits anymore."
Nikita grumbled:
"The best choice he could've made was staying with you. I still have some welfare left. Just stay home and let the old man take care of you. Going out to struggle will only drain more funds."
"But Julian's got elven blood—he's clever. He'll figure something out."
"I hope so."
Nikita fell silent.
The flames crackled as Rosa poured water into a small pot, and Nikita added crackers, chocolate, and some unknown shredded meat, mixing them to simmer over the fire.
They worked in sync, father and daughter. Although Rosa's body had regressed, even her blindness returned, her spirit flared when she took up kitchen tools, exuding a maternal warmth.
"Dad, do you hate Kalmets?"
Rosa asked suddenly.
"Kalmets is a good man. He gives money to the elderly and families of fallen soldiers."
"I mean, do you hate him?"
"I hate Kalmets because he gives money to the elderly and families of the fallen."
Nikita's words sounded contradictory but made perfect sense.
"A good person isn't necessarily a good leader. Even though you benefit from Kalmets's policies, you hate him—this world is strange, don't you think?"
"I don't know."