Chapter 18 This is the final level
Hearing Rast’s response, Hiltina suddenly took a silent step forward and pulled down Rast’s sleeve.
The black iron cross.
Not one, but dozens, countless iron-patterned crosses deeply branded on the back of Rast’s hand, covering the skin of his entire arm. The pitch-black color was far deeper than the Iron Cross Hiltina had seen before.
This was an obvious fact, yet one that Hiltina had subconsciously overlooked before—merely catching a glimpse could pollute an ordinary person, just a bit of leaking breath from the lead box could silently infect one…
How much pollution had Rast, who prevented her from coming into contact with the Evil God sculpture and single-handedly safeguarded and carried the pollutants, actually suffered?
The pollution suffered by the iron crosses in the outer districts might not even compare to what Rast endured… He didn’t have an Emblem Armor or Extraordinary Items like Hiltina, and the Night Blade by his side, nor was he at the same level of the Sequence hierarchy.
“You…” Hiltina instinctively took out a green crystal from her arms, just about to do something, but was stopped by Rast raising his hand.
Only then did Hiltina see Rast’s current appearance.
The expanded, twisted veins had crawled up Rast’s originally handsome face, grotesque like a pitch-black spider web, with thick and thin bl**d vessels writhing beneath the skin like black snakes.
But for some reason, his bloodshot eyes remained clear, as if they contained the serene stars submerged deep in a lake, identical to when the two first met.
“Don’t waste this seemingly precious one-time item; I don’t need it. Save it for yourself later.”
Rast’s voice was somewhat hoarse and rough; the Iron Cross pollution had already affected his throat and vocal cords, but his tone remained calm: “Actually, it’s nothing strange. The ability to suppress primal instincts and impulses is the greatest difference between humans and beasts.”
“Just as a spy can find methods to counteract truth serums through repeated training, the Iron Cross’s pollution can also be controlled—what’s needed is merely self-restraint, extreme restraint.”
“Don’t you feel any pain?” Hiltina gazed at the bloodshot corners of Rast’s eyes.
She knew very well what Rast was enduring at this moment; she had briefly experienced the taste of the Iron Cross Plague just earlier—
That feeling was somewhat akin to a drug addiction episode but was a hundredfold more potent than any human drug. Once one chose to indulge that sadistic desire, one could enjoy ecstasy; conversely, choosing to restrain one’s desires was like being gnawed by thousands of ants.
Ordinary people couldn’t endure even a second and would immediately descend into beasts of sadism.
If it weren’t for Hiltina’s protective item being activated in time to purify the pollution, she didn’t know how long she could hold on under that erosion—perhaps dozens of seconds, perhaps a few minutes…
But the journey across Deep Blue Harbor took several hours, during which Rast had shown no signs of distress.
“Not bad.” Rast smiled slightly: “If you had experienced the feeling of being slowly burned by molten iron in a steel mill many times, then the rest of the pain would naturally seem trivial.”
He stood up again, lifted the suitcase, and walked deeper into the port area: “Let’s go, we’re not far from clearing this level.”
Hiltina followed behind Rast, looking at the thin back in front of her that seemed undisturbed.
Everyone is born delicate and afraid of pain, but those who have suffered can endure more… Crying out in pain is essentially a way to seek help from others, but Rast had no allies in Deep Blue Harbor, and every living being could potentially become his enemy with the Iron Cross, rendering any plea for help meaningless.
So he had long since gotten used to enduring pain without expressing anything to the outside world.
In the past tens of thousands of cycles, Rast endured the heart-wrenching pain of the Iron Cross’s erosion, walking alone through the dark alleys of the port area again and again.
He should have given up long ago, yet he persisted because of a reason that Hiltina did not know.
…
Compared to the crowded residential areas, the number of Iron Crosses in the port area, filled with warehouses and steam boilers, had noticeably decreased.
But the port area was also a stronghold of the Royal Navy; nearly every Iron Cross was armed, and while the number decreased, the danger significantly increased.
Rast and Hiltina had to spend more time to avoid these Iron Crosses under the cover of the rain.
Until finally, their footsteps stopped deep in the port area.
This was a large steam factory, located in the core of the port area.
However, a considerable number of Iron Crosses were also lingering outside the factory; unlike their counterparts in the outer districts, these Iron Crosses in military uniforms acted strangely.
For example, they would take the initiative to form groups and venture out to capture nearby humans, imprisoning them—some were fed bl**d to transform into new Iron Crosses, while others were used for cruel amusement.
Hiltina stood on a dock hundreds of meters away from the factory, overlooking everything happening around the steam factory, her brows slightly furrowed: “The Iron Crosses here seem to have formed some kind of order.”
“One cannot generalize human physiques, and the same goes for Iron Crosses; the combat power of a former boxing champion is naturally worlds apart from that of an Iron Cross who was once starved to the bone.”
Rast didn’t look back, merely placed down his suitcase: “Most of the Iron Crosses in the port area were transformed from navy personnel, and there are also the most mutated ones. Because of soldiers’ obedience, this is also the place where the division of labor among Iron Crosses first appeared.”
“In just half a day, there are already mutated types appearing, even a rudimentary Iron Cross society has formed…”
Hiltina’s brows knitted even tighter: “Their development speed is too fast.”
“Of course, if it weren’t for that, the Iron Cross Plague wouldn’t have become the disaster that later swept the continent. If they were really like the mindless zombies in movies, within a few months, cold, decay, food shortages, and microorganisms would be enough to cause their self-extinction.”
“In a sense, Iron Crosses are the evolutionary form of humanity, if one disregards the control of the Evil God and their susceptibility to irrational domination by brutality.”
Rast opened the suitcase on the metal dock, the overhead framework shielding it from the rain, preventing the contents from getting soaked in the downpour.
Inside the suitcase, neatly arranged within the foam lining were firearm parts, a black diamond-shaped military dagger, and several bundles of timed explosives made with simple detonation devices.
He took out a folded blueprint from the suitcase, unfolded it, and handed it along with those timed explosives to Hiltina: “Look at this.”
“This is our final level.”
Hiltina cautiously took the bundle of explosives and began reviewing the blueprint that Rast had handed over.
It was an architectural design blueprint, depicting the factory that was right in front of them, showing the layout of the entire steam factory.
On the schematic of the factory’s interior, the giant steam boiler that served as the core was marked by Rast with red circles indicating several equally spaced locations, connected by simple lines, with numbers written in pencil beside them to indicate the order of placement.
Hiltina quickly grasped the information contained in this blueprint: “This is our map for setting the timed explosives?”
“Yes.” Rast nodded: “I have preset different detonation times for each bundle of explosives; when placing the bombs at different locations within the factory, you need to place them in two-minute intervals according to the order I marked, so they ultimately detonate at the same moment.”
“And this factory houses the largest steam boiler in all of Deep Blue Harbor. The multi-point timed detonation of the explosives will trigger a meltdown of the boiler, causing steam explosions that will affect the surrounding armory and the scattered gunpowder from the wrecked ships.”
“Tens of thousands of tons of chain explosions and superheated steam will k*ll every Iron Cross in the port area.”
“I’m not a demolition expert, and the library at Deep Blue Harbor doesn’t have any specialized books on explosive engineering; this placement route was optimized through trial and error of blowing myself up hundreds of times.”
“But you are wrong about one thing.” Rast paused slightly, pointing to the blueprint in Hiltina’s hands.
“That’s not our route map; it’s your own route map.”
(End of Chapter)
