True Apocalypse Game

This was only the beginning.

Hearing this, most of the players nodded in agreement.

On the nuclear wasteland map, there were three main missions. They had already completed two of them: discovering the cause of the nuclear war and destroying the three artificial intelligence nuclear strike systems.

Now, only the final mission remained: to rebuild human civilization upon this wasteland.

Compared to the first two missions, the task of rebuilding human civilization was far more vague and complex.

’What would even count as successfully rebuilding human civilization and completing the mission?’

’Was there a specific benchmark?’

’Did it mean bringing civilization back to the Steam Age? The Electrical Age? Or the Information Age, just like before the war?’

The game’s developers hadn’t specified.

They would have to figure it all out for themselves.

Besides, building is not like destroying. Creating a complex social system and a complete industrial chain is infinitely harder than tearing everything down.

So, compared to the first two objectives, the final mission—rebuilding human civilization—seemed simple. It was just a few words, but it was actually the most complex and difficult task of all.

The first two missions had already taken them over ten days in the real world. This final task of rebuilding human civilization seemed to have no end in sight.

Some players couldn’t help but smile bitterly. They really couldn’t fathom what the developers were trying to achieve anymore.

’Make them experience the terror and hardship of the nuclear apocalypse? They’d done that.’

’Reveal the dangers of strong AI? They’d seen that too.’

’Even the so-called Whisperer, which seemed like something out of a madman’s ravings, was something they could grudgingly accept.’

’So what else could they possibly want from them?’

’In any case, this game mission should be well and truly over...’

After a few seconds of hesitation, another player spoke up:

"Legion Commander, I think this game should be over. My old bones can’t take much more of this. I’m choosing to quit..."

The moment he finished speaking, another player added:

"Exactly. This... developer’s methods are beyond what I can personally accept. If they really wanted to warn us about the dangers of an automated strike system, they could have just issued a direct warning. Creating this kind of deliberately obtuse game is just..."

Someone else nodded and said,

"The developer’s intentions are good, but their methods are just too hard to accept."

Hearing this, the Legion Commander and several brigade commanders exchanged glances, all of them frowning.

These players were all elites with extremely high status in the real world. Even though they were intelligent and emotionally savvy, their lofty positions inevitably led them to acquire some bad habits, like an inflated sense of self-importance.

For some of them, getting this far in the game had probably pushed them to their absolute limit.

The Legion Commander nodded and said,

"The Salvation Army respects everyone’s decision. For those of you who wish to quit, you may leave now. You’re welcome to come back at any time, of course... I just don’t know if the developer will allow you to return..."

Everyone fell silent.

They were all well aware of the developer’s power within the game. Their every move was undoubtedly being monitored. Once they showed any intention of quitting, they would probably be locked out of the game for good.

Still, someone nodded and said,

"I’ve made up my mind. Farewell, everyone. I’m leaving."

With that, he vanished on the spot. His character had clearly logged out.

Following him, more people began to log out one after another. The Legion Commander and the others watched quietly, noting that several hundred people had left. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

’It made sense,’ he thought. ’To have reached their status in the real world, most of them possessed incredible fortitude. It would have been strange if *more* people had left.’

Then, the Legion Commander announced in a clear voice:

"For those of you who have stayed, since you’re still here, we are now comrades-in-arms. Let’s see this final mission through to the end and find out what the developer truly wants from us."

"Haha, sounds good! The thing I want most right now is to find this developer and have a little chat with him, face-to-face."

"Agreed. Let’s get started!"

They were all people of action. They immediately held a brief meeting to discuss the first steps in rebuilding human civilization.

The consensus was unanimous: food.

Only with enough food and a stable supply could they gather a large enough population to form a stable, large-scale settlement. From there, they could begin to disseminate and revive other technologies.

Historically, the technological level of agrarian societies was often far more advanced than that of nomadic ones. A primary reason was that a stable food source allowed for the specialization of labor, creating dedicated roles for technological research and development.

There were still many native NPCs living near Cheyenne Mountain, and the surrounding environment, relatively speaking, wasn’t suffering from severe radiation.

Although the soil was a bit poor, it was still arable.

In the nuclear wasteland, basic agricultural techniques had long been lost, and there were few farming tools to be found. The Salvation Army’s task was to reintroduce these methods and, in doing so, establish the first large-scale settlement.

They immediately began to break ground for their first farm in a stretch of wilderness not far from Cheyenne Mountain.

They also managed to gather many of the native NPCs from the surrounding area.

Although their methods were closer to slash-and-burn agriculture, everyone felt a great sense of satisfaction watching the seedlings sprout and grow rapidly due to the game’s accelerated time.

The jubilant expressions on the faces of the game’s NPCs made them feel, for a moment, as if this wasn’t a game at all, but the real world.

Having committed, those who remained stopped worrying about the time it would take. Instead, with a sense of humility and contentment, they began the task of rebuilding human civilization.

Starting with agriculture.

Soon, a year had passed in the game. It was time for the harvest.

The land they had cleared had transformed into a seemingly endless field of corn.

Heavy ears of corn hung from the stalks. Peeled back, the husks revealed golden yellow kernels, releasing their unique, sweet fragrance.

The players had also repaired and crafted some mechanized farming equipment and were preparing to harvest the crop.

The nearby settlement had grown into a large community of tens of thousands, becoming a beacon of hope in the wasteland.

Most of the players had put aside their other work to help with the harvest. There was only one combine harvester, so most of the work still had to be done by hand.

The Legion Commander’s character was at the forefront, working in the cornfield. Beside him, players and NPCs alike worked with their heads down, their diligence a throwback to their younger years.

As they controlled their characters, a sense of deep satisfaction washed over the players.

Watching as one section of the field was completely harvested, the Legion Commander let out a long breath. He looked out at the vast stretches of corn yet to be gathered, feeling a renewed sense of vigor.

Just then, a hooded NPC beside him suddenly turned, pulled back his hood, and gave him a knowing smile.

"You’ve all done very well."

Then another NPC looked up and said,

"I didn’t choose the wrong people."

And then, all at once, every NPC turned their heads. Expressionless, they opened their mouths and spoke to the players beside them:

"Now, we can talk."