CHRONICLE GODSFALL

Outpost Blackflag

The setting sun was red like blood, staining the ground with its red glow. The sand was kicked all over the desert.

The patchwork vehicle was like a raging animal charging straight towards the outpost. Moments before colliding with the gate, the driver angrily turns the steering wheel, causing the car to stop violently and screech in a horizontal 'parking' position. The wheels dug two deep holes into the soft ground before the vehicle finally stabilized, though it trembled and clang as if it was about to explode with fire. A few pieces of unknown machinery completely broke off and fell to the ground.

“Ahahaha!” The fat man laughed happily, not at all worried about his vehicle as he turned off his cigarette on the dashboard. "We're back!"

After suffering through this unspeakable rocky journey, Cloudhawk inevitably began spewing storms. Unfortunately, there was no food at all in his stomach, so all he could vomit was bile. As for the surrounding mercenaries, they all started laughing and mocking their latest rookie.

"Ha ha ha!"

“This boy is a bastard. He's useless!”

"If you want to go back and be a scavenger, there's still time!"

Cloudhawk felt as if his intestines were falling apart. Who could stand to ride a car like that?

These mercenaries drove like crazy people who wanted to kill themselves. This is the second time Cloudhawk has driven a car. For him to be able to endure it as long as he was already impressive enough. Cloudhawk raised his head and was about to start arguing with the mercenaries, but his words died on his lips as he stared forwards stiffly.

This is a place that can actually be called a city. It was surrounded by layers of sturdy steel wire fences, with many tires, boulders, and shattered sandbags stacked together to form a 'wall' of defense, ' he said, with a series of wooden watchtowers facing from behind. The watchtower was roughly seven or eight meters tall, and each guard tower had many archer guards inside.

“Tartarus merc. Open!”

'The 'Gate' was actually just a heavily modified jumbo truck parked horizontally in front of an opening. After the guards verified their identities, the truck drove to one side, allowing them to enter. The outpost was filled with many tattered temporary houses clustered haphazardly, most of which had people inside. At the very center, there was a tall building that looked very eye-catching.

So this is the excavator base?

Cloudhawk's heart was filled with overwhelming desire and excitement. Throughout his life, as far as he could remember, he was a scavenger trying to survive the ruins as best he could. Every day, he eats insects and grass to stay alive while drinking heavily contaminated rainwater. Being an excavator.this is Cloudhawk's dream!

The front post is now his concern. Will he throw away his old life of eating in the wind and sleeping out in the open?

A few guards walked over to greet them. “You've all been gone for a few days. Must have committed murder this time! ”

The outpost guards wore bronze-colored leather armor, and they wore windshields and breathing masks that covered half of their faces. Their gazes were focused on Cloudhawk, and one of them said in a somewhat evil way, “Hey, a fresh face? It goes against reg!”

The registration? In this era, there is no such thing as rules!

These guys are nothing more than guard dogs. Mad Dog and Slyfox did not consider them at all, but there was no point in offending them intentionally. Moreover, they had actually committed murder in this mission. Slyfox generously offered the guards half a pack of cigarettes. “Homicide? We risk our necks every day. You guys have it much better. This kid is a new recruit. Just relax us, right?”

“Slyfox, no need to be too polite. How can we make it difficult for you? Quickly log in!”

Mad Dog pushed the somewhat confused Cloudhawk, and he immediately rushed in with the mercenaries.

In an era of chaos, building a homeland is not an easy task. Everyone has to start from scratch, and everything you need should be done by yourself. Blackflag Outpost is equipped and fully equipped, making it a fairly rare sight in the desert. It had inns, bars, warehouses, parking lots.

As a central excavator center, it also had all sorts of items for sale. Metal instruments, odd parts, leather and fabric.all kinds of shops and stalls can be found here. If you are lucky enough and skilled enough, you will be able to make a suit of armor from various parts and components of it, or maybe a gun. In fact, you might even be able to assemble the vehicle yourself.

This is the excavator base. A completely different world!

“Blackflag Outpost is not a charity operation. Everyone who lives here has to pay the price for it. Want to enjoy the resources this place has to offer? Then use your life to fight for it! ” The fat man summarizes it as follows: “This place is Heaven for the strong, but Hell for the weak.”

After speaking, he subconsciously grabbed a cigarette, only to recall that he had given half the pack away. He took out some curses towards the gatekeeper, then continued talking to Cloudhawk. "Remember. If you are not strong enough, then this place will not be much better than the wastelands. In fact, it could be worse!”

Right at this moment, Cloudhawk noticed a number of skinny, ragged-clothed women standing by the roadside. Ignoring the piercing cold, they put on all sorts of alluring poses as they tried to seduce the men passing by, their faces filled with pleading gazes.

"What are they doing?"

“In this day and age, men trade their lives while women trade their flesh. That's how the world works!”

Cloudhawk was a little confused.

“You will see people like them everywhere. Give me a piece of bread and you can play with their bodies as you please. Tents, back rooms, alleys, intersections .. they really are everywhere.” Slyfox is an experienced long-time hand in this, and he puts his knowledge at full display, not really caring whether Cloudhawk understands it or not. “The problem is, the pedestrians are not good. Most of them have some mutations, and if you mess it up enough, you'll get something out of it. The better ones are generally at the bar or are part of one's personal collection. It will be a little more expensive.”

Slyfox continued to give his wisdom, but Cloudhawk did not listen to a single thing that the fat man said. His attention was completely focused on a woman who was sitting on the ground. He was so thin that he seemed to have no flesh at all in his bones; he was really nothing more than skin and bones. A festering sarcoma covered half of his face, and most of his hair had fallen out, revealing a large amount of pus-filled pimples. On his arm, he held a baby wrapped in tattered cloth.

A foul stench and decay emanated from the fabrics. Obviously, the baby had died a few days ago.

The look in the woman's eyes moved something in Cloudhawk's heart. He had seen these gazes too often, an expression of despair, pain, and numbness, almost as if he had fallen into a hell of endless darkness, never seeing a glimmer of light again. His shattered body was still struggling on the verge of death, but he himself was already mentally dead.

Cloudhawk was dragged away by the mercenaries. As for the woman, she was just sitting there with her rotting baby on her arm, not moving at all. It was as if he himself was nothing more than a corpse waiting to rot. As for the passing travelers, some of them glanced at him. Most of them had long since gotten used to such a sight.

Cloudhawk was confused. Shouldn't all excavators be able to wear warm clothes, eat warm bread, and drink clean water? Why was this completely different from what he had imagined?!

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his excitement and anticipation. It was like a child excitedly opening a gift pack, only to find a pile of dirt in it.

The outpost has several crude oil store stalls. However, there was no money here; the system was purely operated on a barter basis, with food, bullets, and fuel being the most commonly used trading instruments.

Next to them was a small inn, not quite thirty square meters in size, which was filled with murky smoke. A young, lithe, and completely naked woman stood on stage, wriggling under the dim lighting. His back was so gallant, some of the men nearby wanted to step up and squeeze him hard.

“Slaaaves! Slaves for sale!”

In front was a ferocious-looking slave merchant standing on a pulpit, spit flying from his mouth as he praised his product.

“They are completely clean, guaranteed. No disease, no mutation. You can bring women and keep them in your private collection. They have tight breasts and a handsome donkey. I guarantee they are worth the money!

“The man is strong and muscular. They will be good workers. If you spend a little time and effort on them, they will also become powerful gladiators. They may even win you money in gladiator holes. Don't miss it!”

Three women and two men allowed others to touch and squeeze them at will. They had no expressions of despair or pain on their faces; instead, they smiled in a pandering style, hoping that they would find a good master who would treat them well.

The wind blew through a nearby alley, carrying the smell of a rotting corpse. Every day, one or two people would die inside these side alleys and hidden corners. There's nothing weird about this.

Smoke, wine, women.lust, violence, corruption.this is the main theme of this place, and the smell of decadence and moral decay meets every inch.

Men trade their lives. Women trade their meat.

Heaven for the strong. Hell for the weak.

Cloudhawk began to understand what Slyfox had told him.

In the center of the outpost was an upright stone inscription, as well as some rules that seemed to be written in blood. The stone inscription only explained what the rules were, not what the punishment was. but the burning and blackened pillar next to it calmly explained everything! Each pole had a badly burned corpse tied with steel chains. In the outpost, there is only one kind of penalty – execution by fire!

"See that?" Slyfox pointed as he spoke. “Place in front of it is the personal residence of the commander of the outpost. I warn you now – stay away from that place. They'll crush you as easily as a cockroach, and don't care!”

The tall Slyfox-designated building can be seen from the outpost gate, as prominent as a stork inside a flock of chickens. Electric lights are seen illuminating the rooms in the building. Electricity ... This is a very valuable and rare commodity. There are very few scavengers in the wastelands who are lucky enough to dig an Old Age power plant or who have the skills to make one. Only a very, very elite few can tap into this precious resource.

So this is the commander's residence?

Cloudhawk can't help but fantasize about what's inside. What kind of three-headed and six-handed freak could be so powerful as to control and lead an outpost like this? Being so powerful as to ensure that even ferocious people like Slyfox and Mad Dog had no choice but to comply, not daring to rebel?

“You came at the right time.” Slyfox stared at the words on the stone inscription, then sighed. “A year ago, Blackflag Outpost was ten times as chaotic as it is now. You will see rape and murder in the open, and both slave traders and 'meat merchants' hunt and kidnap people freely. Since the new commander arrived, things have gotten better. He personally wrote all the words on this stone inscription.”

“New commander? What happened to the old one?"

“What do you think?” Slyfox looked at Cloudhawk as if he was an idiot. “Killed, of course! There is no such thing as a permanent commander. Often, an old commander will be killed, and the killer will be the new commander. Eventually, he would be killed and replaced as well. People always follow the strong. If you think you are tough enough, you can go and challenge the commander as well!”

Slyfox and Mad Dog were indeed formidable, but they were still nothing more than mercenaries. They rely on outposts to provide them with the information and mission they need to earn commissions and feed themselves. They would never dare to disobey the commander or try to take that position for themselves. As for Cloudhawk, he did not even dare to imagine such a thing!

A raucous commotion could be heard coming from the front. More than ten men dressed as outpost guards and who wore breathing masks worked together to drag the enormous corpse forward.

Incredibly enough, they were actually dragged away by a strange beast that was roughly half a meter long. Its sticky skin emitted a mucus-like liquid that instantly soaked the ground beneath it, causing a series of corrosive hissing sounds that caused Cloudhawk's blood to cool.

Although the best ones were only half a meter thick, they were roughly ten meters long. Not too far away from the soldiers was an area where the ground seemed to have churned. There was also a hole in the ground that was about half a meter in diameter. The surrounding area was covered with a mucus-like liquid, and there were a number of corpses on the ground as well. The bodies had all been deeply corroded to the point where they looked as if they were made of melted wax.

“Oh, shit, giant earthworm again? Jesus, that's the second of the month!”

Cloudhawk had never seen such a terrifying creature before. “A-what is it?!”

Slyfox shook his head. “When you have many people gathered together at an outpost..if I am a mutabeasts, I will choose this place as my hunting ground as well. However, for some that often appear is nothing. The real thing you should be worried about is the wave of mutabeasts. That's what ended up destroying most of the outpost.”

“Hahs. Calm. Nothing to be afraid of.” One of the veteran mercenaries patted Cloudhawk on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, if you live long enough."

As the army of the outpost dragged the terrifying corpse through the streets, the people passing nearby parted ways without even glancing at them. Can they really get used to such things?

Cloudhawk suddenly felt like he was walking on a thorn. Every step he took made him feel very uncomfortable.