After Wende's "thorough" explanation, the group finally understood the situation with their dark-skinned "guide." So, this was the kind of notorious hacker the members of [Phantom Light] had spoken of?
"So the factions here in the Scrapyard are this convoluted... In that case, do you know where the entrance to the underground reservoir is?" Himeko asked, pinching her chin as she addressed the hacker, who, under Wende's "benevolent" gaze, was holding nothing back.
"O-Of course I know! That's the legendary hacker's old stomping grounds, a holy site for countless hackers! But the entrance has been occupied by the Cinder Gang. Our hacker camp has tried to negotiate with them many times to get inside, but those people are incredibly brutish, and we're no match for them in a fight..."
The hacker put on an extremely aggrieved expression, but in truth, not a single person present felt any sympathy for him. Jingliu, in fact, looked visibly annoyed, continuously brandishing her ice sword off to the side.
"Let's wait here for Dan Heng to get back first. Then we'll have this one take us to that [Survivor Base] for a look."
Wende pulled a seat out from a scrapped hovercar, placed it gently on the ground, and invited the others to sit and rest for a moment.
"Yay! But where did all these cars come from?"
March promptly sat down and rested her sore feet on Stelle's lap. She patted the soft, slightly gasoline-scented seat behind her and asked with a curious expression.
"Well..."
Wende silently shifted his gaze toward the dark hacker.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!"
The hacker, catching Wende's look, immediately threw his hands up and spilled everything he knew.
As it turned out, he was originally just an ordinary hacker with little to show for his skills. He wasn't very adept at Aether Editing, at most capable of teleporting and storing large objects. Because of this, he usually worked as a porter in the Neon Metropolis, taking on odd jobs for people.
But after the Stellaron erupted, many people died. The hovercars that were turned to scrap by the Stellaron's energy fluctuations became ownerless. So... he collected a great number of them along his way. He was eventually discovered and chased all the way into the Scrapyard, where he was finally taken in by the Survivor Base.
In the eyes of the ordinary survivors and Scavengers, all hackers were powerful figures. Even a good-for-nothing like him was able to snag a minor official post within the Survivor Base...
But that was his limit. Within the Survivor Base, there was also a dedicated hacker camp, and he was considered the absolute bottom of the barrel there...
"Wow, such a convenient ability and he's still the weakest? I wonder how powerful those legendary hackers are!" March exclaimed, covering her mouth as she spoke to Stelle, who was helping massage her calves.
"Maybe like Silver Wolf? Able to summon small detachments of the Legion with a wave of her hand, and even go toe-to-toe with two members of the Genius Society?" Stelle scratched her head, hazarding a guess.
"Huh? She can summon the Legion? How do you know that!" March demanded, puffing out her cheeks at Stelle.
"She told me in the game," Stelle answered with complete honesty.
"I knew it..."
Looking at Stelle with an exasperated expression, March suddenly felt a sense of normalcy returning. Dan Heng was acting like a video game addict now; it had to be Stelle's bad influence!
"...I get the feeling you're thinking something very offensive."
Dan Heng, who had just returned, looked at the daydreaming March and commented with a deadpan expression.
"Ah... Ahahaha, Dan Heng, you're back! Want to sit here and take a break?"
"There's no need..."
"You said it yourself!"
"..."
Wende nodded to Dan Heng, then stood up from his seat.
"Alright, let's go. It's still a ways to the Survivor Base. We'd best get there before nightfall."
When he mentioned the Scrapyard at night, Wende paused deliberately. Feeling the curious gazes of March and Stelle, he curled his lips in satisfaction.
"After all, the night in the Scrapyard... is when this place becomes truly cruel..."
Under the cloak of darkness, many things that should never happen are staged within the Scrapyard.
The cybernetics merchants here may be smiling businessmen earning a profit by day, but by night, they become cold and merciless killers. You never know from whose body your new cybernetics were just freshly harvested.
On Punklorde, while medical technology is highly advanced and a person can survive through many means, numerous depravities still exist.
The exorbitant cost of cybernetic maintenance is nothing compared to the speed and affordability of getting a new one! The only price is one more incomplete corpse in the garbage heap... Oh! And if the person's body was of exceptional quality, there might not even be a corpse left behind...
In the Scrapyard, you must never offend the merchants. You can never know how much power they have behind them...
The Survivor Base.
Today, the base was playing host to a guest of considerable weight. A merchant of high repute within the Scrapyard had arrived, providing the people of the Survivor Base with a large quantity of supplies and tools, on the condition that... you had money, or something else of value.
"Your Excellency, this is the inventory list. Please look it over."
An old man stood with a stooped back. His aged bionic vocal cords were badly worn, producing a sound as harsh as a broken ventilator.
"Oh, my dear Mayor. We have been friends for so many years. There is no need for such ceremony between us."
The masked merchant removed his gloves and patted the old Mayor's shoulder, smiling at him.
"I still recall when I first met you, you barely reached my waist. Eighty years have passed in a blink... Time, it truly is a merciless thing," the masked merchant said with deep feeling.
"Hahaha, Your Excellency jests. So many years have passed, yet you are as youthful as ever."
The old Mayor's eyes were filled with envy as he looked upon the merchant, who appeared exactly as he had eighty years prior.
"You know, for our kind, that is hardly a compliment. However..."
The masked merchant adjusted the top hat that sat above his mask and slowly turned. He gazed into the distance, at the [Nameless] who were gradually walking into the Survivor Base.
"It appears you have some rather important guests."
The masked merchant tipped the brim of his hat down slightly, hiding the eyeholes of his mask, and his voice dropped to a low register.