"So this is the so-called Survivor Camp? It looks alright... much better than the temporary mining area in Belobog."
March stood on her tiptoes, her gaze sweeping across the surroundings.
Here in the Scrapyard, these "survivors" had carved out a patch of land from the garbage heap, a place where one could actually see the ground. Using local materials, they had built numerous small huts of varying sizes but uniform style.
In short, "junk houses." The materials for these mismatched buildings were all sourced from the "relatively safe" metal scrap found in the Scrapyard. Perhaps there were even some people with architectural knowledge among the survivors; amidst the pile of "junk houses," there were some two- and three-story buildings constructed purely from trash. March even saw a three-story inn called "The Survivor" standing tall among a cluster of junk houses... she just wondered if the furniture inside... was also junk?
The people here couldn't be described as emaciated, but they certainly weren't whole. After all, in this wasteland, able-bodied people were either hackers, Pathstriders, or "meat" being raised by certain individuals...
In the Scrapyard, the number of cybernetics you had didn't mean everything, but having none was absolutely not an option.
Even the junkiest cybernetic arm could cause your opponent to die of tetanus!
Thus, here you could see people of all shapes and sizes, equipped with a wide variety of cybernetics, gathered in a massive crowd at the main square by the Survivor Base's entrance, as if welcoming someone.
However, judging by the wary expressions of the residents and the greedy glint in some of their eyes, it was clear the person they were welcoming was not them.
"Everyone, we've arrived. This is the Survivor Camp. I... I'll be going now!"
The moment the hacker stepped into the Survivor Camp, he let out a sigh of immense relief. He turned to the group, shot a fearful glance at Wende, and seeing him just standing there with a smile and not replying, he bolted like a frightened black rat, disappearing into the cluster of junk houses in an instant.
"Uh, is it really okay to just let him go like that?"
Stelle tugged on Wende's arm, an intriguing light flashing in her golden eyes as she watched the direction the man had fled.
"Don't be so aggressive. If it weren't for him, we'd still be clueless about the Scrapyard. This can be considered atonement for his arrogant and reckless habit of ramming people with cars."
Wende gently stroked Stelle's soft gray hair, smoothing a few strands at her temple as he smiled at her.
"Okay..."
Stelle unconsciously nuzzled against Wende's broad and warm palm and nodded obediently. Since Wende had spoken, she'd let the man who had already learned his lesson go... though she had wanted to interrogate him about the locations of nearby treasure chests...
"Look, all the residents are gathered over there. It looks so lively."
March pointed at the bustling square up ahead and turned to the others.
"Could our luck be that good? Did we arrive just in time for some kind of local festival?"
March stroked her chin, a thoughtful look on her face.
"I doubt it. If it were a festival, that guy would have definitely told us. From the looks of it, he wouldn't dare hide anything, at least not in front of Wende," Himeko said, shaking her head.
"It seems someone important has arrived."
Dan Heng, who had been quiet, was now gazing at the crowd, his eyes piercing through the layers of people to finally land on a person wearing a mask.
"Hmm... a person wearing a mask..."
Dan Heng's brow furrowed slightly, as if he had thought of something unpleasant.
"What? A masked person... being welcomed by so many people... It couldn't be that scrap merchant that guy mentioned, could it?"
Recalling the various stories the hacker had told them on the way, March's train of thought arrived at this conclusion with unusual clarity.
"It most likely is, but... wearing a mask..."
Himeko glanced at Dan Heng, whose expression had turned somewhat grave. In this universe, the mention of a mask inevitably brought to mind a certain Aeon with a wicked sense of humor... and His followers, known as the [Masked Fools].
Under normal circumstances, the appearance of a Masked Fool on Punklorde might be understandable. But in this special period, his presence was something that required careful consideration.
"Let's go. We'll go have a look."
Himeko tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear and led the group toward the crowd.
The people of the Survivor Base were all surprised to see the Trailblazing team. After all, here, people without obvious signs of cybernetics, who were clean, and whose clothes were clearly not rags... and most importantly, whose entire demeanor screamed that they were not people who belonged in the Scrapyard, were a rare sight!
Some who were engaged in illicit business on the side had their eyes light up upon seeing the group of handsome men and beautiful women. But their little schemes were quickly extinguished by the sight of the person-sized lance in Stelle's hand and the sharp glint of Cloud-Piercer in Dan Heng's.
However, it was clear that there were still plenty of people whose brains had gone haywire from too many cybernetic implants.
Before the group could even get close to the merchant who was suspected to be a Masked Fool, a gang of unfriendly-looking individuals, equipped with weaponized cybernetics or holding weapons, surrounded them.
"Yo, yo, yo? What's this? How come we're seeing fancy big shots from the city in our little dump? Did the [Big Bang] blow up your homes? Got nowhere else to go, so you've come to fight us for territory?"
The leader, who looked like a punk, held a metal pipe. His exposed metal arm was covered in oil stains, and a clump of yellowed weeds was stuck to his exposed metal scalp, as if attempting to replicate a hairstyle called a "mohawk."
"Sigh... we run into clueless people like this everywhere we go, don't we?"
March sighed softly as she watched more and more people close in around them. She then summoned her longbow, ready for a fight.
"You get used to it. I just wonder what their weaknesses are," said Stelle, shouldering her lance as she thoughtfully stared at the man's head.
"Gentlemen, I believe there may be a misunderstanding between you. On my account, please refrain from this, won't you?"
A low voice suddenly came from behind the punk leader.
"Give you face? Who the f—"
Hearing this, the punk's face instantly soured. He spun around arrogantly, ready to unleash a torrent of curses at the speaker, only to find himself staring at a bizarre mask. Behind the mask was what seemed to be a pitch-black abyss, devoid of a single speck of light...
"Y-Your... Your Excellency... I... I..."
The punk, who had been so arrogant and domineering just a moment ago, instantly deflated. He waved his hands frantically at the masked merchant, and the weapon in his hand was dropped to the side the moment he saw him. Even when it landed on one of his underling's feet, the underling didn't dare cry out in pain. He could only stare in terror at the soul-sucking darkness behind the mask...
"We'll leave right now! Your Excellency is magnanimous! We really didn't know you knew these people!" the punk leader shouted in a panic, then fled as if his life depended on it.
Seeing this, his underlings also dropped their weapons and scrambled to push their way through the onlookers, running for their lives.
Gazing at the fleeing men, the masked merchant shook his head slightly. He then turned his attention to the [Nameless] and offered Himeko, who was at the front, a standard gentleman's bow.
"Lady Himeko, I have long heard of your name. For you and your esteemed companions to receive such discourteous treatment upon arriving in my domain, the fault is truly mine..."
The mask was smiling, and yet not smiling, as it looked at Himeko.