This Game Is Too Realistic

Working 12 hours a day could earn him at least 12 silver coins, but that was the minimum wage! Since the establishment of the New Alliance, almost no one lived on the minimum wage.

Thanks to rapid economic growth, coupled with the New Alliance's unlimited investment in the various industries, encouraging domestic production and attracting foreign capital through debt, factories in the New Alliance's industrial zones were hiring.

Anyone who could read could easily find a job paying 500 to 600 silver coins a month, and those who couldn't read could enroll in night school, working part-time while learning cultural knowledge.

And for skilled technicians, salaries start in the four digits. It would only go up from there.

The only thing he couldn't understand was... If Wasteland Online always boasted realism, where did all the money come from?

He hadn't seen the administrator scamming anyone, only the New Alliance Bank scattering money everywhere. Moreover, the rewards for tasks were never stingy.

How exactly did their exaggerated quantitative easing keep inflation in check?

Unable to figure it out, Pangolin decided to stop thinking about the complex issue.

After all, he couldn't make sense of it. He should just do what a pangolin should do.

With his wages in hand, Pangolin didn't go back to his shack but headed to the nearby town.

There was a tag-along waiting for him to feed.

He swore... Once the task given to him by the administrator was completed, he would definitely chop this guy up personally!

Taking a deep breath, Pangolin put aside his negative emotions and pushed open the door of the inn.

As soon as he entered the lobby of the inn, without even making it to the stairs, he saw Cowley drunkenly sprawled on the bar counter, drooling over the table, with a half-finished beer next to him.

Noticing the shadow cast on the table, Cowley opened his half-lidded eyes and saw Pangolin standing beside him.

Grinning, he waved his fuzzy arm. "Ah... Pangolin, you're back,hic..."

"This beer really packs a punch... Let's have a drink together, oh, do you have any money on you? Pay for my drink, I'll pay you back when we get home."

Pangolin took another deep breath.

Not good.

His blood pressure was rising!

Suppressing the urge to kill, he looked at the innkeeper behind the bar and gritted his teeth.

"How much?"

"5... 5 Golden Lizard Coins."

Intimidated by that murderous gaze, the innkeeper stuttered, his hand already reaching for the gun hidden under the bar.

5 coins?!

Hearing that, Pangolin nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. His eyes turned bloodshot and he grabbed Cowley by the collar.

"Have you lost your mind?! 5 Golden Lizard Coins, do you know how much I earn in a day busting my ass?!"

"6 coins! I only earn 6 coins!"

"I work all day for those bloodsuckers without a bite, and you're here drinking all day?!"

"Do you even want to return to the Army? Are you even a man?"

Pangolin roared angrily, cursing non-stop, and was so hoarse he ended up cursing fluently in the Federation language.

The entire inn fell silent, staring at the scene... including the innkeeper behind the bar.

Army?

These two... Are they from the Army?

His shoulders heaved violently like waves crashing against the shore, Pangolin's eyes were as wide as copper bells.

If looks could kill, the man he was holding would have died countless times. He never showed mercy to the Army's men.

Damn!

Motherfucker, I can't take it anymore!

He felt aggrieved like a housewife who worked two jobs to support the family, whose husband was a useless drunkard who gambled and drank all day.

The Army is flagged to be killed on sight, right?

It is flagged, right?

You can kill flagged players, right?

Whether it's a safe zone or not doesn't matter anymore, he had already decided, if he killed the NPC, he would kill himself afterward. Fuck if it took him three days to respawn. It would be better than wasting three months there!

Since you're not treating me as a human, don't blame me for not treating you like one!

"What the hell are yo..."

Cowley, grabbed by the collar, paused, about to angrily reprimand the one grabbing him when he noticed that disappointed yet hopeful look and stopped himself.

A wave of shame rolled through his chest.

While Pangolin was in the coal mines, working hard to save enough to return to the Army, he was spending the hard-earned money on getting drunk, numbing himself with alcohol to escape failure, to escape reality.

As a noble member of the Army, his loyalty to the Army and to the Marshal had been surpassed by a barbarian from the wasteland...

The emotion of shame turned into regret, and Cowley painfully closed his eyes, sighing. "I'm sorry..."

"..."

Pangolin's chest heaved violently, his teeth gritted with hatred.

He was thinking about what kind of death to arrange for this guy when he unexpectedly heard an apology.

"... I know, my escapist demeanor is ugly, my cowardice and incompetence have failed your loyalty, I'm not a good leader."

Looking at the uncontrollably angry Pangolin, Cowley gulped in fear, his eyes filling with more guilt.

Suddenly, as if he had made a decision, he began to speak. "Pangolin."

"What?" Pangolin snapped.

Just hearing the name made him angry, angry enough to chop himself.

Cowley looked at him. "Kill me."

Pangolin was momentarily stunned, taken aback by what he said.

Seeing no response from him, Cowley continued calmly. "Take my head back to Sunset Province, to the survivors there... They should pay you something. I'm ashamed of my degeneracy and self-pity, I'm not worthy of your loyalty, this is the last compensation I can offer you, I hope it can make up for your disappointment."

Looking into those sincere eyes, Pangolin fell silent, his grip on Cowley's collar loosened, then tightened again.

This bastard...

... I walked for a week... No, two weeks, just for a centurion's head?

Who the hell cares about you?!

Do you really think the New Alliance is some random fool who need handouts?

Staring him down, he forced out a sentence through clenched teeth.

"... If there's even a little pride and self-respect left in you, slap yourself twice, then stand up right now! You lost, but you're still alive, there's still something you can do, even if you have to die, die on the way back!" Pangolin let go of him and shoved him back onto the bar seat.

Killing someone was easy, but a dead person was worth nothing.

He admitted he had been somewhat impulsive earlier, thinking of giving up in despair.

It's just a game.

Do I need to put up with this bullshit?

But after calming down, he finally set aside his anger, especially recalling that night in the forest, fighting courageously against the Army's pursuers with a few young girls, made him feel embarrassed.

Those who were newer to the game than him, weaker than him, could stay optimistic and fight bravely to the end...

What right did he have to talk about giving up?

He had done well all along, not only earning the trust of the Army's officers but Cowley even promised to introduce him to General Griffin. He was just a little short of success...

He wasn't at the end yet!

"... Looks like I'm not strong enough." Glancing at Cowley, who was lost in thought, Pangolin muttered to himself.

For different reasons, both seemed to have fallen into reflection and calmed down involuntarily.

But just then, Pangolin suddenly noticed that everyone in the inn was looking at him.

Noticing the same pair of watching eyes, Cowley's expression became somewhat awkward. "... Did you just mention the Army?"

At that point, denying it was useless; the surrounding people had clearly heard.

Pangolin nodded slightly. "Uh..."

Damn, I was careless.

There were about twenty people in the hall. They were all armed. Though slightly drunk, none looked like pushovers.

With his skills, he might be able to take out half before turning holey.

That was the optimistic scenario.

However, to his surprise, no one made a move.

Were they waiting for a chance?