This Game Is Too Realistic

Achoo!

Standing at the entrance of the tent, General McClennan sneezed. Unwittingly, he failed to bite down in time and spat the cigarette in his mouth into the sand.

Rubbing his sunburned nose, he glanced at the cigarette stuck in the ground and muttered angrily, "Damn it."

Although it was a perfect plan, the thought of his title as a noble 'Conqueror of the Skies', a two star general, reduced to overseeing construction in the desert made him feel indignant.

And for some reason, he had been feeling a strange chill running down his spine since a moment ago.

He had felt the same way two or three months earlier. Not long after, his beloved Heart of Steel's propeller exploded after a hydrogen balloon that had drifted from nowhere was caught up in it.

To this day, he couldn't confirm who had released that balloon...

"Increase our patrols!" McClennan turned to the newly promoted commander and ordered grimly, "Expand the search area from 3 kilometers to 5 kilometers. Arrest anyone who approaches, and shoot them if they resist!"

The officer stood at attention and saluted. "Yes, sir!"

Watching the officer hurry off with the orders, General McClennan stomped out the cigarette with his boot, grinding it into the dirt. He then walked hands behind his back towards the north side of the camp.

The runway for the airfield was under construction.

Without bulldozers, they had to dig with shovels, using wheelbarrows and trucks to move the earth.

The land was severely desertified, and to prevent the ground from collapsing during landings, they had to pack the earth the best they could.

Over 50 soldiers patrolled the edges of the runway, overseeing the members of the reserve army at work.

More than 1,000 members of the reserve army were bare-chested under the scorching sun as they dug the lands.

Looking at their bare arms and shoulders, McClennan cleared his throat and shouted louder, "The August sun is like a red-hot furnace. I know you're dizzy from the heat, limbs heavy as if filled with lead, but it's better to bake under the sun here than to be charred by white phosphorus on the front lines, burned by gasoline till nothing is left."

"That's what your allies endured. Your enemies will torture you in the most brutal ways, so you must fight, you must advance, it's the only way you can survive. Be thankful we've shown you a clear path! You don't have to be slaves to the kings, nor puppets of the Enterprise. The hardships you endure today will be repaid a hundredfold to our enemies tomorrow."

"They will repent in flames! They will turn to ashes under millions of degrees, and be crushed to dust by our wrath!"

"Put in more effort!"

"Move!"

Watching the people dig more energetically, McClennan nodded in satisfaction and turned to walk back to the barracks.

If only he could have a bucket of ice cream... It would be even better if Teresa could feed it to him... No, she had already been tainted and captured by barbarians. It would be better to wait until after the war and visit the old king's harem instead.

His interest in women was actually moderate, as such things were too easy for him to obtain.

It was the ice cream, a rare commodity from the highland pastures along the Solat River, a luxury reserved for nobility even thousands of kilometers away that he was tempted by.

With that unlucky Finod around, those barbaric fools should know its worth.

He hoped those bumpkins hadn't eaten it all...

...

The sun had already set on the horizon.

Under the shadow of a wooden barrel, a black-and-white cat yawned lazily, casually licking its paw.

Just then, a dried fish swung in front of it.

Smelling the salty aroma, the cat squinted its amber eyes and walked elegantly towards it.

Politely meowing at the dried fish and seeing that its 'servant' wasn't taking it away, the cat unceremoniously began to eat.

Clearly, it was used to being fed... Or perhaps worshipped.

It seemed that old man Buma was right. People there really liked cats, so much so that the cats there lived leisurely lives, completely unafraid of people.

Meow...

Gently rubbing the warm back of its head, enjoying the comfortable purring sounds, Sesame Paste, squatting on the ground, smiled with eyes curved like crescents. Her cat ears swayed lazily as a look of content could be seen on her face.

The burly white bear squatted beside her, curiously looking at the little creature on the ground. "Why does it look like all the cats in the wasteland ran all the way here?"

"Yeah, it's strange. I haven't seen cats in other places... I've seen dogs though." Sesame Paste recalled carefully.

Seeing the cat being well-fed and attended to, Roshan showed a look of envy.

"Damn, I want to pet it too..."

"You can, but you have to be careful. Your paws are too big, don't hurt it." Sesame Paste moved aside to give Roshan some space.

"Hehe, don't worry, I'm very careful when I pet cats!"

Excitedly rubbing her paws, Roshan cautiously extended her paw.

However, before her paw could touch the cat, the cat got scared, fluffed up its fur, and hissed.

Roshan looked bewildered and quickly withdrew her paw.

She was just about to explain she meant no harm, but the cat had no intention of listening. It turned around and scurried into the shadows of the alley with the dried fish.

Watching the cat disappear into the alley, Roshan looked extremely dejected. "Umm... Am I too scary looking?"

Sesame Paste didn't know how to console her but seeing her about to cry, she couldn't just leave her be, so she awkwardly patted her hands and stood up. She then patted Roshan's broad, furry shoulder. "How can that be? Our Roro is so cute... maybe it just never saw a talking bear."

People there were superstitious, yet surprisingly tolerant of the unknown.

Even seeing a talking bear, their only reaction was to wonder how they managed to raise a talking bear. They wouldn't scream and shout and attack the 'monster'.

It was probably not just because the wasteland is full of strange things, but also because the locals were often involved in trade and were already accustomed to bizarre tales.

For instance, in Cactus Motel next door...

The receptionist was an android of an older model, one so old that its skin had faded.

It's said that during the Prosperity Era, it served as a receptionist in a holiday resort 20 kilometers away, later sent to a scrapyard when it reached the end of its service life.

It wasn't scrapped before the end of the world, waiting almost two centuries on an assembly line in a deserted factory until a few decades ago, when the owner of the motel picked it up and it resumed its old profession.

Its actual working time had far exceeded its designed lifespan, leading it to say strange things, occasionally offending guests. It would often space out, lost in thought for long periods.

Whenever that happened, the motel's owner would emerge to register the guests' information himself.

"... I remember when I first saw it, I was 7, now I'm nearly 47. time really flies."

"Indeed." Standing at the counter waiting, Sisi nodded absentmindedly.

47 years.

That was considered a long life in the wasteland.

She vaguely remembered hearing someone say, according to the game settings, the average lifespan of NPCs was only 35 years. Most people would run into danger in their twenties.

Flipping through a worn notebook, the owner rubbed his finger on it, suddenly looking embarrassed. He looked at them apologetically, "Sorry, guest, we've been quite booked recently. We only have one double room left... Do you mind sharing a room with a big bed?"

Before Sisi could answer, Tail ran over and yelled enthusiastically, "Oh! No problem! Tail will sleep with Sisi!"

Sisi coughed lightly. "Then... A normal room with two separate beds and a room with a large bed please."

After speaking, she placed a few Camel Coins of denomination 10 on the table, having just exchanged some spoils from marauders at the market for some change. She had 600 or 700 Camel Coins on her, enough for daily expenses.

Staying in Cactus Motel was quite affordable. A single room cost 9 Camel Coins, even including a large slice of rye bread for breakfast.

It was said if one wasn't picky about accommodations, there were even rooms for 2 Camel Coins a day, like the sort of utility rooms servants slept in.

As for renting a garage... It was a bit more expensive. However, it only costs 15 Camel Coins a day, or 300 for a monthly rate.

That was what made Sisi feel like she'd been scammed.

A damn map and a small book about local customs and culture sold for the price of nine days' rent!

No wonder the owner didn't even count before scooping the money pouch.

80 Camel Coins had at least netted him a profit of 40 coins!

She was too hasty!

The keys to the double room were given to Sesame Paste and Roshan, and Sisi took Tail to the other.

Passing the hallway, she saw a man with a beard and a woman with a worried face standing by the window on the second floor.

The man wore a faded linen shirt, his demeanor suggesting he had been a soldier, or at least a caravan guard, likely a captain.

The woman in front of him wore a beige dress. Her brown, slightly curly hair framed a pretty face, and her slightly protruding belly suggested she had just gotten pregnant.

"There's always a way... I heard they're hiring sailors in Silvermoon City, I might try my luck there."

"But... What about me and the baby?" The woman's eyes were filled with sorrow.

The man remained silent, clearly out of options.