Chapter 381
2-in-1-Chapter
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A flicker of hope passed through Abbas’s eyes.
"Are you saying... you’ll take us out with you? That Aurora PMC is going to evacuate us from the capital?"
The other soldiers, their faces dark and tired, also looked up slightly, a faint glimr in their expressions.
In the past year, the na Aurora Private Military Company had begun to spread across Bolivia.
Ordinarily, locals viewed foreign companies with deep suspicion. Everyone knew they ca not to help, but to drain Bolivia’s lifeblood.
And that wasn’t just Bolivia—most of Latin Arica had lived through the sa pattern.
But Aurora was different.
They didn’t ship Bolivia’s resources out of the country. Instead, they reinvested the bulk of what they took—right back into the local infrastructure.
The soldiers had all heard the stories. In the eastern territories under Aurora’s control, the company had not only built dical stations for civilians, but also laid down roads, schools, and even banks.
The schools didn’t just teach children to read and write. They taught practical skills—things kids could actually use to survive in the real world.
And it wasn’t just for kids. Adults could attend as well. Anyone who wanted to learn was welco.
As for the banks—those were established and operated directly by Aurora. Locals could deposit their money safely and withdraw it when needed.
Aurora’s banks even allowed people to exchange Bolivian currency for eurodollars—the global standard.
Sure, the exchange rate was low, but nobody cared. People were lining up to swap their stacks of bolivianos for even a handful of eurodollars.
Because everyone knew—bolivianos were worthless. Worse, they were unstable.
If the governnt collapsed and the rebels seized power, they could void the boliviano overnight and replace it with a new currency. In that mont, even a pile of cash would beco worthless paper.
eurodollars, on the other hand, were stable. They held value.
The common people hadn’t been unwilling to switch—they had been unable to.
Local banks refused to serve the poor when it ca to currency exchange. The President had issued order after order forbidding the use of foreign money for dostic trade.
So even knowing that their money was fragile, people had no choice but to keep using bolivianos.
But once Aurora’s banks offered euro exchange services, it took only a few months before most civilians in eastern Bolivia had swapped out nearly all their local currency.
Even soldiers and civilians from governnt-controlled areas had started sneaking over to the east, just to exchange their pay for eurodollars.
As for the matter of road construction, there was even less need to debate—it was unquestionably a benefit to the local population.
The current President had been in office for several years, yet had never undertaken a single infrastructure project. Roads remained broken, and public works had been left untouched and unmaintained. But this problem didn’t begin with him; none of his predecessors had done any better.
And yet, the mont Aurora PMC arrived, they began repairing the roads for the locals. The contrast was stark, and the people saw clearly who was truly serving them.
Because of such practical actions, Aurora PMC had earned a strong reputation throughout Bolivia.
So, when Leo ntioned that there was still another option, the soldiers couldn’t help but show a flicker of hope in their eyes.
They hoped Leo had brought with him a fleet of vehicles, enough to carry them and their families out of the city.
When soone is drowning, they instinctively grasp at anything that might serve as a lifeline. In such monts, people don’t have the capacity for careful thought or strategic reasoning—they act on instinct alone.
Though their eyes were full of hope, what they hadn’t considered was that the capital, La Paz, had a population in the hundreds of thousands.
During the Dunkirk evacuation, the British had mobilized every available vessel across the country, barely managing to evacuate 300,000 troops back to the British Isles—and even that had taken nine days.
Aurora PMC was not Britain. They didn’t have access to that many transport vehicles. Nor did they have nine days.
And the rebel forces who had already begun infiltrating the city certainly wouldn’t grant them that kind of ti.
Disappointnt was inevitable.
Facing those desperate, yearning gazes, Leo spoke without rcy, laying bare the cold, hard truth.
"We can’t take all of you, or your families. There are only two of us, and one vehicle. We couldn’t carry ten people even if we tried."
His words were like ice water dumped over their heads.
Everyone stood stunned.
A junior officer from La Paz, unable to process the shock, asked with uncertainty, "Then... what was the other option you ntioned?"
"Running won’t save you," Leo replied calmly. "Throughout history, panic and disorganized retreats have only led to greater casualties and disaster. I could open the gates and let you flee—but you wouldn’t get far."
"If you really want to survive, you have only one choice: stand and fight."
"You have rifles, you have ammunition—so why retreat? This is your city. You should be the ones driving the invaders out."
This ti it was Sergeant Abbas who shook his head.
He should have known.
Leo’s proposal was the very option they had dismissed at the start.
"Sir, I won’t fight for those corrupt bureaucrats anymore. My n and I—we’ve had enough of their abuse. We won’t throw our lives away for them."
"Besides, they’ve all run off already. There’s no point in staying behind."
Leo’s voice rang out, firm and unyielding: "You’re wrong. There is a point to staying. You’re not fighting for them—you’re fighting for yourselves, for your hos."
He climbed onto the roof of the armored SUV.
From that elevated position, he slowly swept his gaze across the assembled soldiers.
Though they wore military uniforms and carried rifles, they were no different from the civilians Leo had seen earlier on the road into the city.
Their faces bore no trace of determination or courage—only fear, panic, helplessness, and uncertainty about the future.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you?" Leo said. "I see a group of frightened cowards—not soldiers ready to defend their city."
Many of the soldiers bristled at the insult, their expressions hardening in protest.
Sergeant Abbas shook his head again. "Sir, trying to provoke us won’t work. We’re not going to fight just because our pride is wounded."
"This isn’t provocation. It’s the truth," Leo said. "And do you know what will happen if you run?"
"Everyone will try to flee the city, but the streets are narrow. You’ll be packed together, unable to move. And when the rebels catch up, they’ll slaughter you—every last one."
"At that point, so of you might try to fight back, but believe —whether in the age of swords or the age of guns, scattered resistance never amounts to anything."
"At best, you’ll stir up a little splash before getting mowed down—alongside your families."
Those who lived in powerful nations might struggle to imagine what it was like to grow up in regions plagued by constant war, to live every day unsure if they’d survive to see the next.
Even in Night City and the New United States—where gun violence was rampant—life was still better than in war-torn nations.
Yes, gacorporations ruled Night City and ignored the plight of the lower classes, but at the very least, they maintained enough order to keep people alive—barely.
Here, in contrast, the specter of war lood over every ordinary citizen, ready to destroy everything at a mont’s notice.
"Even if so of you are lucky enough to escape, without proper supplies, you’ll die on the road."
"In the end, those who actually make it to a neighboring country will probably be less than one percent."
"If the odds of survival are that low, why not stay? Why not fight back? If you can drive the invaders out of your city, everyone lives."
"And you’re not alone. On the way here, I already called for reinforcents. Air support will arrive in a few hours. Ground reinforcents need only a few days."
"You just need to hold out. For a few days—that’s all."
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