Li Aozi didn’t ask much. He had done this task many tis before, and Valenkov would later beco one of the most familiar maps to players.
"Yesterday’s Yesterday Was Spring," one of the most classic tasks in the Layer Abyss, with its rich rewards, clear task flow, and morable storyline, made it an impressive task for players.
Unlike Grante, which was almost destroyed because of its own weakness, Valenkov’s storyline was very complicated, with no clear side of justice or evil.
If starting as a Valenkov Alien, this task would beco the mainline.
However, all six mainline endings were literally "bad endings."
No matter which ending, Valenkov would descend into an abyss of no return.
Li Aozi had already discussed cooperation with Nikita, the main character of the task. To show his sincerity, Li Aozi handed over a large sum of 500 Ammonium Gold to Nikita, allowing him to purchase the necessary supplies.
"This much?!"
Nikita’s four eyes all widened when he saw the Ammonium Gold transferred to the account.
"This is just the standard market rate. Most Free rcenaries from Valkyrie Fortress earn about this much on average per job."
Li Aozi was indifferent.
"Standard market rate?"
Hearing this, Nikita almost wanted to laugh. He complained bitterly in front of this foreigner:
"Valenkov’s official currency, Ruta, has devalued to 1:9,785,000 and is still falling."
He waved his terminal, feeling mixed emotions in his heart.
"I have to make other preparations. We’ll et tonight at the rlot Building."
The mont Li Aozi finished speaking, his figure disappeared.
Nikita stood there in a daze for a few minutes until he heard Velazquez’s employees patrolling downstairs. He hurriedly packed his things and quietly left.
All of this felt too unreal.
Ammonium Gold wasn’t a huge amount. In the battles he had participated in, he often harvested nearly 5,000 Ammonium Gold in one fight, enough to support a family.
But now, heh.
Wrapping his coat around himself, Nikita walked briskly through the street. Because the rcenary City-State had no atmosphere, the winter in Valenkov didn’t bring snow. The dry and cold wind carried away the moisture and heat from his body, giving a sense of anxious desiccation.
The gray streets were desolate and indifferent, with only a few passersby carrying clubs and weapons, returning from looting shops.
Velazquez had cut off weapon supplies, which was, in a sense, a good thing.
Nikita rembered a joke: Why do primitives use clubs to bash each other’s heads in?
The answer: Because they didn’t have guns.
With his hands in his pockets, Nikita lowered his head and slipped past the thugs waving chains and clubs. Although he knew the Ammonium Gold was stored in the cloud, he instinctively tightened his grip on his phone, his expression relaxed yet troubled, not giving the impression of soone carrying a large sum.
"Damn! What a bunch of poor bastards. I’m starving to death, can’t even find a piece of chocolate."
A Valenkov Alien with deer antlers and a cat face carried a steel bar, his squid-like eyes drooping, muttering incessantly.
"Say no more, let’s check out this shop." His companion rudely bumped into Nikita, causing him to stumble. Nikita instinctively turned his head to look back.
"What are you looking at?!! Get lost, you old fool!"
An Alien brandishing a chain cursed and threw an aluminum can at him.
"Scram! You old fools should just commit suicide. Living is just a waste of air."
Nikita ducked, avoiding the projectile. He watched as the thugs smashed open the shop’s door, hearing a woman’s scream and the male owner’s furious roar from inside.
"Still looking?"
The thug raised his hand, and his left arm instantly turned into an acid spray gun. He spat:
"Idiot. If it weren’t for Kaltz insisting on that damn relief policy, you’d have been dead long ago. Get lost!"
Crash!
The glass of the shop shattered. Several ravenous Aliens imdiately rushed in, and soon the sounds of bashing and screaming ca from inside.
Nikita said nothing, turned his head, and walked away quickly.
He turned left and right, taking a long ti. When he finally returned ho, the chest and stomach of his coat were noticeably bulging.
Unlocking the door, the dilapidated old house revealed its ceiling. The campfire had long been extinguished. He tinkered with it for a bit, picking up so wood planks and table legs, stuffing them in. The flas rekindled and grew stronger.
"Are you back?"
Nikita turned around, and a small, pale green figure imdiately jumped out of the dark corner. She leaned against the wall, slowly walking over.
"Rosa, you should be in bed."
"I’m cold." Rosa blinked her gray-white eyes. Her unfocused pupils reflected Nikita’s complicated expression. She straightforwardly said: "The blanket was stolen."
Unlike other Aliens who were tall and burly, Rosa’s posture showed an extrely unhealthy infantilism. She was as short as a child, without any mutated self-defense organs. Her pale green hair hung on her shoulders, and her tender face showed a maturity that contrasted sharply with her age.
Using her weak heat-sensing ability, she slowly sat beside Nikita, fumbling to find the teapot. She gently shook it, and hearing the water sloshing inside, Rosa imdiately smiled:
"There’s still water. I’ll make so hot water to warm you up."
"Rest, Rosa."
Nikita was not good with words. He raised his hand, pressing gently on Rosa’s shoulder, not daring to show too much concern for fear of breaking her frail and deford bones.
"I’m not that fragile." Rosa stubbornly insisted. Nikita gently brushed her hair, silent.
"I’m sorry, Rosa." Nikita couldn’t bear to look at Rosa’s face. He turned his head and said: "I inquired about it. Dr. Fox was probably right. In the Layer Abyss, only a Narrative-Level Civilization can cure this disease..."
"If the cost of curing my disease is for Dad to betray his beloved country, then to hell with the disease. I won’t cure it."
Rosa said:
"I’ve already lost two kids prematurely, one died in battle, and one starved to death. I have nothing to fear anymore."
Nikita dared not respond.
He watched his daughter grow from an infant to a beautiful young woman, wearing a wedding dress, getting married, and having children. She had a happy life. But now, he had to watch her revert to infancy, shrinking back step by step.
This hereditary disease called "Hydra Syndro" ca from their ancestors.
An ancestor, whom they had never t and didn’t know how many generations ago, sohow floated up to the Layer Abyss from the third level of Starry Abyss: Zhou Yuan.
Back then, people didn’t know that the curse of the Starry Abyss could be inherited, running through the entire family lineage, generation after generation, endlessly, waiting for the ti to erupt.
The curse of the Layer Abyss was mild, having been adapted to by normal people, thus called no curse.
The curse of the Border Abyss caused distortions in perception and philosophy, even twisting the body.
The curse of Zhou Yuan was more severe, disrupting the body’s sense of ti, leaving beings unaware of aging and growth.
Biological bodies were fragile; a bit of blood clot plaque in the blood vessel walls could be fatal, let alone the removal of the sense of ti, causing them to be unaware of hunger and aging. Wounds wouldn’t heal with ti, tabolism could either be too fast or halted, and might even reverse.
Any hormone and drug required the body’s circulation to function. Once the sense of ti was disrupted, even dication wouldn’t combine with the cells to take effect, or enter the circulatory system.
The curse of Zhou Yuan was a great burden even for the strong, let alone an ordinary Gamma Rank mortal.
Rosa was fortunate. Thanks to her ancestral bloodline, she didn’t endure too much pain. She only kept reverse aging, eating and drinking while her immune system and constitution weakened.
The magic that was once hired at a high price to protect her turned out to be harmful due to its magic energy radiation, which had to be removed by hiring a mage at great cost.
She had to suffer through all the illnesses from her childhood again, and the injuries had to heal once more.
The lenses implanted in her eyes had to be removed by a doctor, or the entire eyeball would burst from the pressure.
After barely enjoying more than a decade of vision, she returned to congenital blindness.
In truth, Nikita wasn’t afraid of his daughter’s illness. He feared he would no longer have the ability to accompany her as she regressed and grew smaller.
Death and disease weren’t frightening at all, not at all. Only poverty was truly terrifying.
"I couldn’t find Julian."
Nikita said:
"Your half-elf husband disappeared sowhere. That kid... I knew he was unreliable."
"Julian isn’t like that. You know how he is, Dad." Rosa argued, "Leader Kaltz just announced the fleet’s expedition. He went off to earn a living."
"What’s the use? If he goes to the battlefield, without logistical support, without military weapons, he’ll just be dust scattered among the stars. Even if he dies, the nation can’t pay a death benefit anymore."
Nikita said irritably:
"His best choice is to stay by your side. I have a bit of relief money. For God’s sake, just stay ho and live with the old man. Going out to fight will only drain our wallets more."
"Julian is half-elf; elves are smart. He’ll find a way."
"I hope so."
Nikita fell silent.
The fire burned quietly. Rosa poured water into a small pot. Nikita added biscuits, chocolate, and so unidentifiable at shreds, mixed and cooked them over the fire.
The father and daughter cooperated seamlessly. Though Rosa’s body beca childlike and returned to childhood blindness, she ca alive again when she grabbed the kitchen tools, exuding the essence of a good wife and mother.
"Dad, do you hate Kaltz?"
Suddenly, Rosa asked.
"Kaltz is a good person. He gives money to the elderly and the families of fallen soldiers."
"I an, do you hate him?"
"I hate Kaltz because he gives money to the elderly and the families of fallen soldiers."
What Nikita said didn’t sound contradictory at all.
"A good person doesn’t necessarily make a good leader. Even though Dad benefits from Kaltz’s policy, he still hates Kaltz—this world is so strange, isn’t it?"
"I don’t know."
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