This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 541.2: Its Too Late...

Boulder Town had tried to bind the New Alliance with debt. The New Alliance had grabbed the rope and wrapped it around their neck instead. Someone had to die in the duel, and sadly, it was them.

That man did have a merciful side, but people in Boulder Town conveniently forgot how the New Alliance’s settlements had come to be.

Every city was a living monument.

Of course, weren’t they one too?

From then on, their family would rely on him.

Wolfur clenched his fists.

Glenys collapsed in her good friend Bonnie’s arms, crying her eyes out, red and swollen, choking on her sobs. "Elisa, my sweet Elisa... where did you go? Come back to Mommy. You can do anything you want, I won’t ever scold you about the newspaper again."

Bonnie gently patted her back, comforting her softly, "I’ve already asked my brother to look for her. She’ll be alright."

Her brother, Russell, was a commander in the 2nd Battalion. He was outside, maintaining order. Upon hearing the news, he had dispatched a 100-man team to search for Elisa, vowing to bring her back at any cost.

Bonnie believed everything would be okay.

Not just Elisa, but Boulder Town too.

Kishur clenched his jaw with a conflicted gaze.

Finally, he made the bravest decision of his life, braver than when he had once fled the settlement with his tail tucked between his legs. "I’m going to find her!"

Wolfur heard this and grabbed the madman by the collar, yanking him forward and shouting in his face, "Are you insane?!"

Kishur stared back like a rabid dog. "You’re the insane one! She’s your sister!"

"So what if she is?!" Wolfur roared even louder, nose nearly touching Kishur’s, "Just because she’s my sister, we all have to stay here and die with her?!"

At the word, Glenys fainted. Bonnie caught her and glared at Wolfur, clearly displeased.

The boy really had no tact.

Looking at the furious yet terrified Kishur, Wolfur’s eyes suddenly narrowed. He released him and gave him a push on the shoulder. "Go. I won’t stop you."

Kishur stumbled, caught his footing, and stared at his brother, half shocked, half furious, and slightly afraid.

Wolfur stepped closer and looked him in the eye, then suddenly smiled. "Among those rioters... maybe a few still remember you."

Kishur swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing much," Wolfur replied indifferently. "But you didn’t forget, did you? That girl five years ago? That old man? That family? The fire? They’re dead, but their neighbors aren’t. And their neighbors’ neighbors. What do you think they’ll do to you?"

Kishur’s face turned ghostly pale. He couldn’t speak another word about finding Elisa. He didn’t even have the courage to look back.

That was a guilt he would never overcome.

He hadn’t forgotten them. He even wanted to make amends.

However... How would he compensate them after killing them all?

He had no answer.

In the end, he planned to build another outer city, so they could live better.

He would take it as charity.

Besides, he heard CR was something that could give everyone a good life. It didn’t come with chips or all that currency nonsense. It didn’t even need a central bank or bankers...

He didn’t quite understand the deep mechanics, but he wanted to bring it back for the people to use.

Unfortunately, it was probably too late.

When Kishur realized that sweet little Elisa had disappeared, along with the rag doll he had handed her, he finally felt a flicker of fear.

What would those who hated him, who hated them, do to Elisa?

He didn’t even dare to imagine it.

Seeing Kishur’s pale face and trembling legs, Wolfur’s gaze was filled with scorn as he grunted, "You really should’ve listened to Father more. Idiots like you never should’ve come back here. You and Elisa are both fools, though in different ways. Do you really want me to say it out loud?!"

"You’re a worthless dreamer who should’ve stayed in Ideal City, and she should’ve gone to the New Alliance to live out that miserable life she’s always wanted."

He grabbed the boy by the collar, face twisted in fury.

"Follow me if you don’t want to die."

······

The narrow alley was dark and cluttered, icicles hanging from eaves, with unshoveled snow covering the potholes so deep it almost reached the tops of boots.

Stumbling and staggering through the alley, Elisa’s eyes were full of helplessness, confusion, and fear. Her right hand that was red from the cold clutched her rag doll tightly, her lips parting as wisps of white breath escaped from them. "Mama... Big brother..."

"... Where are you?"

She hadn’t cried yet. That was her last shred of determination.

She wanted to scream, but didn’t dare raise her voice.

Some instinct told Elisa that their settlement was no longer the safe place it used to be, the place where even a lost kitten would be found by a kind-hearted mercenary.

Now, if someone found her... She might really die.

An hour earlier, the alarm in the inner city had blared. Her second brother finally returned and met up with the family, and they all fled toward the inner city in a hurry.

She should have stuck close to them, but the snow was too thick.

As they passed an alleyway, she slipped and fell face-first into the snow. Her hair clip dropped.

It was a gift from her father during the New Alliance’s festival.

Instinctively, she brushed away the snow and picked it up, but when she lifted her head again, everyone was gone.

She called out for her mother and brothers, but the noise around her was deafening. Distant gunfire and explosions filled the air. Her cries were like cotton tossed into a fire. There was no trace, no smoke, while the flames burned higher.

The towering buildings blocked her view of the inner city. Afraid to stop, she wandered blindly through the alleys, turning into dead ends again and again.

The once-familiar Boulder Town had suddenly become unrecognizable. The crisscrossing streets were a maze. Still, she didn’t blame the people who built them too complex, she blamed herself. Those alleys were near her home, and yet she had never ventured into them before.

But there was no time to dwell on that. Elisa walked forward, silently sobbing. She wasn’t even sure if that path led to the inner city, just like those angry people weren’t sure whether their actions were right or wrong. The survivors of Boulder Town had gone mad.

Once the gunfire started, everything changed. No one even cared about the burning buildings.

People no longer put out fires. Some even wished the flames would spread, burning everything to ash so they could start over from zero.

Suddenly, noise echoed from a nearby alley. Elisa froze in place and hid behind a pile of broken crates.

Barely half a minute later, a group of ragged men passed right in front of her, turning into the adjacent alley.

Elisa held her breath, not daring to make a sound.

Then, a surprised voice came from outside.

"Hey, there’s a woman from the inner city here!"

Elisa’s heart jumped to her throat, her eyes filled with terror and despair.

But she soon realized they weren’t talking about her, but about a woman who had collapsed in the nearby alley.

The woman sat in the snow, having apparently fallen like Elisa. Her handbag had spilled a few high-value chips and some cosmetics nearby.

As the men approached, fear crept onto her face, followed by desperation. She backed away while begging, "No! I-I’m not from the inner city! You’ve got the wrong person, I’m... I’m just a bank employee!"

A man with a scruffy beard chuckled coldly. His face was as chilling as the icy wind. "A bank, huh? That’s not exactly a good place to work."

Others chimed in.

"Bankers... I hate you people the most!"

"Didn’t you guys think you were invincible? Why so scared now? Ha!"

The woman shakily fell to her knees in the snow, begging.

"No... please... please let me go. Go after the real nobles."

"You say you’re not a noble from the inner city," said a scar-faced man as he glanced at the handbag on the ground. "But this bag is made of Deathclaw hide, isn’t it?"

He was a mercenary, and he knew exactly what Deathclaw leather looked like.

"A 1,000 point chip!" one man exclaimed behind her, crouching to pick up the plastic token. Holding it up like a treasure, he shouted in glee, "Guys, this is a 1,000 chip chip! This isn’t poor man’s money!"

Despair took over the woman’s face.

The scar-faced man looked down at her with contempt. "Anything else you want to explain?"

She couldn’t speak. She knew they had already made up their minds to humiliate her, to mock her, to take out their anger on her.

No matter what she said, they would slap the noble label on her. Even if she tried to take it off, they would push it right back on.