Long-term salvation

"Professor Atwood, you didn't need to speak so loudly. You scared the lady next to you... Hmm? 6O? What a strange name, but thank you for the sherry." (A detailed introduction to the professor at the University of Michigan can be found in Chapter 219.)

"Professor Warren, you don't understand. If we were to perform the ritual of the otherworld here..."

"Then you will definitely be used as a ritual sacrifice by Mr. Rhodes."

"Oh, that's fine."

"You should make some sacrifice," a professor said maliciously, "so that we can get more firsthand information, or let Professor Allen Halsey's favorite student Herbert West try to resurrect you."

"Can you guarantee that my memory and consciousness will exist?"

"It should be possible...you can go and ask."

Listening to the conversation of the professors next to her, the mass-produced Nikki 6, who couldn't quite understand what was going on, blinked and then walked towards the kitchen with an empty plate in her hand. She was wearing a white British maid's uniform, with a long and wide skirt that covered her slightly thin figure. The other mass-produced Nikkis also came to Hill Manor. They were both participants in the banquet and servants helping out.

Whenever they thought of this, the mass-produced Nikkis, including 6O, felt a mixture of sadness and honor. However, after arriving at Hill Manor, the biggest shock they received was:

"A lot of humans have come!"

"I know, 6O. You'll see more of them later. Now help me time it."

Marian, who was busy in the kitchen, said without looking up. She was cooking with Asuai Muji, Noah and several other mass-produced Nikkis - it's not that there were no men to help, but they obviously misjudged the difference between "food" and "targeted treatment drugs for hunger" - the men who didn't know how to eat had to go somewhere else or chop firewood outside to fill the side room where the firewood was stored.

Hearing Marianne's words, 6O walked quickly to the gas stove. She saw Provençal stew surging in the cast iron pot. The purple of eggplant, the green of zucchini and the red of tomato blended together in the olive oil, releasing the aroma of the food without reservation.

"Can I taste it first?" 6O looked at Marianne eagerly. "I'll use a new spoon to scoop out some sauce."

“Just don’t disrupt the arrangement of the vegetables inside.”

As Marian spoke, she also stuffed a small piece of cheese into her mouth - Nikki faithfully implemented the saying "If the cook doesn't steal, the crops won't be harvested" - every time at this time, she would always be glad that she was a person who could never gain weight... The commander liked the current shape of his belly very much, and it couldn't be ruined by any extra fat.

The kitchen was now like an erupting volcano of flavor, but the eruption didn't last long. After preparing in the morning, the busy girls finished all the work and began to greet people to bring the food to the restaurant.

The banquet at Hill Manor wasn't high-end, nor did it have any complicated rules. If there was one thing to say, it was that you weren't allowed to smack your lips while eating...

Professors from Miskatonic University, people in the town who knew about the existence of the other world, technicians from the two companies, and a few commanders of the Army Without Borders - most soldiers were still frightened by the training in this mansion and obviously had no intention of participating.

Not only that, there were also children led by Theresa Testarossa, who were slowly enjoying the cold cuts and desserts that had been served.

At this moment, except for Helen who had voluntarily stayed on the Alicorn, all the Nikki and Kivotos students had arrived. They scattered among the crowd, chatting with others about recent events, and watching Rhode weaving through the crowd to greet the guests who had arrived.

"Really? Because of the unusual snowstorm in Antarctica, the expedition team from Norway, the United States, France, and Denmark has delayed their departure... No, no, no, I can't possibly let the Michigan expedition team set off in this storm. That would be suicide."

Rhodes had no choice but to drive away the professors from the University of Michigan, but he was soon entangled by a newcomer - Dr. Ishiro Serizawa, who was also from the Cogito Foundation. This time he was invited by Director Alan Grant to study the data of Mother Earth's "Natural Balancers" - although this doctor was a nuclear physicist, his obsession with prehistoric monsters obviously surpassed his interest in nuclear physics.

After hearing about this, Rhodes also sent him an invitation.

"I heard you were planning to lead a team to Antarctica," Dr. Serizawa said, adjusting his glasses. He was curious about everything at Hill Manor, but even more curious about the young man before him. "I'd like to come along, too. Current research suggests a titanic beast might be slumbering within the Antarctic continent."

"I agree with you, Doctor."

Rhode recalled the legendary film universe, where "Monster Zero: King Ghidorah" was buried in Antarctica... Before personally investigating, he had no idea if this terrifying monster from the universe was buried there. But he was certain that there existed a creature in Antarctica that was no less destructive to human civilization than Ghidorah.

Strange shape.

This thing is even scarier than King Ghidorah!

Oh yeah, and there's this group of restless professors at Miskatonic University. Just from their names, you can tell what's in Antarctica... mountains taller than Everest, the Ancients, Shoggoths, and so on.

Thinking of this, Rhodes suddenly felt a headache - he couldn't just erect a giant tower at the South Pole to occupy the territory, right?

"Dr. Serizawa, not only do I agree with you, but I also intend for you to personally lead an expedition to investigate the behemoth...in secret," Rhodes said, glancing at the professors at the University of Michigan and adding helplessly, "They're no doubt clamoring to see it, so first determine the possible location of the behemoth and mark it. Don't alarm it—it's definitely not an enemy humanity can currently defeat."

"I understand. When should I leave?"

"As soon as the Antarctic snow stops, you will lead the team out immediately, avoiding all research stations. This will be a very difficult task, Doctor."

Rhodes said, then shook the wine glass in his hand and said with a smile:

"But for now, let's just enjoy the party, it'll be our last good time until December 25th... it's going to be busy from then on."

On the Alicorn.

Helen was sitting in the dim bridge, carefully studying the nautical charts and maps sent by Atlas. Her finger slid across the coast of the North American continent, drew a small circle at the location of Massachusetts, and there was a hint of loneliness in her eyes.

However, the next second, Nikki was hugged from behind, and a voice that was so familiar that it couldn't be more familiar rang in her ears:

"Perhaps you should relinquish responsibility for a short while?"

"No... for the Commander," Helen stood on tiptoe and tilted her head slightly so her cheek could touch Rhode's. "We have to leave someone here to guard. Those children—the mass-produced Nikkis—they definitely have very few chances of going to Hill Manor. But I'm different, right?"

"Even if you can't go, I will come."

Rhode said with a smile. He stretched out his hand, turned Nikki around, and held her in his arms again, whispering:

"Abigail and Pickman fixed a [door] on the Alicorn. In the future, we can travel back and forth. It will be even more convenient once Aperture Technology's portal technology matures."

"Um……"

"By the way, Helen, we are the only two left on the Alicorn now, right?"

"...Yes, wait, we can't leave the bridge, Commander. Someone must be on duty here."

"Oh, on the bridge then—in the captain's chair."

“Wait, wait… Uh…”

+++++++

[Important] Starting tomorrow, we'll be updating the extra volume "Armed Shrine Maiden Toyokawa Shoko." Please check it out and start saving up for the second volume, hoping to see if we can get a Warmaster's Expedition in early March! It'll basically be the same format as the extra volume updates for the original book—here's a preview:

"There's no use running away, Xiangzi... You can't run away, you can't run away, you can't run away..."

"When you are prepared, death will not find you, Xiangzi."

"Is it because of Su Shi that I have become weaker?"

"Su Shi is the one who can be my mother!"

"Armed Miko Shoko Toyokawa, Prototype AS 'Oblivionis' attacks!"

Volume 2: The Apocalypse

Chapter 302: Death of the Giant (1/20)

1991 12 Month 25 Day.

"In view of the situation following the creation of the Commonwealth of Independent States, I terminate my activities as President of the USSR..."

An era is over.

As Gorbachev's pen moved across the resignation document, the bronze five-pointed star on the Kremlin dome was condensing with December frost.

The bells of St. Basil's Cathedral rolled across Red Square, startling a group of jackdaws roosting under the eaves of Lenin's Mausoleum. Their black wings swept across the bullet holes in the vermilion palace walls - the scars left by the Nazi bombing in 1941, now oozing rusty water mixed with ice chips - the steel has rusted!

The crowd gathered in Red Square held candles, and the flames formed a trembling galaxy. I couldn't tell whether it was the wind that was trembling or the people holding the candles that were trembling.

Young people who shoulder responsibilities and the future carefully protect the candle flames, middle-aged people who bear too much pressure from reality wait calmly and indifferently, and the elderly people wrapped in tweed coats clench their frozen fingers and watch in pain as the crimson national flag slowly falls from the Kremlin flagpole.

come down.

Depravity.

Where is the new paradise? In the future, or in the past? But it is clearly not now.

Some were cheering, some were crying, but more were confused - what would happen when the Soviet Union no longer existed?

Could it be worse than it is now? People always try to comfort themselves with this.

They raised their heads and watched the tricolor flag slowly rise up. The white mist they exhaled condensed into fine frost particles on the surface of their faces. Each frost particle flashed with the dim light of the surrounding street lamps. At this sight, there was actually a faint halo on people's faces.

The news of the falling of the red flag spread from Moscow to St. Petersburg, to Volgograd, to Kiev, to Yekaterinburg, and to the entire country. From the plains to the mountains, from the hills to the sea, from workers to soldiers, from peasants to citizens, everyone knew it.

Now, next to the hammer and sickle emblems in every city, someone has already spray-painted crooked crosses - or perhaps even worse, some emblems are covered with Nazi symbols - blasphemy of former authority seems to have become a kind of pleasure and a means of disciplining others. For this reason, those people reach out without scruples or thinking, just to indulge in the carnival at this moment.

Statues were smashed, factories destroyed, data burned, scientists assassinated... Only the brand-new rifles, tanks stacked in warehouses, and fighter planes covered with tarpaulins were carefully preserved, because they needed to exchange them for something more valuable:

Gold, dollars, pounds, even francs, anything is fine, as long as it's not that damn ruble! How many models, how many fine wines, luxury cars and villas can that damn thing buy?

Sell ​​it out, sell it all! The ideals of the past have been eroding for decades, and the glorious past is being tarnished bit by bit. We will discredit your achievements, debase your history, insult your people, and turn you into zombies who will thank God even if they eat slop! We will fall asleep to your wails, we will laugh at your tears, and we will turn you into a sneering house dog licking its toes. In the future, who can stop us? Who can say, "My existence is a denial of you"?

Perhaps it will appear, but that existence will definitely be suppressed with a force a thousand times greater than that of this giant corpse, just to prevent new roads from extending, new directions from being identified, and new suns from rising... just to drag humanity into a dirty and decadent future.

This will never happen, because there is still a red star shining in this world - but the star is still too faint and too far away, far from its true nature as a star. However, the sun will eventually rise, the star will eventually shine, and there will always be someone standing on the mountaintop and saying to those ghosts and monsters:

"NO! Fuck you!"

Now, the sins woven from ambition and greed are slowly spreading through the veins of this vast frozen land. The wails and blood of innocents nourish the supernatural creatures from another dimension, drawing their gaze towards this place, clinging to the boundary between reality and the abyss, attempting to enter again and again. The steel-hard curtain is dissolving, and humans have weakened the barrier that protects them with their own hands.

An oily iridescence flashed across the sky above a certain city, the mottled patches of color like plague-infected skin, festering into blisters on the leaden-gray winter sky.

The air in a certain forest was filled with a sweet smell of sulfur and rotten honey, and every breath the beasts took would condense into spiky blood-red crystals on their nasal mucosa.

Inside an abandoned mine beneath a layer of permafrost, a bright, sparkling light flickered continuously. These were the hideous microorganisms that were spreading and growing on the surface of the pit walls, feeding on the retinas of living creatures and multiplying and spreading in their eye sockets.

Somewhere in the distance, the horizon seemed to twitch, the surging, jagged waves heaving up and down like a convulsing spine, and yellow-green pus oozing from the surface of the reef...

The violence and melancholy deep in the Slavs' blood erupted, awakening the ghouls that had existed for ages beneath the tundra. These ghouls, the twisted embodiment of their nation's nightmares, now slowly ascended through the long-cooled lava tubes of the otherworldly dimension. Perhaps all it took was a single slaughter and a single sacrifice for them to reappear before humanity saw them.

"We are walking on a tightrope—move quickly, warriors, to explore those dangerous places and push those dark things back into the abyss!"

"We have been given the greatest opportunity—commence the operation, agents, to bring back the sacrifices and brains we need, to pave the way for the soul to ascend to godhood!"

Those who know the truth are worried and send their best warriors to sacrifice themselves; those who know the truth laugh heartily and send the most vicious thieves to take the lives of the most innocent people; only the ignorant are confused and celebrate a victory that does not belong to them:

"We are free!"

Of course, these have nothing to do with the big men who have already torn the skin of the giant beast, peeled off its bones, and devoured its flesh and blood. They have more important things to do:

The phones in the office rang one after another, but this did not affect Yeltsin's interest. He even waited a few more seconds just to show his majesty as the President of the Russian Federation.

Power tastes really good, so who should I start with next?

Obviously the army.

Even as he thought this, Yeltsin reached for the bottle of wine on his desk—"Stoli," Red Label vodka, a gift from the US Embassy—and mercilessly unscrewed the cap. Then, he picked up one of the landline phones, placed it on his knees, and put the white receiver to his ear.

"I am listening, Your Excellency Marshal Akhromeyev, and I hope you are satisfied with the position of Minister of Defense of the Russian Federation."

"... I'm reassuring the military and veterans who have already left the military that the military will remain stable as you would expect."

"Thank you for your help, Your Excellency the Marshal."

Yeltsin was very satisfied with this marshal who had helped him a lot - at least he did not cause trouble like those idiots in the August 19 Incident - this old man had long lost his ambition and was just lingering like an old dog, clinging tightly to the power in his hands... This was a good thing, he would be kicked aside in a few years.

"You have shown greater ability than Gore or Bachov. I hope you can keep it up."

"Of course I will."

Yeltsin sniffed the aroma of the wine as he spoke, an intoxicated expression on his face. His fingernails, the fingernails of the noble President of the Russian Federation, scratched the bottle, casually scratching the hammer and sickle emblem, completely destroying it! This was good - the biggest and most important one was taken care of.

Then, the next one.

"Mr. Valery Mikhailovich Sablin, my best friend! How is the pacification of the Supreme Soviet going? What is the reaction of the delegates?" Yeltsin picked up another phone, his eyes turning colder. "Oh, yes, please allow me to congratulate you on your election as Chairman of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation. The chaos that followed the dissolution of the CPSU on November 6th must have been giving you a headache until now, right?"

"That's so easy for you to say," a voice complained from the other end of the line. "I'm already busy dealing with the party personnel transfer, not to mention trying to appease the representatives now."

"For God's sake, Valery Mikhailovich, please help me. The country is in trouble and the people need your encouragement."

"Of course I will."

Huh? A familiar response, but that's not the question.

"Well, next... take a sip first. I'm so thirsty, so thirsty."

The ringing never stopped, but it was pleasant enough.

While the oligarchs were busy cutting up bodies and dividing power, the whole world was seething with the collapse of the Soviet Union.

The enemies of the Red Giant are celebrating and opening bottle after bottle of fine wine, but when the sun rises tomorrow, they, as ordinary people, will immediately take out their knives and forks and quickly join in this feast - this will even include former allies, former enemies, and former friends.

However, for Rod, who was heading here, he had a more suitable job to do.

"...Members of the Ibris organization have arrived in Ukraine and are planning to conduct a transaction somewhere?"

"Okay, I know, I'll take care of it."

Rhodes hung up the satellite phone and watched as a black line in the distance gradually grew larger, as if some land soaked in darkness was slowly growing. That was Ukrainian land, not Soviet land; that was the people of Ukraine, not the people of the Soviet Union. And because of this, one could clearly realize a fact:

The giant is dead.