Life Game In Other World
Chapter 1242: A Friend (Long - , Requesting Monthly Pass)

Chapter 1242: Chapter 1242: A Friend (Long Chapter, Requesting Monthly Pass)

"Dawn City is a bit chaotic right now. I’ve encountered quite a few gang members causing trouble. Can the Wilderness Wanderers support Dawn City’s Police Bureau and help maintain order?"

He retracted his gaze and spoke softly.

"...Of course,"

Penny, upon hearing his response, seemed momentarily dazed but quickly regained her composure, replying swiftly, "I’m currently organizing the Wilderness Wanderers to help maintain order,

"After all, Mayor Christos and we Wilderness Wanderers are one and the same. If something happens to him, it will be hard for us to stay in this city.

"Maintaining order can also help improve and eliminate Dawn City’s citizens’ original biases against the Wanderers."

"Mhm."

Hearing this, He Ao nodded slightly and said in a low voice, "Some gang members are causing trouble near the park as well. Have your people take care of it."

"Understood,"

Penny immediately responded, "I’ll send someone over right away."

"I appreciate it."

He Ao nodded slightly, raised his hand, and hung up the phone.

Then he turned around and looked toward the armed motorbike in the short distance.

A resolute, ponytailed woman stood quietly beside the motorbike, her gaze fixed on him as the night wind flowed around her.

Jessie tilted her head up to look at the familiar yet bloodied face. She opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but all the words faltered at her lips, reducing instead to a tightness in her chest. Tears uncontrollably welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Soon, she felt a pair of warm hands lift her face gently, wiping away the tears on her cheeks just as they used to.

She raised her hand, wanting to clasp those hands within her own.

She looked up at the familiar yet unfamiliar face in front of her and asked softly, "Are you leaving again?"

She didn’t receive an answer to her question. Her outstretched hand grasped nothing but empty air.

The roar of the motorbike engine reverberated under the firmament, receding quickly into the distance.

The hands that had held her face were gone before she knew it, leaving only the dry traces of tears and a lingering warmth to assure her it hadn’t been a dream.

Sniffling, she watched as the figure became nearly indistinguishable in her field of view. Lowering her head, she murmured quietly, almost inaudibly, "Will you come back?"

Buzz—

At that moment, her wristband vibrated twice.

She raised it to glance at the just-received message—from a pinned contact avatar that had long been inactive.

Two new messages awaited her. The first was a sticker she hadn’t seen in ages: a "bye-bye" emoji.

The second was a brief message:

[See you next time.]

The soft wind swept across the tear marks on her face, and her lips curved into an uncontrollable smile.

After a brief hesitation, she raised her wristband and sent back a "goodbye" sticker as well.

She added a comment: [Your sticker is outdated.]

No reply came. It seemed the other person had stopped checking their wristband.

After a brief wait, she gently lowered her wristband.

Buzz—

In that instant, her wristband vibrated again.

The "goodbye" sticker she’d sent was returned as-is, followed by another—an emoji from two years ago that read: "Your picture is great, but now it’s mine."

Her faint smile widened fully. Jessie raised her head and looked ahead.

The vehicle’s silhouette had long disappeared, leaving only a blurred speck in her impeccably clear line of sight.

She thought she saw the tiny figure raise a hand and wave gently at her.

Sniffling again, tears ran down her flushed, smiling face. "See you next time."

——

Dawn City · Crown District

"What do we do now?"

Golden hair swayed in the night as a jet of flame from her boots carried her form between skyscrapers. She raised her head, revealing a stunning face in the dim light of the evening.

She looked toward the distant horizon, where dense formations of mechas roared with flames like a river of stars, illuminating the night sky as they advanced rapidly along a specific route.

"Try intercepting them—stop as many as you can,"

came a voice through the comm channel. "But don’t rush in alone. We’ve only got a handful of people. If you charge in recklessly, you’ll get yourself killed."

"Do I look like some dumb broad to you?"

The blonde quirked an eyebrow, brushing a hand against the Mithril box at her waist. "I’ll sneak around from behind. What about the Federal Bureau of Investigation—do they have firepower for suppression?"

"Barely, damn it,"

The raspy voice on the line clicked its tongue. "Half the folks at the Bureau are on the corporations’ payroll. Getting them to move is like pulling teeth. The city’s crawling with gangs and escaped convicts right now too. Those sons of bitches—someday, I’ll bust every last one of them."

"What about the Director?"

The blonde asked quickly. "Is Director Vilint in on it too?"

"No idea. Haven’t been able to reach him since earlier tonight. Usually, the old guy’s pretty reliable. God knows what’s up today. Even his secretary’s phone won’t connect,"

the voice grumbled. "For now, we don’t have time to worry about him. I’ve sorted the floating warplane units. I’ll bring people over pronto. How’s the situation on your end?"

"Not great."

The blonde shifted her gaze.

Directly ahead of the mecha battalion stood a grand palace adorned with a towering statue, radiating splendor as it loomed in the darkness.

"Smith,"

The blonde took her gaze back and opened the Mithril box at her waist. "If I die, make sure to visit Ande’s grave occasionally. You can slack off, but don’t forget about him. He has no other family left in this world."

Before the voice on the other end could respond, she severed the connection and opened the Mithril box.

A mass of pulsing, heart-like flesh emerged from the night, swiftly spreading across her mechanical frame.

The undulating tissue crept up her pale cheek, transforming her glimmering mechanical left eye into a blood-infused, vivid human eye streaked with red veins.

Flesh and machine intertwined across her exquisite features, creating an eerie yet captivating beauty.

Her reformed eye lifted, locking onto the advancing mecha battalion.

A surge of flame erupted beneath her feet, propelling her forward at shocking speed.

At the horizon of her vision, small warplanes emerged from the illustrious palace, targeting the aerial mechas.

Explosions of fire lit up the night sky.

——

Glorious Palace

Standing behind tremendous transparent floor-to-ceiling windows, a man in a silver suit observed the mecha battalion now visible on the horizon with a calm demeanor.

Numerous small floating warplanes and concealed turrets among buildings slowly emerged.

A torrent of artillery fire erupted from the turrets, unhesitatingly rushing toward the advancing mechas.

Under the cover of this barrage, the floating warplanes moved to intercept.

Meanwhile, the mecha battalion had prepared its own artillery, brilliant lasers piercing the night sky instantly.

"Mr. Christos, the Mayor’s Guard can’t possibly hold off that mecha battalion. Should we consider an evacuation for you?"

The middle-aged man standing at the office door asked softly. "This is the final critical moment, sir."

"This city is my home. This palace is my residence,"

Christos replied calmly. "If I were to flee, where could I even go?"

Gazing at the mecha battalion now enveloped by firelight, he smiled faintly. "When ’Christos’ is forced to leave the Glorious Palace outside of an election, it marks the end of his relevance. A person’s body can die, but their spirit mustn’t be extinguished."

Hearing these words, the middle-aged man fell silent for a moment before speaking, "There may be a B-level Transcendent hidden among that mecha team. Without a large-scale military force, stopping someone of that caliber is impossible. If they infiltrate the palace for a decapitation strike, I won’t be able to protect you."

"When the time comes, you should leave too,"

Christos glanced back at the middle-aged man and said softly, "You’ve only been working as my Guard Captain for a few months. There’s no need for you to lose your life here. Our contract doesn’t have any clauses requiring you to sacrifice yourself.

"I’ve arranged for your family to leave with Sett."

"Technically speaking, this would be the time for me to leave,"

The middle-aged man chuckled, his gaze resting on the silver-haired figure before him. "But someone has to stand in front of you at the very last moment, don’t they? If I fled as a security officer and abandoned my employer, I’d have no future prospects in this field."

He met Christos’ gaze, his expression turning serious. "When I learned your previous City Defense Chief resigned voluntarily and I accepted your offer, I had already made up my mind."

Hearing this, Christos paused slightly, then offered a faint smile. "In that case, I’ll count on you in the end."

"It would be my honor."

The middle-aged man straightened his posture and saluted Christos.

Christos was quiet for a moment but then turned back toward the window.

The Mayor’s Guard’s floating warplanes had already engaged the mecha battalion in combat.

Compared to the seasoned mecha units that had weathered countless wilderness battles, the Mayor’s Guard’s combat effectiveness was negligible.

Within just a few exchanges of fire, during the short exchange between Christos and the middle-aged man, the Mayor’s Guard had begun to collapse.

The pilots of the floating warplanes were clearly struggling to maintain the battle line, attempting to delay the mechas’ advance.

But against the superior maneuverability and firepower of the mechas, the floating warplanes were practically toys in comparison.

Ultimately, the floating warplane units of the Mayor’s Guard were thoroughly routed by the mechas.

"Don’t skimp on the munitions. Focus on saving the frontline fighters wherever possible."

Christos’ hoarse voice resonated as he observed the burning aerial battlefront and the flames igniting over the night sky above.

The middle-aged man behind him hesitated slightly upon hearing this directive.

Most of their ground munitions were reserved for a final desperate stand should the mechas close in. If they were used now, the last line of defense might fail miserably, falling far short of their intended delay.

Yet after a brief moment of consideration, he snapped upright and acknowledged, "Yes, Mr. Christos!"

Then he turned and exited the room, leaving the office behind.

The now-empty office held only Christos.

Far-off explosions grew nearer, with the omnipresent flames of battle nearly erasing the neon lights visible between the city’s skyscrapers, painting the urban landscape in a whole other shade entirely.

As the aerial battlefront collapsed, the ground artillery unleashed a ferocious barrage, pouring ammunition as though it cost nothing onto the mechas pressing from behind.

The sudden flurry of firepower momentarily halted the advancing mechs—providing the battered floating warplanes a narrow window to regroup and retreat to safer distances.

Though a significant portion of the air units had been preserved in the process, there was no denying the bitter reality—the defensive line had fallen apart.

The relentless flames drew ever closer to the ancient palace.

At that precise moment, a golden-patterned mech, accompanied by several others, breached the fiery shield, rushing into the cluster of retreating floating warplanes attempting to reorganize.

The mech raised its cannon, and instantly, streaks of explosive fire lit up the world.

The ground-based artillery sought to bring down the intruding mechs but failed, their barrages eluded by the agile, dexterous defenses of their targets.

The golden-patterned mech raised its head, glancing at the palace ahead.

Its gaze seemed to pierce through the towering floor-to-ceiling window, finding Christos standing within.

Aiming its weapon squarely at Christos’ location, the golden mech began to charge its lethal payload. Blinding radiance pulsed from its barrel.

Christos watched the event unfold quietly, as though he were a mere spectator.

In the blink of an eye, the golden-patterned mech neared the sacred grounds of the Glorious Palace.

"You bastard!"

In that critical instant, a thunderous, wrathful roar erupted through the air.

From a corner on the palace grounds, a figure shot forth—a streak of radiant light ripping through the heavens.

Just as the mech’s barrel was on the verge of discharging its devastating attack, the streak slammed straight through the entirety of its frame.

BOOM—

The violent explosion erupted high in the skies above the Glorious Palace, engulfing the night in blinding luminosity akin to the break of day.

Christos tilted his head, glancing briefly at the clock on the wall.

Right on time.

Beep—

Suddenly, a communication device on the desk came to life, broadcasting the puzzled voice of the middle-aged man, "Mr. Christos, what was that?"

Christos gazed into the falling embers beyond the window and softly replied, "An ally willing to assist us."

After receiving a warning from a certain "old friend," he hadn’t entered this fray without backup.

Even if darkness gripped the city in its vice, he could still find a few figures with sparks of defiance burning in the night.

——

The radiant burst in the sky split into two streaks of light, plummeting toward the streets below the palace, smashing them into craters of rubble.

Clap, clap, clap—

A lean young man with tousled golden hair stepped out of the lamplight’s shadow cast over the crater. He clapped softly and sighed,

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Trapped in such dire circumstances, and in such a short interval, Christos still managed to engineer a gambit to turn things around."

His gaze fell upon the craters before him, eyeing the figure of a man slowly walking out of the debris. The man, donning a trench coat, sported streaks of gray in his hair.

Smirking, the young man said, "A most unexpected meeting indeed, Director Vilint. By all accounts, shouldn’t you be safely asleep in the Federal Bureau of Investigation Building at this hour?"

"Most of the time, I don’t take kindly to Transcendents who pose as others,"

Vilint brushed the dust off his coat. "Especially those who disguise themselves as my secretary and lace my coffee with drugs."

His cold eyes locked on the blonde youth in front of him. "Of course, I despise even more those reeking of cultist filth. Twisted souls like yours snuff out any desire to even take a sip of coffee."

The golden-haired youth’s smile faded, his expression growing increasingly frigid.