Seeing no orders being given, the police captain gritted his teeth and put the iron whistle to his lips:
"Tweet—"
Upon hearing the whistle, the police line, which had been continuously retreating and buckling inwards, seemed to freeze in absolute stillness for an instant.
The next moment, the entire line began to writhe again, but in the opposite direction—the inwardly curved crescent moon, like a drawn bowstring, rebounded after hitting its limit.
The front rank shield bearers delivered a wave of uneven shield bashes. The dense but disorganized crowd line retreated slightly under this impact.
The second rank shield bearers quickly grabbed the harnesses of the first rank and pulled them back. The first rank, already somewhat exhausted from the previous confrontation, skillfully retreated, swapping positions with the rank behind them.
Seeing the police line shift, many people thought they saw an opportunity and rushed forward, only to be beaten back by the shields swung from left to right by the second rank. The police took advantage of this to push forward, straightening the previously buckled line once more.
But the crowd was relentless. They shouted and yelled, their words mostly demanding an explanation from Michael [Official Michael], even though they themselves knew that any "explanation" would be useless.
Besides, things had progressed this far without bloodshed. If they persisted stubbornly, that might not remain the case.
These were things one could figure out simply by calming down. But getting everyone to remain calm amidst extreme anger wasn't something achievable solely through individual effort.
Michael [Duplicate Michael], the only one with the slight ability to curb the crowd's fury, did nothing. The target of their anger stood helplessly on the steps. The police captain, whistle in his mouth, was once again caught in a dilemma.
Fortunately, Mei remained clear-headed. She made a 'pause' gesture to the police captain, stopping him from taking further action.
But just then, a group of extremely fit men in black suddenly charged out from the side intersection. They stormed the armored vehicle roof, fearlessly facing the long poles thrust at them by the police. Instead, they seized the opportunity to clamp the poles under their arms and armpits, engaging in a test of strength with the police below.
Then, a second wave of black-clad men charged forward recklessly, curling into balls and jumping down, using their momentum to throw the police line into disarray.
The sides, already hampered by barricades, had fewer police assigned. The defensive line, which seemed impenetrable moments ago, was suddenly scattered.
Although the police quickly reacted, using stun batons to subdue the group of black-clad men who broke through the line, two ultimately ran faster, charging straight towards the last police line standing before the steps.
"Quick, use the Tasers!" The police on the final line mostly handled routine patrols and had virtually no riot control experience. Someone ordered the use of stun guns while the two men were still far off.
All the officers who could react drew their Tasers and fired. But not only were these stun guns difficult to aim accurately, their range was only seven meters. By the time they completed a meaningless volley, the two black-clad men had indeed closed within Taser range. But these guns had another problem—
They only fired once.
Seeing the two men's ferocious faces, the police officers blocking their path drew a blank. All thoughts of avoiding bloodshed, of cautious firing, were overwhelmed by a powerful survival instinct. Without any suspense, they gripped the handguns holstered on their other side...
"Bang!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
...
The sudden gunfire startled everyone. Dozens of gray smoke puffs erupted from the two black-clad men's bodies. After stumbling forward a few more steps, they pitched headfirst at the feet of the police officers.
The officers who had fired weren't even fully aware of what they'd just done, neurotically pulling the triggers at the corpses on the ground until their entire magazines were empty.
The loud gunshots echoed continuously in the narrow space enclosed by the factory buildings, jarring everyone's nerves. For a moment, both the police and the rioting crowd froze, motionless, soundless.
Mei's mouth hung slightly open, staring towards the source of the gunfire, seemingly resisting tinnitus in this way.
Michael [Duplicate Michael], however, clenched his fists tightly. Something in his mind had awakened with the incessant gunfire, now pricking his nerves like needles.
Suddenly, everyone squinted in unison. After lingering for so long, blinding golden light tore through the mountains east of the city. A massive sun leaped up from the gap. Only a few faint wisps of gunpowder smoke rose into the air, mixing an ominous touch of black into the sacred golden light.
The echo of gunfire still reverberated annoyingly, like invisible, sharp blades, fraying everyone's nerves to an extremely fragile state.
"Click—"
The remote-controlled machine gun mounted on the armored vehicle suddenly made an unusual sound, exceptionally clear in the utter silence of sunrise.
For those familiar with firearms, this sound was unmistakable—it was being loaded.
Those pointed at by the dark muzzle instantly despaired.
Equally desperate were the operators of the remote machine gun, because they hadn't issued the loading command. Simply put, the gun was out of control.
From loading to firing wouldn't even take a second. But the gunfire didn't resume. Instead, a clear snap of fingers was heard.
After the snap, the remote machine gun's cables suddenly burst, purple electric arcs flickering within.
This certainly prevented greater casualties, but what use was it?
People gradually recovered from the earlier gunfire. Only a small fraction noticed the remote machine gun's activity. Setting aside how many of those who noticed understood what truly happened, in the eyes, ears, and consciousness of the majority, only one thought remained—
"The cops opened fire!"
It's unclear which woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek, like an old hen waking people at dawn, announcing the arrival of danger to everyone present.
Naturally, many flinched back, scrambling towards the rear of the crowd. But the majority felt anger—
Why?
We just wanted an explanation! Even if you weren't willing to explain, weren't willing to admit fault, did you have to kill to silence us?
Why?
We just wanted back the supplies we earned through our labor! What's wrong with that?
Why?
We just want to live a little easier! We just want work not to be so tiring! To go home early each day and reunite with our families! We just want our children not to work before they come of age! We just want every D-grade ration we receive to be unopened, completely full... Isn't this what we rightfully deserve?
For twelve years, to survive, we lost so much, suffered so much. We just want to live, just want to continue. If daily necessities could be met, if human dignity could be guaranteed, that would be more than enough.
After hoping for so many years, they said the United Government implemented a supply rationing plan: participate in production, get supplies. Looking at the supply list, it seemed decent, even a little comfortable beyond basic needs. So everyone eagerly signed up.
Who knew... no, everyone should have known. Theory and reality are often two different things. From the beginning, supplies were never distributed in full as advertised.
The required work became increasingly burdensome. Initially, it was eight hours a day; soon, twelve hours became normal. Initially, children under sixteen were forbidden from working; now, children over twelve participating in production is commonplace...
So, when the Fire Moth replaced the United Government, everyone's reaction was schadenfreude, waiting for the new government to solve the problems. At the very least, gradually implementing the conditions initially listed by the United Government should be possible, right?
But disappointment came wave after wave. The bureaucrats managing them didn't change. Treatment didn't improve. Instead, as time passed, the proportion of supplies deducted increased—
Actually, it's not hard to understand. The exploiters' demands never decreased, but rather gradually expanded. Yet the number of exploited plummeted due to the Honkai. The sinking of the Mu Continent wiped out a third of the population at once. How could the burden on each remaining individual not increase?
Yes, it's imaginable, but imaginable absolutely doesn't mean understandable or acceptable!
Those reveling in the neon lights of the upper district, those hiding in the City Hall on the city edge and the coastal villas—weren't they like this before the Honkai began? Haven't they always been like this?
But... just because it has always been so, does that make it right?
They say people tend to unite more easily against external threats, setting aside internal conflicts and barriers to face the common enemy.
But often, it's precisely at such times that people's nerves become incredibly fragile due to despair and fear. When they abruptly realize one thing—
Living is so hard, living brings no joy, living only brings pain—then death itself is no longer terrifying, perhaps even a release.
And for the rioting crowd at this moment, only one thought remained in their minds—
Tear apart that well-dressed beast on the stage!
So what if we get killed by the police? We didn't want to stay in this broken world anymore anyway! If we die, we die!
They swarmed, surged forward like madmen. Even the few who initially wanted to retreat were swept forward by the human tide. The thin police line was once again forced back relentlessly. But this time, it wasn't just the center buckling; the entire line retreated.
The police captain now had to make his decision. He could hesitate no longer. Once the crowd broke through the police line, the First Herrscher could take Dr. Mei and leave. They could even take Michael [Official Michael]. But he would be torn apart by these people in the first instant!
"Tweeeeeet—"
This whistle blast was still sharp, but significantly longer than the last.
The police line, previously retreating uncontrollably—after all, the disparity in numbers was too great; they were like a crumbling dam, watching the water level rise, waves surge, the reinforcing steel groaning silently...
But upon hearing this whistle, the police line miraculously stabilized once more and began a rapid, precise formation change—
Those originally in the rearmost rank, holding round shields and short batons, suddenly surged forward through the gaps.
The two ranks of flail wielders in the middle followed closely, left and right, striking forward together.
The long shield bearers, originally at the front, also spread out to the sides, becoming the links connecting the other three, occasionally shielding them from attacks or continuously shield-bashing to force the rioting crowd back.
The police struck without mercy. Transparent riot shields were quickly smeared with mixtures of blood and gore. Someone's flail even broke off, forcing them to use the remaining handle as a long staff, only for that to snap quickly too.
The things these commoners hated and resisted had no effect on them. If any were clever, they might realize where the generous bonuses they received for each mission came from.
Since their happiness was built upon the suffering of those before them, why not make these people suffer a little more? Even though they knew they were just thugs for those reaping greater benefits, their attack dogs.
But so what?
In any era, surviving, living a little better, is king. Besides, they earned that money by risking their lives, fighting Honkai Beasts around the protective net!
Neither side would yield. The only path left was a bloody collision.
And Michael [Official Michael] just stared blankly at everything unfolding before him, seemingly incredulous, yet perhaps having anticipated it all along.
Suddenly, he too went mad. After a long howl towards the sky, he ripped off his suit jacket, stomped it underfoot, and charged headlong into the rioting crowd.
His head of golden hair was exceptionally conspicuous amidst the grimy commoners, but only for two or three seconds.
That flash of gold was quickly grabbed by the furious crowd, then viciously trampled. There was no longer, nor could there ever be, any possibility of it resurfacing from the human sea.
"Enough!" The smell of gunpowder hadn't dissipated, yet the stench of blood was already thick enough to overwhelm it.
"Enough!!" Every dull impact almost certainly meant a life extinguished. A layer of corpses quickly piled up along the line of engagement between police and crowd, separating the grappling combatants into distinct sides, forced to pummel each other over the wall of bodies.
"ENOUGH!!!" Michael [Duplicate Michael] hadn't not tried using the Authority of Sentience to prevent this. He had been using it constantly.
But at this stage, the meager Authority of Sentience held by a mere duplicate was useless. Often, just as he managed to make people on the field hesitate for a second, the shouts of others would instantly reignite their previous anger.
The Authority of Sentience could perhaps achieve much, but at this moment, in this situation theoretically perfect for its deployment... perhaps it was powerless against twelve years of suppressed human rage erupting at this instant.
Or perhaps, the one wielding it, for some psychological reason, didn't push it to its absolute limit.
In short, at this moment, this Authority, usually considered invincible against humans themselves, could do nothing.
But the one possessing the Authority had to do something. Even if he was just a duplicate, even if the original might arrive at any moment, he felt that bearing Michael's name, he had to do something to stop the tragedy before him.
He certainly could do something, if he paid the price of his own demise.
Thus, red patterns lit up on his chest.
Blood scattered, filling every groove in the asphalt. After the clash of black and red, perhaps an illusion, a hint of green seemed to subtly emerge.
No, it wasn't an illusion.
The next moment, thousands of green vines burst from the ground. They were slender yet resilient, seemingly thorny, but their movements weren't overly violent. Instead, they skillfully separated the grappling individuals.
If anyone still tried to act, the vines would bind their limbs, tightening continuously until pain awakened their reason.
Having done this, Michael's duplicate let out a sigh of relief. In the end, he too had to resort to near-violent means to resolve everything.
"Click—"
The duplicate looked towards the source of the sound, seeing only a camera in the corner of the Tower pointing directly at him.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he had already overdrawn his energy as a duplicate and violated the "taboo" left within his body by the original. Under the backlash of the Authority of Death, his body rapidly disintegrated, becoming almost nothing.
In his final moments, he saw a familiar face appear before him... no, strictly speaking, it was himself.
"Thank you. You did well. Rest now." The duplicate's lips moved continuously. The original seemed to sense what he wanted to say, but the words hadn't even fully formed in his mind before dissolving along with the duplicate's death.
Michael [Original] ultimately couldn't know the duplicate's final thoughts, but he no longer cared.
With his arrival, an invisible electromagnetic field enveloped almost the entire continent of America. He bypassed all existing communication devices, establishing a new communication system externally.
But it seemed a bit late...
The instant he handed the temporarily created communicator to Mei, Elvin's piercing cry crossed the ocean:
"Doctor! There's... there's..."
Perhaps his warning wasn't needed. Michael [Original], sensing something, looked up. The blue-gray sky was filled with the white trails left by missiles.