Apocalypse respawn

The group divided the looted valuables according to their shares. Aside from the coins, class upgrade tokens, and solid metal objects, the rest had uncertain values. Thus, trades occurred among them based on their affinities. Rargnes pocketed two upgrade tokens—highly prized items due to their significant, universal value and small size—and left the rest with his father-in-law, Luan. He then spent the rest of the night monitoring the area with two others who regularly switched to transport all the riches to safety.

Just before dawn, after receiving confirmation via walkie-talkie, they left with the slaves. By dawn, the city had changed.

The city's streets gave way to a different scene: a crowd silently watching the sordid spectacle before them. Some were crying, others walked away with red eyes, most were pale or displayed an indifference tinged with sadness. There were sounds of teeth grinding and curses. All were looking at unembalmed bodies, sometimes dismembered, most in coffins. Many of those in the coffins were amputated. Some were marked by torture, with cuts and burns from combat, amputated fingers, and ripped-off nails. Other remains resembled butchered parts more than bodies, making it unclear if they belonged to one or several individuals.

The crowd gradually left the square, while Rargnes continued his comings and goings since the beginning of the day. He left again and settled on a stone staircase where his group was.

"How much did you get?"

"Not even enough for an upgrade token," said Luan. "After all we did for them. Well, at least you're not doing too bad." He leaned towards Mei. "How much did you get already?"

"Apart from the equipment, roughly the same amount."

"Seriously? Wow..."

"I—" Rargnes tried to interject.

"The most important families monopolized the area. And from what I've heard, they didn't lack energized armor. While we were fighting three against one, they looted the best spots in large numbers. And we still have to patrol until the remaining enemies are killed."

Passersby averted their eyes from the loud conversation.

"What are they talking about?" Jean asked Mei, who explained while the others continued. When he finally understood the situation, he said, "Well, they're replacing the state now, nothing unusual. They're thieves. The only difference is they're mortal."

Hearing the translation, the locals asked more about their home worlds. Rargnes left them and rejoined the public square where the allied dead were exhumed as if to pay them homage. In his opinion, the goal was related to propaganda: they showed their power through the difficulty of the battle. It was—as were the corpses hanging at the gates of cities and villas of former enemies—a blatant intimidation from those who had rushed to annex as many enemy assets as possible.

Seeing the bodies, Rargnes looked grave. A strange feeling boiled inside him. He had barely known them, hardly seen them, yet he felt immense hatred at the sight of these corpses. Energy concentrated in his body, ready to burst from his fist against a building or an enemy.

Of the 227 mercenaries engaged in the operation, 32 had lost their lives. An even greater number of allied bourgeois had perished. Added to this were the injured, who had lost one or more limbs, sometimes between life and death. In contrast, the vast majority of the enemy had been killed or captured, with a small percentage remaining in hiding.

It wasn't their deaths that disgusted him, but the unnecessary torture. It was a waste of energy to inflict pain, to intimidate. Murderous urges ran through him.

People considered it normal here.

Feeling his hatred overflow, he rejoined his group, each member watching different street intersections for any suspicious movement, but mainly to prevent any suspicious crowd gathering.

Their leaders believed that the fury would dissipate through terror after a few days.

"Yeah, it's so devious," said one of the locals in his group whose name he had forgotten. "Luckily, the noble forbids these things."

"He probably does it mainly to keep his power," said Jean, translated.

Juan shook his head. "No. Apparently, he's a fan of energy and good management. From what he says, he was once an administrator of a village but managed it so well he became a noble."

"How long has he been around?" asked Jean.

"A good amount of time. Twenty-one years, I think."

"But aren't all the administrators goblins?" asked Mei.

"Oh, that was in his previous life! The noble says he remembers it. Back then, goblins hadn't yet been created by the king. If you're really interested, he even had a few books written about his life."

"How many of your people died?" cut Rargnes somewhat awkwardly.

The conversation became more tense.

"I think around fifty."

Rargnes did the math in his head. If the allied fighters were roughly equivalent to theirs, that would mean nearly 80 deaths out of 450 or 500 participants. Around 15% casualties...

He clenched his fists and mouth unconsciously as he limped back towards the bodies despite the pain. He heard a voice behind him asking, "What's wrong with him?"