Crack crack... crunch...
A massive palm-shaped crater formed in the ground, the terrifying impact turning the surroundings into ruins. Fortunately, this area was part of the Mechanical Settlement, so no bystanders were harmed.
Zzt zzt... zzt zzt...
The fallen drone soldiers' bodies sparked intermittently. Though they appeared undamaged externally, their internal movement modules had been shattered from a distance, leaving them paralyzed.
Only a boss-level robot like Svarog fared slightly better. It struggled to turn its head, reaching out to Clara, its voice stuttering, "Sister Clara... I-I don't want to die."
"I... my desired life is so simple—just... protecting Belobog, just being a bystander... watching the people of Belobog pass down their legacy generation after generation."
"Just... for a life like that, do I... do I have to keep risking my life?"
In despair (though it couldn't show it), Svarog reached out. "Clara... I don't want to die."
Thud.
Svarog's hand fell limply.
Clara sighed. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. I'll fix you up later."
With that, she set Svarog aside and walked toward the culprit of this incident, Skott.
Skott had been blasted far by the shockwave, now lying face-down, one finger raised, seemingly unconscious.
Clara clicked her tongue. "Keep pretending to be dead, and I'll make it real."
"Ugh..."
Skott groaned, turning over with a terrified expression. "Sister Clara, I-I don't want to die either."
"I... my desired life is simple too. I just want fine red wine to drink, imported steak to eat, to become a P45-level executive in the company, to fire my traitorous father's job, to clear my name by ousting the legal department's nosy female boss..."
"...and a massive luxury mansion, a hundred mecha servants, a private interstellar spaceship..."
Skott rattled off a long list of wishes before continuing, "Do I... do I have to keep risking my life for a life like that? It was bad enough on the Xianzhou, but even here, it's the same—defeated by a woman, mocked by my subordinates..."
"I don't have a choice, right? I just made the same mistake every company employee makes. Can't you be a little more forgiving..."
Bang!
Before Skott could finish, Clara stomped on his face, knocking him out cold.
What a weirdo.
Clara shook her head. These guys didn't seem like Belobog locals... Whatever, she'd call Stelle and ask.
"Hm?"
Just as Clara was about to message Stelle, hurried footsteps approached. She looked up and saw Dan Heng and Welt, whom she'd met before.
...
"No... no way, best of 1,025, win 513..."
Stelle propped her head on the table, her voice weak, looking as drained as if she'd gone 300 rounds gaming with March 7th.
Don't let the simplicity of coin-tossing fool you—it involved open gambits, psychological warfare, and the nerve-wracking tension before the reveal, all massively draining.
But of the two sides tossing coins, it seemed only Stelle was strategizing, while Numby consistently chose the opposite of Stelle's guess, effortlessly winning.
"This... this isn't right."
As another coin result was revealed, Stelle collapsed on the table, utterly dejected. "This luck... it defies reason."
Numby puffed out her chest proudly. "Sorry, it's either nothing or everything!"
"I can't... I'm done..."
Stelle slumped on the table, weakly calling out, "Waiter, take our order!"
At this point, she needed food to replenish her energy.
"Coming."
The waiter responded and approached the four. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. "It's you?!"
Stelle: ?
She looked up, confused. The waiter looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen him.
"Who are you?"
As soon as Stelle asked, she felt a tug on her sleeve. Turning, March 7th whispered, "He's the owner from the time we dined and dashed."
Stelle: ...!
Right, how could she forget?
The first time they came to Belobog, she and March 7th, short on cash, had skipped out on a bill in a pinch. They'd planned to come back and pay, but the next day, the "Great Guardian assassination incident" happened, and they forgot all about it.
Stelle's words were like a spark, instantly igniting the owner's fury.
"You didn't pay last time, ate and took food, and now you dare come back?"
"I admire your guts!"
The owner laughed in anger, waving a hand. Five burly men surrounded them, their gazes hostile.
"Pay up! Including the door repair costs. If you don't, don't blame me for getting rough!"
Stelle raised her hands, shrinking back. "We'll pay, we'll pay! Cocolia, where's our activity funds? Where's the check Gepard approved?"
Cocolia's eyes lit up. She promptly slapped a check on the table. "Boss, how much do they owe? This should cover it."
Seeing her pay so readily, the owner was momentarily surprised. "Dining fees, service fees, door repair fees, lost wages, emotional distress... 2,000 Winter City Shields, or the new credit points will do."
But Cocolia shook her head slightly. "2,000 won't do."
Stelle: ???
Hey, what's that supposed to mean, big sis?
"Won't do? What's that mean? Playing me?" The owner's anger flared again, ready to escalate.
"Of course 2,000 won't do," Cocolia said seriously. "Let me break it down. Since these two owe you, doesn't that mean there's interest to account for?"
Owner: ?
"Excluding interest, I think the emotional distress fee is too low. This gray-haired girl, Stelle, is so infuriating. If she dined and dashed on you, your emotional distress should at least be doubled."
"Not to mention the negative impact she caused..."
...
Qlipoth Fort.
Having finished the day's work, Gepard leisurely took out his phone to scroll through videos, openly slacking off.
But... for some reason, he suddenly felt uneasy. Why was that?