That afternoon, Michael wandered like a lost soul, drifting aimlessly in and out of the town. The residents of Cinder Town quickly noticed something amiss with their chief today. His responses to their respectful greetings were absent-minded, a stark contrast to his usual earnest or playful banter. With his brows furrowed deeply, he seemed tormented by a critical decision, the weight of which was so immense that even a man of his stature found it difficult to resolve. Sensing this, the small, forcibly-christened "town" gradually fell into a hushed silence .
The townsfolk's intuition was correct. Since around eleven o'clock that morning, after hearing Old Lameleg's account of the long-forgotten prophecy, Michael had been plunged into this state of agonizing indecision. He now understood the profound significance behind the previous night's unexpected snowfall.
Each falling snowflake, while causing inconvenience with its radioactivity, also represented a monumental opportunity. They carried suspended radioactive dust down from the sky, cleansing the atmosphere. As winter approached and temperatures plummeted, this rare snowfall would likely increase, signaling a gradual purification of the polluted heavens. If snow fell nightly, the process wouldn't take long; perhaps within two or three months, the radiation levels in the snow would diminish to within the tolerable range for the wasteland's hardy inhabitants. By the end of this unusually long winter, the sky above might become clear. Rain would no longer be a catastrophe, a crucial factor for the revival of civilization and agriculture. The world would slowly become habitable and arable again. Although returning to its pre-war state would require a long time, it offered a tangible hope .
However, before this promising future could unfold, the wasteland's inhabitants would first face a colossal crisis born from these very changes.
Firstly, the harsh weather would make survival increasingly difficult for scavengers. The most obvious peril was the growing scarcity of food. Driven by extreme hunger, people would become desperate and fearless, capable of unimaginable actions for a mere morsel. While small towns, with their relatively larger food stores, were typically safe due to their armed guards, this would change when starvation truly set in. The thought of Cinder Town, renowned in the region for its prosperity, becoming the primary target for hordes of desperate, hungry scavengers made Michael shudder. These locust-like hordes could destroy everything he and his people had painstakingly built .
Secondly, to survive the freezing nights, scavengers would need to burn vast amounts of wood for warmth. However, even after burning all available combustibles on the wasteland, including the tumbleweeds, it would be insufficient to last the entire winter. Consequently, his small coal mining outpost would inevitably become a target for countless people. Regarding this, Michael wasn't overly concerned. If people needed coal to avoid freezing, they could dig for it themselves; he wasn't so selfish as to watch multitudes perish. The coal seam seemed extensive enough to last many people for a considerable time. If this open-pit coal mine was exhausted this winter, they could simply find a new one next year, even if extraction proved more challenging .
Guided by Old Lameleg's insights, Michael foresaw an even greater crisis looming further ahead. In the previously hostile environment, expansion by any faction was limited and low-intensity. In such a wretched world, controlling more territory and people often meant a greater burden. Most, like Chakra and the late Andrew, would simply coast along once their own comfort was secured. But once it was confirmed that the environment was improving, ambitious individuals would hatch new plans. This implied a major reshuffling of power, where numerous small factions would vanish, and large regional powers would emerge. Without a doubt, Michael's Cinder Town would be seen as a choice piece of meat, a stepping stone for others to strengthen their own forces .
Michael was deeply troubled. Before this, the small-time salesman from the modern world had never aspired to become a powerful regional overlord in this world. Life was short—wasn't it enough to ensure a financially free and comfortable life? Why engage in constant strife, risking death at any moment? Yet, given the current circumstances, continuing his passive approach seemed likely to lead to his base being swallowed by others. His best outcome then would be reduced to a mere cross-dimensional profiteer. While the lucrative trade wasn't undesirable, a strong sense of unwilling to accept and a feeling of wrongness gnawed at him .
This inner turmoil persisted until Michael found himself outside the town's only "preschool." This so-called "preschool" had been established just over a week ago. The schoolhouse was a slightly better-built shack, and the students were the town's minors under ten years old, about forty boys and girls in total. The purpose was Michael's belief that it was better for the children to learn something useful than to spend their days fighting and causing trouble, so they could grow into more capable followers. The teacher was the poised woman,Moli. The textbooks Michael had brought, covering primary to high school levels, were easily mastered by her, making teaching effortless. Discipline was handled effectively by the children's parents, who, upon learning their offspring had the chance to study, respectfully inquired daily about their progress. Reports of misbehavior were met with stern punishment at home, ensuring perfect order in the preschool .
Now,Moli was leading the few dozen children in loudly reciting "a, o, e..." phonetics. Yes, you read correctly. Among the limited courses offered at the preschool was Mandarin Chinese. Even though many students were fair-haired and blue-eyed, or even half-breed children, Michael had insisted on this. He believed teaching them the excellent Chinese language was a privilege he was bestowing upon them.
Amidst the rising and falling chorus of recitation, Michael's mind inexplicably relaxed. He suddenly understood why he was so reluctant to settle for being a mere profiteer. When the nest is overturned, no egg remains intact. Without the protection of a powerful force, these people would likely perish before the world could become orderly. For these natives, with whom he had developed a bond, and for the home he had worked so hard to build, a surge of determination welled up within Michael. Why couldn't he orchestrate something grand and establish a force that would laugh last? Behind him stood a complete and powerful industrial civilization, after all .