Chapter 720.1: Plans Can Never Keep Up With Changes

In the Presidential Office on North Island, the sky outside the windows had already begun taking on a dim yellow hue.

Standing before his desk, Mengo did not look at the map hanging on the wall. Instead, he stared at the declaration resting atop the desk, a booklet barely a finger thick.

More accurately, he stared at a constitution. Four months ago, they had pledged loyalty to Shelter 70. Now, they pledged loyalty only to this constitution jointly signed by everyone.

Truthfully, had the damned war never happened, it would not necessarily have been a bad thing for the residents of Shelter 70. Although they lost the absolute authority inherited from their forefathers, they also shed the endless responsibilities imposed upon them by ancient oaths.

From now on, there would no longer be any distinction between the bluecoats and ordinary survivors. Whether former residents of Shelter 70 or island inhabitants, everyone would now bear shared duties and responsibilities as citizens of the Federation.

No one would ever again blame the bluecoats because they slipped on the road to work and assumed the bluecoats had built the road crookedly.

The concept of bluecoats no longer existed. Everyone now had to take responsibility for the road beneath their own feet. Everyone had to carefully choose their own future.

Truthfully, they should have done this long ago. For an entire century, everyone had received the same education.

Perhaps the first generation of shelter residents had once possessed advantages in knowledge and experience over wastelanders who had struggled outside for a century, but by the fourth and fifth generations, they were fundamentally the same kind of people.

However, ideals and reality always differed.

Mengo had anticipated that the path ahead would be difficult. What he had not expected was that one momentary lapse would hurl them into an abyss beyond redemption.

It really had happened in the blink of an eye; a perfect excuse for them to go to war.

As victims, they would occupy the unquestionable moral high ground, bypassing years of endless arguments that might never have reached any conclusion. With that perfect opportunity, conservatives and radicals could instantly cast aside their differences and unite.

The Federation, which had already been one step away from completion, could suddenly materialize with a snap. He didn’t need to do anything at all!

All he needed to do was to overlook the truth for two seconds at the exact moment he should have questioned it, allowing the radicals clamoring for war to fan the flames even higher.

After all, the power station had already been destroyed, why not make something meaningful out of its ruins? So what if they simply pretended Shelter 70 had done it? After all, if the truth turned out to be some reckless act committed by an overzealous soldier or officer, the survivors’ enthusiasm for establishing a new government would undoubtedly plummet, rendering countless efforts meaningless.

Once the war ended, if the residents of Shelter 70 were willing to open their doors and cooperate with investigations, they could always clear their names and punish the real culprits later.

He had to admit, at the time... that really had been what he thought. And now, all he felt was regret.

Footsteps echoed through the corridor outside the office.

There was more than one person.

Mengo shifted his gaze away from the constitution bearing countless signatures and looked toward the office door.

His Chief-of-Staff, Chalas, stood there. Behind him stood two soldiers clad in silver-white exoskeleton armor.

“Mr. President, I heard you were looking for me?” Without the slightest trace of remorse on his face, Chalas walked into the office smiling.

Mengo stared directly into his eyes before finally speaking after a long silence. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

“I...” Facing those upright, unwavering eyes, Chalas momentarily found himself speechless. Then suddenly, he burst into loud laughter.

“What do I have to say? I have nothing to say at all. Actually, that question should be mine, President Mengo. What do you still have to say?”

Watching Chalas laugh wildly, Mengo replied calmly, “You violated the declaration we all signed together. You betrayed not only me, but everyone.”

“Effective immediately, you are relieved of your duties as the Naval Head Advisor. You are also no longer my Chief-of-Staff...”

“Is that all?” Chalas shrugged indifferently. “Isn’t it a little too late for that?”

Mengo stared directly into his eyes. “The fate of the survivors of the South Archipelago Federation should be decided by all survivors together. Not by Shelter 70, and not by you or me.”

Meeting the President’s gaze without flinching, Chalas’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “You are too naive. This war has lasted four months. If the citizens of the Federation discover that the entire thing was built on a lie, the Federation will collapse instantly!”

“The same people who invited us into this building will drag us out of it themselves.”

A trace of sorrow entered Mengo’s eyes. “You call that being naive?”

Chalas’s gaze gradually turned cold. “Yes. That’s exactly what I call it. And I believe you will drag us into irreversible ruin.”

“We’ve always lived in the wasteland. Some idiots think the wasteland ended for us already, but the truth is we’ve never left this damned wasteland for even a single second, not once!”

“Across the sea are hyenas that devour people whole! If we approached them with your naive ideals, bound by rules and morality we imposed upon ourselves, we would be eaten alive until nothing remained! All of us would!”

His voice grew louder and louder, facial muscles twisting as a hysterical madness unconsciously seeped into his roar.

Yet moments later, he suddenly calmed again. Taking a deep breath, he slowly continued, “The survivors of the southern seas do not need a President. They can talk about that after the wasteland era ends.”

“When that day comes, if they want ten presidents, I’ll gladly give them ten. But right now, they need a stronger leader with greater vision, ability, and responsibility to guide them forward.”

“That’s what I believe, and that’s what the people supporting me believe.”

At that point, disappointment suddenly surfaced in Chalas’s eyes as well. He looked at the old friend who had once trusted him absolutely with a look of disappointment flashing in his eyes. “... You actually still had a chance. If, several hours ago, you had sent someone to shoot me instead of summoning me here, things never would’ve reached this point.”

“That would only have dragged us into a different kind of hell. It wouldn’t solve anything...” Mengo shook his head.

When he looked at Chalas, his once closest friend, a trace of pleading suddenly appeared in his eyes. “We already made one mistake. There won’t be a second chance. Stop now... my friend.”

The disappointment in Chalas’s gaze gradually vanished. For some reason, he no longer even cared enough to feel disappointed, only bored. He had expected Mengo to struggle. Instead, after waiting all this time, all he got was begging.

Pathetic.

Perhaps Arzu had been right after all. There was no need for subtlety with sheep like these. All he needed to do was act slightly more ruthless than they were, and they would follow wherever he led.

Casting one final glance of pity at the miserable middle-aged man, Chalas took the pistol handed to him by the nearby soldier and smoothly chambered a round.

“It’s too late. My supporters have already entrusted their lives and futures to me. Praise their loyalty for I’ve won this gamble. The result is, I won an overwhelming victory. I will continue leading them forward until the wasteland era itself comes to an end.

“As for you... take that declaration with you to hell and regret it there.”

“Farewell.”

...

Bang!

A sudden gunshot shattered the silence aboard the destroyer, Glory. The flash of gunfire reverberated through the corridor, causing the bulkhead doors on both sides to hum violently.

27 sailors suddenly turned on their commanding officers, and in an instant, they captured seven logistics personnel and, under Captain Surrey’s command, rapidly seized the compartments and stairwells near the broadcast room before exchanging fire with sailors rushing to respond.

Both sides occupied opposite ends of the corridor, using doors and adjacent compartments as cover while pouring gunfire into one another.

The corridor erupted with sparks from ricocheting bullets and deafening gunfire.

“Stop! You people... are you fucking insane?! AHHH!” The executive officer collapsed in pain after taking a bullet to the arm, dragged back behind cover by nearby sailors.

Staring at the bullets streaking across the corridor and the flashes erupting from the opposite side, his widened eyes filled with disbelief.

That was a mutiny! He had never imagined such a thing would happen aboard his ship.

“The insane ones are you and the captain!” While changing rifle magazines, the sailor crouched opposite him roared furiously. “Why didn’t you obey Mr. Chalas’ orders?!”

“Chalas...” The executive officer closed his eyes painfully, seemingly regretting the trust he once placed in that man before shouting desperately toward his former subordinate. “What exactly did that bastard promise you?!”

Without the slightest hesitation, the sailor roared back, “A greater Federation!”

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