Wasteland Echoer

Just when Wright was thinking about whether to go, his left hand unconsciously touched the small package that Brett had just given him.

Immediately afterwards, a tingling sensation like electricity reached his fingertips, making his arm feel numb.

"It hurts! Oh, by the way, why did you forget this?"

Wright awkwardly pulled the trouser pocket to the right with his right hand. Since his left hand was still a little numb, he simply used his right hand to gently open a corner of the package and lifted it out.

This is what Brett gave me just now. If I remember correctly, he gave it to me directly without explaining anything.

This is a bit troublesome. If I were to study this little thing now, I would have to go to the place indicated on the postcard later, but if I were to go to the so-called "answer" place now, I wouldn't be sure who I would meet, and I wouldn't be sure if there would be any danger.

Moreover, the "examination questions" in the previous package seemed to have been given to me by General George. If this package is a continuation of the previous package, could it be that George wanted to tell me something, but due to his identity and status, he could only pass it through? This kind of private meeting?

But it’s also possible that he didn’t meet me directly. If he met me through an agent, what exactly was he going to tell me?

"We know that you are looking for some kind of magical power, and the messenger of the gods will give you the answer." Wright picked up the postcard and read the last sentence of the text again.

"Magic power? Sequential gods? Messengers? What is the connection between these three pieces of information? Or is it the gods who created the magic? Or is it related to the desperate note I saw when I traveled here? The power of the red magic source?"

Wright suddenly felt that his brain was filled with all kinds of disorganized information, and he did not have the ability to combine them all, or to deduce anything based on this information.

After all, there are only a few messy fragments of Wright's memory at this time. If you include the destruction of the ritual mentioned by the lost man Yatuo, it must be difficult for his memory to be pieced together completely.

At this moment, Wright is just a combination with a skin and a soul that has been replaced. There is only a small amount of indescribable existence in the part of his consciousness that belongs to Wright, and the other parts are all travelers from another world.

He is just a mortal struggling to survive in the wasteland, so he needs information to understand the world!

"Yes, information! Since I can't put them together myself, then I can only trust the people who sent me postcards. Maybe they will be friends."

After making up his mind, Wright no longer felt entangled.

He took off all the guard uniforms he was wearing and rummaged for a long time in the old gray box where his daily clothes were stored, and finally found a set of clothes that seemed decent.

The upper body is a black sweater and a leather jacket, and the lower body is a pair of cheap jeans.

Although I don’t know if it matches with the mainstream aesthetics in the city of Sogra, at least it is the only piece of clothing left that looks undamaged and looks like it was from the past.

After finishing sorting, Wright carefully placed the postcard in his hand in a compartment in the inner pocket of his coat. By the way, he also put the one hundred yuan worth of new coins in his pants pocket.

Immediately afterwards, he opened the drawer in the middle of the dark table, gently put the package that had just "shocked" him inside, locked the old wooden door, and strode out.

After strenuously crossing the stinky ditch at the door that had flowed all year round and had not been cleaned by anyone, Wright began to walk quickly along the route he remembered.

Unlike the imperial cities before the New Era such as Zhenetsk and Kusha, the city of Sokra followed the principle of "keeping points but not lines and surfaces" from the early days of its construction, especially as the capital of the Zine Empire. , the entire empire invested great energy in its construction.

In Wright's broken memory, he vaguely remembered reading some information about city construction.

The city was initially chosen at the confluence of the two main rivers of the Zine Empire, the Ruin River and the relatively short Mamous River.

Because it is close to converging into the huge "central lake", the width of the rivers around the city of Sugra can basically reach one kilometer. There is an advantage to building at the intersection, that is, it is surrounded by water on three sides, and only one side leads to the land.

If the Lost Ones attack Socra from land, as long as they defend one direction leading to the land and transport supplies by water, then there will be no problem in defending the city for a thousand years.

If there is a hostile human force attacking from the waterway, let alone the high-level mechanical technology of Socra City, as long as the water surface is blocked with iron chains alone, coupled with the attack of "Sun Nirvana", those ships will have no choice but to go without return.

Moreover, the city of Socra is divided into several main areas. The residential area is the largest area, accounting for almost 40%. Some areas are distinguished by the 26 letters a-z in the common language of the West Continent. The closer to a, the more noble the people who live in the area, and the closer to z, the poorer.

The other part names the blocks with certain intentions, such as "storm", "rose", "beast" and other simple words. This area prefers to mix commercial areas and residential areas. However, commerce in the wasteland may not necessarily be of practical use.

In addition, the city of Socra also has a military district used for military affairs, a mechanical district used for construction, and an administrative district used for the offices of the Socra committee.

However, for Wright, who had just entered Sokra from the outer area, those places were like sacred temples where gods lived, just out of reach!

Socra's dome is closed all year round and generally cannot block out all sunlight, but even in the summer day, the entire city seems to be covered with a layer of black veil, and not much light can be seen.

Especially now that it is approaching February of the New Lunar Calendar, the coldest days of winter, even though most of the snow does not fall into the city, the sun does not get in at all.

As he walked quickly along the dim streets, the closer he got to the core of the slum, the more he felt a stench lingering in his nose, which lingered. There are no complete and strict sewer projects in the slums of the city of Socra. Apart from those open ditches, the waste is dumped directly on the ground.

If a city wants to feed so many low-value people, it must cost money. Survival in the wasteland depends on cost-effectiveness.

Due to the dim environment in winter and the fact that most people in the slums are struggling on the edge of life and death, they have no ability to shout. In addition to selling cheap food for survival and daily necessities that can be found everywhere, those street shops don't need to provide anything else.

Walking through the streets as silent as the dark sea, even Wright, a veteran guard member, felt a cold that penetrated into his bones.

There are not even many thieves and robbers here. No one will risk violating the order to get the "properties" of the poor. The urban security team under the Socra Committee can usually catch the criminals.

After walking towards the "storm" area for almost an hour, the environment around Wright became slightly better.

The shouts of market vendors, the roar of mechanical vehicles, the joyful laughter of children, and the shouts of the patrol members on patrol gradually became more numerous.

When he arrived near a fountain at the intersection of the neighborhood, Wright even saw a bard who didn't know where he came from and was being surrounded by the surrounding residents. There were richly dressed ladies, malnourished children, and some workers in dirty clothes who had just come out of the machinery factory.

"This man sings really well. I haven't heard such passionate music in a long time."

"That sounds good, that sounds good. Can I give you a bouquet of flowers?"

"One more section, one more section, I'm rich, I'll pay!"

"Yes, yes. I heard that I am very motivated and want to fight with the unintentional people outside."

"Then you go!"...

The various comments made Wright stop in his tracks, and he couldn't restrain his curiosity and looked inside from the outside.

The bard was holding an accordion and sang another song amidst the cheers of the surrounding audience. His clothes are very simple, but the gray-yellow style and a round hat don't seem to be the mainstream style in the city of Sogra.

There was a copper-colored shelf with music sheets in front of him, but other than that, he didn't make any deeper impression on Wright.

"It's more important to find No. C-404 in the 'Storm' neighborhood. Humans have to be more realistic. We can't always be addicted to music in the wasteland." Wright muttered.

Immediately afterwards, he took out the postcard from his jacket pocket and confirmed the address again.

The streets of the Storm District are not difficult to find. It is on the right hand side of the fountain where the minstrel is, and No. C-404 is between five and six-story high-rise buildings. It is a street-facing shop.

It seems that like the shop outside the three-story house where Wright lived, this shop mainly sells kerosene lamps. Although the sign at the door read "Machinery Materials Trading Department" in Zine Empire language, except for the kerosene lamp, Wright saw nothing when he entered.

Just as Wright looked around, trying to find the owner of the shop, a desolate and ancient voice, as if scorched by the hot sun, came from behind him:

"Are you...a guest?"

"Oh, yes, I'm here to find someone." Wright responded politely.

Immediately afterwards, two dark yellow objects slowly floated past the dim store environment, jumping up and down with dull footsteps and arrived in front of Wright.

It was two kerosene lamps and an old man with a haggard face.

His name was Wood. He was about sixty or seventy years old. There were not a few white hairs left on his smooth head. His rickety body rubbed against Wright's body and moved slowly towards the back door of the store.

He didn't ask who Wright was, nor did he pay too much attention to Wright's appearance.

After all, anyone who can find this place must be attracted by mystery or magic.

Not long after, a dull creaking sound flashed by, and an old voice came out of the shop again:

"Come... to the back door, someone... wants to talk to you in detail."

Behind the door is a fairly spacious space, which is different from the furnishings outside. It is filled with all kinds of things that are not mechanical.

There were two bookshelves on the left and right of the fairly bright room, and the books on them were titled in words he couldn't understand. There was a long wooden table in the center of the room, but the crystal ball in the center, the cards scattered around the table for unknown purposes, and the stars and moon metal pieces hanging from the top caught Wright's attention.

Not long after, a woman wearing a pointed hat, a graceful figure, an unnaturally white face, and a purple dress came over.

Her eyes were sharp and she said with an inexplicable and strange smile:

"The divination of our Tenyin sect has revealed that you are the confused [Order]. I can guess your identity without any introduction. You have a strong scent of Inochihua. If you smell it carefully, you can still feel it. Something of this world. But you have something else that fascinates me. Do you want to know what it is?"

"Yes, what?" Wright asked in a low voice.

"The power of magic, the power created by gods."

"Magic source power???"