Wasteland Echoer

Chapter 1 Awakening in pure darkness

"Are you willing to remain unknown for the rest of your life and then become silent?"

"You have desires, right?"

In the past few days, these demonic whispers in dreams have been lingering in Haibo's ears.

pain!

Tired, sad!

Haibo's whole body twitched inexplicably, as if he had touched a leaky wire.

"Still that dream? What's going on?!"

After the moderate shock, Haibo's consciousness was finally lifted from the state of being covered by gauze and gradually became clearer.

In a trance, he moved his body according to a familiar rhythm, preparing to pick up the clothes he threw on the ground last night and put them on.

But the strange thing is that no matter how he groped around on the ground with his eyes closed, he didn't catch anything!

"Weird! Did you drink too much last night? You don't know where you put your clothes. Oh, if I had known earlier, I would have paid more attention. You have to take care of your body."

Just as he was thinking this, Haibo opened his eyes, which were blurred by myopia, and fumbled around on a dark, obsidian-like short table.

Fortunately, the metal glasses are still there.

When he put on his glasses in a somewhat awkward way, what he saw was not the bright and white personal room that he had always seen, but a dark, full of clutter and cobwebs, similar to a Western-style attic storage room. place.

In addition to a bed and a short black mechanical table, there is a pile of silver-white and bronze-colored mechanical parts in the medium-sized room, which seems to be able to be assembled into a differential engine that was not mass-produced in the 19th century.

In addition, there was a semi-copper round fireplace covered in black dirt that looked like it was about to be scrapped.

The unburnt charcoal inside was emitting ghostly sparks outward.

"This is not my home! Where is it?"

Haibo shook his head vigorously, trying to get rid of the illusion left behind by the dream.

He supported his body with a dazed consciousness, and approached the dusty cloudy glass window. He opened the edge a little, hoping to let some air in, so as to relax his mood, and look outside.

The environment outside the window is mainly dark, like a cloudy sky. Looking upward from a distance, a black "velvet curtain" with some gaps exposed covers the entire sky.

The noisy roar of machinery was loud and ear-piercing just in the early morning. In the distance, a silver-white "big guy" long-armed machine was slowly starting up.

Downstairs not far in front of him was a garbage dump filled with industrial waste and civil decay.

Even from such a distance, Haibo could smell an unbearable sour smell.

The place was filled with filthy liquids and rotting food residue, and it seemed like no one was cleaning it regularly.

Staring at the fantasy, weird, and gloomy scene, Haibo unconsciously pinched his own throat, trying to relieve his nervousness.

Although I'm not sure if I'll be in danger, the place I'm in now is really weird!

The dim attic room, the roaring mechanical sound, the half-copper fireplace that is about to be scrapped, and, also, myself?

Calm down, you must calm down, no one is trying to kill me, calm down!

Haibo gasped for air, trying hard to suppress the itching sensation in his throat and trying not to make any noise.

In this strange place, the first thing is not to attract the attention of others. It is mentioned in the "Safety Code" written by an unknown person:

Stay calm when encountering the danger of suddenly entering an unfamiliar environment. Do not engage in abnormal behavior to attract the attention of others. Try to explore as much useful information as possible. Information is a necessary condition for your survival.

"The first problem that needs to be solved is" Haibo suddenly felt a heartbreaking pain coming from his brain, like being pried open by a metal object.

The next second, he blurted out unconsciously:

"who I am?"

Just as his mind was running rapidly, trying to find answers, a fragment of memory that did not belong to him gradually emerged in his mind.

He subconsciously looked at his silver-white guard uniform that was stained with some chemicals. With his right hand, he passed the iron "Long Sword and Hammer" medal on his chest and took out a similar identity card from his jacket pocket. Proof card.

It is square in shape and made of hard cardboard, with some ink that has been rubbed out on the surface.

The letters on it look like they were printed one by one on a mechanical manual typewriter.

Haibo had never learned the strange combination of words that looked like Latin, but the remaining scattered memory fragments made it possible for him to read without any obstacles!

"Japanese language?" Haibo murmured in a low voice:

"Lite Sugra. Released in 522 of the New Era, made by the Zine Empire."

This is the holy city of Sokra in the Zine Empire in the year 527 of the New Era! A city built in the wasteland!

In order to isolate the zombie-like "Heartless People" and the evolved and mutated "Lost Ones", the great humans built this huge shelter that is close to half of the small European country.

"So, I am Wright Sugra?" Haibo guessed in surprise.

Suddenly remembering something, he rushed towards the dusty iron mirror next to him.

After wiping it with the turbid storage water stained with gray-white substance in the basin, he finally saw "himself" in the mirror.

Black hair, black eyes, oval face, very thin.

It seems that this can no longer be called emaciation, it can simply be described as haggard. He looked like a migrant worker who had stayed up late for more than half a year. His eyes were bloodshot and there was no trace of human vitality.

But one thing is certain, the person in front of me is definitely not me, I have traveled through time!

And he replaced this man named Wright Sugra!

It was a little hard to accept for a while, so Haibo stumbled back onto the messy yellow bed, crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and tried to search for as much information about Wright Sugra as possible through meditation.

However, there seems to be some kind of force that limits his thinking. Once he tries to actively touch information other than identity and language, Haibo's brain will feel tingling and he will be unable to concentrate.

Fortunately, after a moment, Hai Bo suddenly felt as if an electric current was passing through his brain, and he seemed to remember something.

In a daze, he stumbled towards the dark mechanical short table again, which was divided into three levels: upper, middle and lower, looking for it eagerly.

"Yes, that's it!" Haibo said with a sigh of relief.

Guided by the memory fragments, he accurately grabbed a pistol lying on the messy tabletop where notebooks, pens, rags, tin cans and other daily necessities were piled.

Thirty centimeters in length, an old silver-white pistol with a double-headed eagle pattern engraved on its surface.

This seems to be the "Crazy Bear" pistol produced by the factory in Sugla City, right?

Also, underneath, is a note that has been rubbed many times and has strange cracks?

"We will all fall into darkness, and no one will be saved. Except, the red devil source"

The words above made Haibo puzzled. Dark? Redemption? There is also seemingly unfinished text. Is it the red magic source crystal or the magic source power?

"Magic power?" Haibo blurted out naturally, as if this word had been on his lips.

From the remaining memory fragments, he vaguely understood that this seemed to be some kind of magical power that was not mysterious.

With no other clue, Haibo could only look down at the inexplicably familiar "Bear Bear" pistol, which seemed to be the one commonly used by this man named Wright.

The surface of the pistol, especially the upper part, was covered with dirt, as if it had been through many arduous battles and had never had time to clean.

He stared at the pistol and almost lost consciousness until the heartbreaking pain in his chest brought him back to reality.

Immediately, he opened his collar and reached out to touch his chest, which was stained with traces of blood. A few centimeters from his heart, there was a circular wound the size of a coin.

Looking carefully, Haibo breathed a sigh of relief. The wound had mostly healed, and it was estimated that his life was not in danger.

Although there shouldn't be any more blood seeping out, a slight red viscous liquid still stained his fingertips under his firm pressure.

Fortunately it wasn't a lot of blood!

The memory fragment once again reminded Haibo that if he was stained with too much blood in this wasteland city, he would be directly executed as an "unintentional person" without leaving any room for mercy.

Looking at this "Crazy Bear" pistol, Haibo felt a chill in his back. He didn't know the cause of Wright's death. But what is worthy of recognition is that because of his sudden death, he was able to travel through time and replace Wright's position.

If it was suicide, it would be okay, which means that the danger Wright encountered may be due to his own problems such as excessive mental stress, and it may not necessarily be fatal. But if he kills him, things will be serious!

If you survive a catastrophe, you must have a finishing blow.

If the conclusion of homicide is true, the group of people who attacked Wright will definitely not give up. It may not be long before I have to bear another death for him.

information! information! Still information!

The first priority when coming to this unknown world is to obtain information. But apart from basic information such as "where is this", "when is it now" and "who am I", the information in front of me has no other value.

Let's try again and see if we can find anything from Wright's remaining memories!

Haibo thought carefully and calmed down.

The original owner of this body, Wright, was probably always at work, and his body exuded a slight smell of gasoline and rotten matter, but his clothes were still neat and clean.

The silver-white style top, paired with tactical trousers of similar material that were stained by mud and looked a bit gray and black, was pretty passable.

However, recalling his frightening and almost haggard appearance in the mirror just now, Haibo smiled bitterly and chose to leave the table and go aside to tidy up his appearance.

"Sure enough, it looks much more comfortable."

After washing thoroughly with the bucket of water stored in the dilapidated mahogany cabinet, Haibo took another look in the iron mirror, which was smeared with black substances and had cracks on the edges.

If this face wasn't so haggard, it must have some good looks. If placed in his original world, he might be able to charm people. But in this weird place, I'm afraid I don't value this.

"Information is still information. If the information is missing, you will be attacked again in broad daylight. This pistol used to fight the enemy should be able to defend yourself. If you collect information. If you meet someone who knows Wright, just chat with him first. If If you encounter danger...then you can only risk your life."

Haibo thought to himself, and put the "Crazy Bear" pistol on his waist in a less noticeable position. He looked around, and after repeatedly confirming that there was nothing suspicious, he swayed along and made a "squeaking" sound. , the dilapidated wooden stairs that seemed like they might collapse at any time led outside the house.

"This world is really fascinating and incredible."

Haibo secretly admired that the strange environment around him gave him an inexplicable sense of novelty. The time travel did not bring him any discomfort. On the contrary, he enjoyed this "feeling of adventure" very much.

The urge to take risks and explore new things seems to be engraved in his genes, even without the influence of Wright's memory.

Through the glass cover with a bit of gray fog, Haibo's black and gray mechanical watch told him that the current time was only 8 o'clock in the morning.

Usually during this time, the pitch-black dome shrouding the sky would block most of the sunlight, plunging the entire city into frightening darkness.

Accompanied by the noisy sound of machinery running, the huge chimney of the "Mechanical Yuan" factory, a landmark building in the "Sogra Machinery Zone" that can be vaguely seen in the distance, has begun work.

The billowing smoke poured out, providing some rare whiteness in the dark field.

Harsh roars followed, and Haibo looked up. A huge airship similar to the one popular during World War I was slowly rising into the sky not far away, like a ferocious beast roaring in the long night, waiting for the dim dome to open to break through. Shackles, flying towards the bright sky.

After stumbling a few steps tiredly with a hangover, an eye-catching sign appeared among the rows of low-rise buildings on his right.

Looking up, its base is painted with white paint, and the surface is printed with the standard black Zine Empire language: "Suchla Grocery Store Z District Branch".

In the impression, Wright, the owner of this body, has passed by the small shop where the signboard is located many times. The main goods sold... seem to be only a limited number of types, including kerosene lamps.

Moreover, this small shop was not far from the dilapidated three-story house he rented, separated by a foul-smelling sewage channel.

Memory fragments suggest that this city does not seem to have a complete power network. The existence of small shops is enough to show that urban residents still need fuel for daily lighting.

"Hey, isn't this Wright? How is your health? Remember that you went to the outer suburbs of Sogra this time, uh, the mission in the outer area should have been completed well. I heard that you encountered a powerful Lost One, and it is not easy to come back alive. .

Boy, I guess those Socratic committees who are unwilling to pay will definitely benefit from you this time. "

A lean and frail man greeted Haibo cheerfully. He was Ward, the owner of the small shop. He had black hair and brown eyes, and looked like an extremely ordinary middle-aged uncle.

Since Wright's basic behavioral memory was still there, Haibo answered naturally in his tone and accent:

"Yeah, it should be done pretty well. After all, I survived."

So, could it be that the owner of my body committed suicide due to mental pollution after performing a mission? If this inference is true, my situation should not be as bad as imagined.

Haibo was prevaricating, but he didn't want to end the conversation immediately. After all, chatting with the boss Ward could provide him with a lot of useful information.

"Fortunately, the Goddess of Light protects you. I think you are the only human being in the city who believes in Him. The war has lasted for more than five hundred years, and now humans all believe in the Lord of Darkness. After all, relying on the big black cover, we Only then can we live safely." Ward chatted with him while busy assembling the kerosene lamp in his hand.

"Big cover?" Haibo asked subconsciously.

Immediately afterwards, he realized that he had made a mistake and quickly looked away, pretending to be nonchalant to relieve possible embarrassment.

"I think you must have lacked sleep, Wright. All this history has been spread all over the Holy City of Socrates. If you were a student, I would despise you. You are still the same as before, knowing nothing about history." Ward laughed and teased:

"You should really go and make up for your lessons. Mr. George is waiting for you in the city library. It's still the same rule as before. You don't need to make any preparations. Oh, by the way, take this with you. After all, he is the one who recommended you to enter. He’s from the Sugra Guards, so it’s a favor to give him some gifts.”

Ward said, and took out a gift box from a pile of damaged kerosene lamps. Like the surrounding environment, it was pure black, but in the center was carved something unknown, two yellow-brown figures spliced together. Metal gears.

This seems... to be a cultural imprint passed down from the Zine Empire where Haibo lives.

"Here, Wright. By the way, ask Mr. George for a book, the one about the history of Socrates. The older generation often said: It is not enough to know and understand the present. History will teach us lessons. Okay, hurry up Click on it. Don’t forget, book!” Ward ordered.

After briefly thanking Ward, he groped towards the direction of the Sogra City Library that was vague in the memory fragments.

Suddenly, a gap opened in the sky above the huge and pitch-black dome, and a white, veil-like holy light shone on Haibo.

He took this opportunity to open his shirt and rub his aching chest. The totem-like wounds there seemed to have not fully grown yet.

Black dust mixed with scarlet blood stained his fingers. It seemed that the city wrapped in a dome would have the same tone.

Dream talk new 3

I woke up from a long sleep

Observe the dark dome

The dilapidated ruins exude a strange smell

The narrow eaves cannot accommodate the huge body

The roaring machinery is spreading its wings and soaring

Sleeping ancient gods whisper in dreams

At the great call of Socrates