Chapter 114: A Solid, Grounded Sense of Security in the Pouring Rain
Early morning.
Seed City awoke beneath bruised, heavy storm clouds.
Today, the residential district was markedly subdued compared to the days prior.
Waking from their beds, the townsfolk made their way to the central plaza out of ingrained habit.
Such was the protocol of the Rainy Season.
The crowd looked entirely different from usual; every single person was clad in rain gear.
Long, hooded smocks draped over their frames, each piece telling its own tale under closer inspection.
A few wore relatively fresh raincoats, while most donned battered, weathered oilskins patched with strips of bicycle tire rubber or sealed with sticky waterproof adhesive.
Cuffs and hems were cinched tightly around wrists and ankles, far more meticulously bound than during standard scavenging sorties beyond the ramparts.
The downpour had not yet broken, but a suffocating gloom already hung thick over the crowd.
—The citizens had gathered at the plaza to hear the city guards read the mandatory conscription roster for the Rainy Season.
Much like the labor levies of the Black Fields, the Rainy Season conscription was an unavoidable duty for every soul scraping by in the border outpost.
Anyone above the age of fourteen was subject to the draft.
To evade was treason.
Few had found restful sleep the night before.
Huddled beneath rain hoods, most wore faces wrought with quiet dread.
Some stared up into the overcast sky, their chests tight with anticipation.
Others muttered hurried, unbroken mantras beneath their breath—praying fervently to whatever gods remained that their names would not be assigned beyond the perimeter.
Duties within and outside the walls carried vastly different fates.
Without the intervention of elite Awakener strike teams from the metropolitan centers to sanitize the perimeter, staying sheltered behind the stone parapets was, without question, the only way to live a little longer.
A handful maintained a sliver of optimism, murmuring with neighbors about what delicacies they intended to purchase at the Chinese Restaurant once their shifts rotated.
Unfortunately, after so many long years of apocalyptic misery, an excess of hope was not a luxury granted to everyone.
A sharp blast of a whistle pierced the heavy air, followed by a guard’s metallic voice booming over the public address horn.
“The conscription roster for the incoming seven-day rotation is as follows: Interior Wall Division, July 19th, First Shift…”
Name after name echoed across the stone pavers. Those whose names were called felt their hearts lurch into their throats, followed immediately by an overwhelming wave of relief.
Thank goodness. Thank the heavens it’s interior.
Before long, the guard had reached the roster for the seventh day of the interior detail.
As the final syllable faded, the color drained from the faces of everyone whose names had not been read.
To be omitted from the interior ledger meant one terrifying certainty: their names were bound for the exterior defense lines.
Yet once the guard finished reading the names, he continued, “This concludes the muster roster for the next seven days. All personnel whose names were read must report one hour prior to shift onset to requisition protective gear and ordnance. Tardiness, dereliction, or unexcused absence will be dealt with severely…”
The broadcast crackled faintly through the speaker horns, slightly distorted.
The contents, however, left the crowd utterly bewildered.
No roster for the exterior wall?
Only interior assignments… divided across three shifts?
That meant an eight-hour shift per person, complete with an official meal distribution from the administration?
Before the crowd could process the shock, the guard’s voice echoed through the horn once more: “Throughout the duration of the Rainy Season, passage through the West Gate to the Chinese Restaurant will remain open. The garrison will commit its full strength to securing the route.”
“This concludes the morning briefing. Personnel assigned to the First Shift on the 19th, report for gear distribution. All others, dismissed.”
…That’s it? It’s really over?
No conscription for the outer ramparts?!
A sea of stunned faces stared back in disbelief.
Then, a sudden surge of joy erupted as the guard’s parting words sank in—the administration is actively deploying security to protect the path to the Chinese Restaurant during the monsoon!
—In past rainy seasons, the gates hadn’t been fully sealed; passage was technically permitted.
Yet once the seasonal rains fell, the power of mutant horrors beyond the stone rose to terrifying heights. Safe, familiar hunting grounds turned into charnel pits in the blink of an eye.
Even during ordinary days, venturing into the wastes meant gambling with one’s life. Once the downpour began, seasonal beast surges hurled themselves directly against the stone bulwarks.
The buffer zones ceased to offer any semblance of safety.
Virtually no one dared forfeit the sanctuary of the stone walls under such conditions.
Yet now… a bastion of absolute, inviolable safety stood beyond the West Gate.
And the path connecting the city to the Chinese Restaurant would be actively shielded by the garrison itself.
It was a blessing beyond their wildest, most desperate dreams.
This Rainy Season… might not be an absolute death sentence after all?
A crowd rushed to the bulletin board to verify the posted roster with their own eyes.
The stamped parchment laid it all out with absolute clarity, matching the guard’s proclamation word for word.
Only then did the suffocating knot in their chests finally loosen.
“Qiu Jie, head over and collect your gear,” Long Qian said. “We’ll head to the Chinese Restaurant first and bring some food over for you once we’ve bought it.”
Among their company, only Geri and Long Ya had been spared from the roster.
It seemed the administration had deliberately excluded those who had recently completed hard labor in the Black Fields when drafting the names.
The duty days for the remaining four were staggered across the week; Qiu Jie happened to be called up first, assigned to the opening morning shift.
“Understood,” Qiu Jie nodded. “Sounds like roll call is starting over there. I’ll get in line.”
“Go on.”
Long Qian and the rest bade farewell to Qiu Jie and turned their steps toward the West Gate.
Long Ya frowned, thoroughly perplexed. “Why wasn’t there a single levy for the outer wall this time?”
Long Shi drawled lazily, “What, you’re itching to enlist as a frontline grunt on the ramparts?”
Long Ya offered no reply, merely driving the toe of her boot sharply into Long Shi’s shin.
“Skipping the exterior levy means the administration has real confidence in repelling this season’s beast surge,” Long Qian said thoughtfully.
“Because of the Awakeners?”
“Perhaps.”
Conversing in hushed tones, they fell in line with the stream of citizens filtering out through the West Gate.
The moment they cleared the heavy threshold of the portal, they were greeted by the sight of guards lined up in full battle order outside the perimeter.
Beyond the detail tasked with patrolling the road to the Chinese Restaurant, ranks of heavily armed sentries stood watch beneath the exterior walls.
The force deployed was several times larger than a typical patrol detail.
Long Shi’s sharp eyes caught a familiar silhouette standing among the ranks.
“Kindred spirit!”
“Soul brother!”
“What are you doing out here?” Long Shi called out, hailing Hall at the gate.
“Stationed on wall-defense duty! You heading out?”
“Yep, off to the Chinese Restaurant!”
“Get moving then! I can’t head over until my shift rotates!”
“Right, right, won’t keep you from your duty. Hang in there!”
“You know it!”
Long Ya and the others watched the two men conduct an entirely pointless, enthusiastic exchange of pleasantries.
Once they had put some distance between themselves and the gate, Long Qian asked, “From Dark Star?”
“Yeah, Hall from Dark Star. You probably caught a glimpse of him when we visited their lodge to ask about the awakenings.”
Geri’s brow furrowed in sheer confusion. “You two know each other? Since when?”
“Last night. We got assigned to the same sandbag-hauling team.”
“…You hauled sandbags together for two hours, and suddenly you’re lifelong confidants?”
“What kind of logic is that? True friendship doesn’t care about how many minutes have passed!”
Long Qian cast a glance over her shoulder.
Aside from that boy Hall, several other Dark Star operatives were posted near the gate.
Their kit was distinctly different from the standard issue worn by the city guards.
It seemed the authorities were indeed leaning on the newly awakened operatives from both Dark Star and the Red Flag Society to bolster the defense line.
Yet the seasonal beast surges were savage and merciless. Could a handful of newly awakened operatives truly hold the line against a mutant wave that hadn’t been thinned out in advance?
For reasons she couldn’t entirely articulate, she harbored a suspicion… that the administration’s decision to scrap the civilian levy on the outer ramparts rested on a completely different trump card.
…
“It’s raining!”
Along the gravel road leading to the Chinese Restaurant, a fat raindrop came down with a wet smack.
It struck the canvas hood of a traveler’s coat.
Then came another.
Pitter-patter—
More droplets pelted the ground in rapid succession.
Within moments, the scattered drops merged into a driving downpour.
The sky was already bruised and sullen, and as the sheets of rain fell, a veil of pale mist began to blur the far horizon.
Hardly anyone had ever ventured beyond the shelter of the stone during the Rainy Season. Even with armed guards posted every dozen paces along the road, an underlying tremor of anxiety gripped the travelers’ chests.
Every sense was tuned to the surrounding wilderness, twitching at every shadow.
That hollow thump-thump-thump—was that just the rain thrashing the undergrowth… Hm? Did the surrounding vegetation look suspiciously sparse today?
Never mind, never mind. Now was hardly the time to ponder the landscape.
The travelers dared not linger, picking up their pace in a brisk sprint toward the silhouette of the Chinese Restaurant.
Until they broke through the curtain of mist and stepped into the perimeter of pure white light.
“…Is this still the Chinese Restaurant? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?”
“Holy hell… After putting up a two-story pavilion overnight, the boss went and built two brand-new storefronts in a single evening!”
“Look at all these rain canopies! I was genuinely worried we’d have to huddle in the downpour today, but the boss thought through everything ahead of us.”
“There’s even a shelter set up over the exchange terminal!”
Back in the plaza, the news had been met with surprise.
Here at the threshold of the Chinese Restaurant, the transformation struck the travelers with sheer, staggering awe.
Wait… how did this place undergo yet another massive overhaul in the span of a single night?!
The original two-story timber structure had evolved, flanked on both sides by single-story wings.
Crisply carved plaques hung above the new entrances, clearly denoting their respective offerings.
The benches arrayed outside the entrance had expanded again, linked beneath the expansive awnings into a sprawling, covered pavilion.
Rumble—!
The sky darkened rapidly as the downpour thickened, split by a searing streak of violet lightning arcing through the heavy cloudbanks.
The temperature plummeted; the raw stench of saturated mud filled the air, and the murky, obscured wastes beyond felt pregnant with unspoken peril.
Yet here, within the boundary of white light—
The warm aroma of roasted tubers, the savory tang of spicy hotpot broth, and… was that the rich, intoxicating fragrance of simmering meat stew?
Warm light spilled from beneath the broad pale canopies, melding with the glow radiating from the restaurant’s windows—offering, amidst the raging downpour, a solid, grounded sense of security.
