Chapter 872: Luo You and the Twin Stars (6)

At this moment, in the deeper levels beneath Liuli City, within abandoned conduits that even the city maintenance system had almost forgotten, several figures were gathering in secret in the darkness.

Their numbers were few, and one of them had a symbol drawn in red mineral pigment on their arm.

A shattered planet, with an "S" drawn in the center.

"Has the message been spread?"

A low voice asked.

"A portion of it has. Grendel's orders have helped us a great deal; now, more and more people feel there is no way to survive."

Another voice replied.

"Very good. The appearance of the Liquidators will make them reach a decision faster. Be ready; the opportunity will come soon. The Star Alliance's attention is tied up by the war, and this is our chance. For freedom!"

"For freedom!"

Lia crumpled the rough slip of paper into a ball and gripped it tightly in her palm; her fingertips could clearly feel the texture of the paper and the scorching heat brought by those few lines of inflammatory text.

"Survivor"...

She did not want to invite trouble.

It was only through a lifetime of caution and a final, painful death that her father had managed to trade for this "decent" job in the Administration office that barely kept her fed.

Her daily work was processing numbers—extraction volumes, attrition rates, energy consumption, ration distribution... She knew very well how much blood, sweat, and death lay behind these numbers, but she forced herself not to think about it.

She was merely a gear in the system, turning, then wearing down, and eventually being replaced.

Thinking was dangerous, and resisting was nothing short of courting death.

That slip of paper, and the "Survivor" organization it represented, was the most dangerous flame.

She rushed to the miniature decomposition port for organic waste in the corner of the room, wanting to throw the paper ball inside.

As long as she let go, this tiny spark of danger would vanish, and she could continue to pretend she knew nothing and continue her life.

A twenty-percent increase in quotas?

Perhaps she could rely on the few Credit Points she had saved up to exchange for more high-energy compressed blocks to scrape by.

Liquidators? As long as she worked harder and was more obedient, perhaps she wouldn't be noticed...

Her hand stopped above the decomposition port, lingering without letting go.

Special Envoy Grendel's arrogant voice appeared in her mind once again.

"... will be treated as attrition and cleared immediately."

This was no longer a question of whether she could scrape by.

This was the system having already decided to accelerate their deaths.

Continuing to be obedient was merely choosing a slightly slower way to die.

Just then, a noisy sound suddenly came from the corridor outside, different from the usual footsteps and engine sounds of the Patrol Squad.

Scolding, crying, and also... the low-frequency charging sound of an Energy Weapon!

Lia's heart gave a jolt.

Something had happened!

Almost subconsciously, she stuffed the crumpled paper ball into the inner pocket of her uniform, then carefully crept to the door, pressed her ear against the metal, and held her breath to listen.

The sound came from the cross-corridor not far away, just outside the corridor of her living unit.

"... Orders are absolute! Any behavior that hinders production efficiency must be corrected immediately!"

An electronically synthesized voice rang out.

It was the Liquidators! Had they actually started acting so soon?

"My lord! Please! He is just a child! He was too hungry and only stole a pack of expired Nutrient Paste! Please, spare him this once!"

An old woman's tearful plea for mercy sounded outside.

"Expired rations are also Star Alliance property. Theft of Star Alliance property is considered sabotage of war resources. According to Article 7, Section 3 of the Wartime Control Regulations, immediate clearance is imposed."

The Liquidator's synthesized voice did not fluctuate in the slightest.

"No! Don't! I'll give you all my rations! I can work double! Please..."

"Zzz—hum!"

A short, sharp sound of energy discharge rang out, followed immediately by the dull thud of some heavy object hitting the ground, as well as the irrepressible gasps and cries of the surrounding crowd.

The old woman's wailing came to an abrupt halt.

The corridor fell silent, leaving only the faint "hissing" sound of the Energy Weapon cooling down.

Lia's blood felt as if it had frozen.

Her whole body was ice-cold; her fingers clawed at the door panel as she looked out through a tiny crack in the door.

Within her limited field of vision, she saw two Liquidators wearing pitch-black uniforms and full-coverage helmets standing there, the muzzle of the Energy Weapon mounted on one of their arms still emitting faint, acrid smoke.

At their feet lay two figures, one small and one large.

A thin, small boy, and the old woman who had just been begging bitterly.

Neither moved at all.

The lower-level residents who had been driven to watch were deathly silent, every face written with fear and shock.

For a pack of expired Nutrient Paste... they just... killed?

This was "immediate clearance"? This was "clearing attrition"?

Even the "Grey Dog" squad of soldiers responsible for maintaining order was stunned.

Their Captain, a middle-aged man with a scar on his face, moved his lips as if wanting to say something, but in the end, he only swallowed hard, gripped the Rifle in his hands, and looked away.

The young soldiers under his command had ragged breathing beneath their masks; some even subconsciously took half a step back.

The Liquidator's helmet turned toward the "Grey Dog" squad.

"Clear the scene. Send the 'attrition' to the recycling processing unit. Record event code: LC-734."

"……Yes, my lord."

The voice of the Greyhound Captain was dry and hoarse; he waved his hand, and two soldiers stiffly stepped forward, dragging the corpses on the ground away, leaving two blurred dark red trails on the floor.

The Liquidator did not look again, turned around, and left with a uniform pace, the sound of boots striking the floor echoing in the corridor.

The crowd in the corridor remained in Silence, people looking at the two drag marks on the ground, looking at those "Greyhound" soldiers who were also from the bottom but now appeared bewildered and at a loss, their eyes becoming complex.

That Greyhound Captain watched his subordinates drag away the corpses, then looked at the gazes cast by the surrounding residents; in those gazes, there was fear, hatred, and a trace of... contempt?

The muscles on his face twitched, and he suddenly cursed in a low voice; the sound was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the stillness.

"F***..."