Chapter 24: What Is a Surprise? This Is a Surprise!

The next day, Emerych entrusted Kris to Alvin and went out to work alone.

According to him, today he was going to haul corpses to the tavern—a job he did once a week in exchange for one energy bar.

The energy bars barely kept the siblings from starving, but they would never be full.

At dusk, Emerych limped back from the alleyway, clutching two energy bars; though badly beaten, his face still wore a happy smile.

The boy timidly offered one of the energy bars: “Mr. Alvin, if you don’t mind, you can eat some of this.”

Seeing the boy’s bruised and swollen face, his filthy body yet carefully washed hands gripping the cheap energy bar, Alvin fell silent for a moment, then took it: “Thank you.”

Seeing that the other accepted the energy bar, Emerych smiled happily.

“You... and your sister—how old are you this year?” Alvin broke the silence, biting into the energy bar.

“I’m twelve, my sister is eight.”

Emerych broke the energy bar in two—one long piece, one short—and handed the longer piece to his sister, ruffling her hair: “Eat up, Kris.”

Kris obediently took the energy bar, still silent, swallowing it in large bites.

“She... can’t speak?” Alvin asked, curious. During the day, Kris had curled up in the corner, stealing glances at him, but never answered any question.

“Yes. When I found her, she couldn’t speak.” Emerych touched his dull yellow hair.

“Found her? You’re not biological siblings?”

Now it was Alvin’s turn to be stunned.

“Heh, no, not really, Mr. Alvin.”

Emerych shyly rubbed his nose, gazing fondly at Kris as he softly recounted the story.

In truth, Emerych and Kris had no blood relation.

In the winter when Emerych was eight, a gang war erupted in the Lower Nest, and scavengers became the most sought-after “commodities,” shipped off in carts to warring gangs.

As for what corpses were used for, Emerych had seen it long ago.

Back then, having starved for eight full days, Emerych could no longer bear it—he had to go out and find food.

Otherwise, the freezing winter and hunger together would kill him.

Emerych risked entering the industrial zone, hoping to scavenge something valuable to trade for enough supplies to fill his stomach.

If he was lucky, he might even find two pieces of clothing.

The clothes on the eight-year-old Emerych were old rags he’d picked up years ago, now nearly rotted through, offering no protection against the winter’s biting cold.

“I remember clearly—I searched for a long time, from dawn till nightfall,” Emerych lowered his head, stroking the beloved sister in his arms, a warm smile on his face: “Then suddenly, I heard a baby crying—I found Kris there.”

“She was so small, curled up in the snow, her whole face frozen blue.”

“That winter, many froze to death. Logically, a baby couldn’t survive—but Kris was incredibly strong. She lived.”

“I believe this was a miracle granted by the Divine Emperor!”

Emerych gently hugged Kris, his face beaming as he scratched his head: “Mr. Alvin, am I talking too much? Sorry—I just suddenly... felt like sharing.”

“No, you’re great, Emerych.”

After hearing the siblings’ story, Alvin genuinely felt admiration.

An eight-year-old boy, raising a child with no blood tie, surviving eight years in the Lower Nest—how many hardships had he endured?

“Heh, it wasn’t that bad, Mr. Alvin,” Emerych, flattered, shyly rubbed his nose: “I just feel that Kris surviving was the Divine Emperor’s blessing—a gift bestowed upon me.”

That night, Emerych spoke much—about himself and his sister.

It was clear he adored his sister, and constantly spoke of the Divine Emperor.

Deep into the night, Emerych hugged his sister, curled up in the alley corner, covered with several sheets of cardboard, sinking into deep sleep.

In their dreams, the siblings clung to each other, lips slightly upturned—as if they’d had a sweet dream.

Alvin, curled up against the wall, felt he’d overlooked something—but couldn’t recall what.

Whatever. It probably wasn’t important.

He drifted into sleep.

In the depths of his mind, he seemed to see again that pale, cold sun.

“8!”

A number vibrated within him.

The third day had come—he was ready to leave.

Though their time together had been brief, Alvin felt deep sympathy for the siblings.

But he knew he couldn’t take them to the Middle Nest—even if he used the remaining gold bars to buy entry slots, he’d need at least three more days.

And the cult wouldn’t give him that much time—he had to reach the Middle Nest quickly, seeking power to break the deadlock.

“I’m leaving.”

Alvin stretched his stiff body, turning to look at the siblings in the corner.

“Thank you, Mr. Alvin.”

Emerych solemnly led his sister in a deep bow: “One day, we will repay your kindness.”

“A parting gift—I hope you’ll protect yourselves well.” After hesitating, Alvin handed them the old laser pistol: “This gun has aiming issues, so you must use it at close range. For now, avoid crowded places—understood?”

This was all he could do for the poor siblings.

The rest... was up to them.

Alvin pulled his black cloak back on, bid farewell to the siblings, and walked straight out of the alley.

“May the Divine Emperor protect you, Mr. Alvin!”

Behind him came Emerych’s youthful, sincere blessing.

The Divine Emperor protect him?

Alvin couldn’t help smiling.

If the Emperor woke up, his first act would likely be to tear down the state religion.

Yet, in his heart, he silently wished the siblings well: May the Divine Emperor protect you.

“The situation... seems even more tense.”

As soon as Alvin stepped into the black market, he sensed a tense atmosphere in the air.

In the past, even when the black market was quiet, it had never been this desolate—barely any stalls remained, only a few scattered figures.

The cult’s expansion seemed faster than he’d imagined... Alvin took a deep breath and quickened his pace.

He knocked on the iron door—the same bald man greeted him, gesturing him upstairs.

Tucker had his legs propped on the table, a cheap cigarette dangling from his lips. He glanced at Alvin: “You’re late.”

“I was delayed a bit on the way.”

Alvin removed his hood, hesitated briefly, then asked: “When I came in, I noticed the black market was nearly empty—what happened?”

“Heh, what do you think happened?”

Tucker lowered his gaze, sneering: “The Hammer Gang’s bastards are supposedly going to war with other districts.”

As expected—his guess had been correct.

Alvin sighed inwardly. The cult, wearing the skin of a gang, was expanding rapidly.

In other words—he was running out of time!

“I got the stuff you wanted.”

Tucker lowered his legs and pulled out a large bag from beneath the table.

Thud!

From the sound alone, the contents were heavy—the table groaned under the impact.

Then Tucker unzipped the bag and laid out its contents one by one, piling them until the entire table was full, before stopping.

“Blast rifle—standard issue for Starborne Troops. A bit old, but trust me—it’s worth having!”

“Two fragmentation grenades—my best finds. Lethal radius: ten meters!”

“Three high-density compressed energy batteries. These are the cheapest and easiest to get among all these.”

“Ten nutrient injectors, twenty energy bars!”

“And of course, the most important—standard-issue shell armor. Missing armor plates, covered in bullet scars—but it’ll stop regular bullets without issue!”

Alvin stared, dumbfounded, at the pile on the table, speechless with shock.

These things... were things a Lower Nest scavenger could get?!

What is a surprise? This is a surprise!