The dim room finally fell completely silent.
Cristoforo looked as if all his strength had been drained. He slumped back into the chair powerlessly, yet his gaze remained fixed on the spot where the two figures had been.
After a long while, he finally spoke:
"There's nothing else here, Phrolova. If you want to leave, go ahead."
"I was going to leave." Phrolova turned her head and looked at Cristoforo:
"But now, I suddenly have a question."
"What?"
"I suddenly find myself doubting whether Fractsidus can truly carve out a path forward for civilization."
Hearing this ambiguous and loaded question, Cristoforo turned his head and finally met Phrolova's eyes. A hint of warning appeared in his gaze:
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean — isn't Fractsidus actually founded purely out of personal greed?"
Phrolova didn't retreat in the slightest. Her words grew even more blunt:
"As Overseers, both you and Scar are the same. You strut and show off in front of the weak, but the moment you encounter someone stronger, you become timid and wilt."
"In front of the ordinary citizens of Jinzhou and the priests of Ragunna, you act however you please, unleashing calamity according to your whims. But in front of Threnodians, you suddenly become humble — even fawning."
"As Overseers of Fractsidus, with such bullying-the-weak-and-fearing-the-strong behavior… can an organization like this really bring any kind of future to humanity?"
Hearing Phrolova's questioning, Cristoforo's expression flickered through a range of emotions before he finally burst into mocking laughter:
"Phrolova, I really didn't expect you to question something like this. Let me put it to you simply with just one counter-question: do you care about the life or death of those weaklings?"
He shook his head, as if answering for her:
"When you stood atop the statue of Ovathrax commanding the Tacet Discord tide, when you fought side by side with the Dreamless at the Statue of the Crownless… did you feel your hands were clean?"
"Admit it. Once you gain great power or authority, you can no longer tolerate weak, ordinary mortals standing on equal footing with you."
"That's how this world works. Whoever is strong gets to establish order. Whoever is strong doesn't have to follow rules. Because strength is the only truth."
"Of course Fractsidus will seek a path forward for civilization — because civilization is also tied to our own quality of life. As for those weak, ordinary people—"
Cristoforo let out a cold snort:
"They have no place in our eyes."
"I don't think so."
Phrolova's expression turned displeased:
"If the rule is 'whoever is strongest is the truth,' then wouldn't Noah be a far more convincing truth than Fractsidus?"
Her mind flashed back to that solitary, resolute figure at the Statue of the Crownless, on Mt. Firmament, and amid the Black Tide of Ragunna.
That person always drew his blade against those stronger than himself — and never once lost!
"I don't want to argue with you. You must be too tired, that's why you're saying such irrational, meaningless things."
Cristoforo had lost his patience:
"If you think that person is more trustworthy than Fractsidus, then go find him. But don't forget — you are an Overseer of Fractsidus, and more importantly, his enemy!"
After those words fell, Phrolova fell completely silent.
She had to admit that even if Fractsidus was a pirate ship, so what? She had already boarded this pirate ship, committed many crimes, and could no longer wash herself clean.
Moreover, she and Fractsidus had always been using each other. Fractsidus used her abilities; she used Fractsidus to revive her loved ones. Their positions were fundamentally different — what was there to argue about?
But… if this was Fractsidus's attitude toward ordinary people, would they really help her revive her family?
Or would Fractsidus simply discard her like trash the moment she outlived her usefulness?
Phrolova clenched her teeth tightly. Her gaze grew colder. She turned and walked straight out of the room.
"Phrolova!"
A sudden shout rang out behind her:
"The plan to help Leviathan reshape its body has already failed. We're now restarting the original backup plan."
"…"
"Your Red Spider Lily was crushed by me earlier, and the Threnodian creation has been destroyed. From now on, we'll contact through terminal."
"…"
"Everything you just said — I won't tell the Overseer. You'd better not act recklessly. Only Fractsidus can help you. Think of your family."
"…Mm."
The door closed softly.
Head lowered, Phrolova walked forward aimlessly on her own. Her thoughts were in complete chaos.
Was Fractsidus really trustworthy?
She didn't know. She had no choice.
Did becoming so-called "strong" inevitably make one feel fundamentally different from ordinary people?
It seemed everyone was like this. Scar was like this. Cristoforo was like this. Even the newly modified Craftsmen were the same.
Once a person's status became high enough, they would unconsciously lose themselves in their own power, forgetting where they came from and how they reached such a position.
Yeah… Phrolova suddenly gave a bitter laugh. Wasn't she herself exactly the same? What right did she have to be sentimental?
Living in a world where civilization was being rebuilt after the end of days, in a world that could collapse at any moment, in a world with no visible way out…
Who wouldn't, after obtaining great power or status, immediately think of indulging themselves rather than sacrificing for others?
The only ones capable of making such people bow their heads were those even stronger than them — never those weaker.
So… would Noah be the same? Probably. After all, he possessed even greater power. He would only become more arrogant, more unapproachable.
Lost in thought, Phrolova bought a public terminal from a small stall at the edge of Ragunna. The moment she turned around, a familiar figure suddenly entered her field of vision.
Just that one glance — she felt as if her heartbeat had skipped half a beat. Her whole body trembled in fright.
Not far away.
Noah.
Moving bricks.
Phrolova hurriedly turned around. Her slow walk turned into a brisk walk, then into a jog, and she quickly retreated more than two hundred meters.
Only after finding a hidden corner to conceal herself did she dare turn back, her gaze now filled with even greater confusion.
That person… was really moving bricks?
No — more accurately, he was moving short brownwood, a type of timber used for shipbuilding in Rinascita.
Why would he do that? Phrolova was completely baffled.
…
At the docks.
"Young man, even a Resonator is coming to the docks to pick up work?"
A group of tanned, lean, middle-aged men greeted Noah enthusiastically, clearly finding the sight extremely novel.
"You're too kind. Resonators need to make money and eat too, you know."
Noah smiled and shook his head. A layer of frost currently covered both of his hands. Right now he was using Youhu's Forte, and he wasn't equipped with any weapon or Echo.
In other words, at this moment, his physical strength had received virtually no enhancement whatsoever — it was purely his original body.
He had flown around Rinascita for half a day and still hadn't found a single Fractsidus member, so he decided to pick up his daily commission first.
The task only required moving three thousand pieces of wood. Each piece was about as heavy as a book — not a big deal at all.
"You've already stacked one hundred thirty. Young man, with your delicate skin and tender flesh, can you handle it?"
Noah tested the weight on his shoulder and immediately replied:
"No problem. Pile it on boldly. I train every day."
"One hundred sixty now — still good?"
It was getting a bit heavy, but Noah could still manage:
"More, more."
One-seventy, one-eighty, one-ninety… all the way to two hundred.
"That's enough, that's enough. Thank you."
Noah shouldered the maximum weight he could currently bear, clenching his teeth tightly. His face flushed slightly red.
Two hundred at a time. Fifteen trips would be enough to complete the task. For the double Astrite reward — worth it!
"Damn, kid! Most of us can't even carry two hundred."
Noah calmly accepted the surrounding praise and was about to head toward the dock when his gaze unconsciously drifted to the side.
With just that one look, he froze.
The tanned, lean middle-aged man beside him was carrying three hundred pieces of short brownwood.
"Wait… big brother…"
Noah cried out in shock:
"We're all working class here — why are you trying so hard? Carrying that much?"
"My kid at home is sick. I need to earn a bit more."
The middle-aged man gave him a simple, honest smile, said nothing more, and carried the small mountain of short brownwood toward the edge of the dock.
Watching the man's swaying back, Noah became momentarily lost in thought. The introduction text of this commission seemed to appear once again before his eyes:
[In this world, there will always be such precious people. They may not be able to protect every little flower, but they will guard their own one with everything they have.]