Chapter 2

The hum of the condensation system in the NSCC command center was particularly jarring. Dr. Sarah had been busy in the lab for three whole days, the air thick with the smell of formaldehyde and ozone from heated electronic components.

I stood outside the explosion-proof observation window, watching the "guests" inside "recovering."

In my mind, the electronic voice calling itself the "Redemption System" rang out precisely on time, carrying that hypocritical, nauseating compassion: "The doomsday refuge area has been preliminarily formed. Host Jack, compassion is the cornerstone of civilization. Initiate the 'Compassionate Gathering Place' plan immediately. Mission objective: Accept all mutated survivors exposed in the wild, provide them with medical and survival support, and do not use any inhumane methods."

I didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly to the monitor hanging on the wall, as if indicating "obedience" to the invisible system. On the other end of the monitor, Dr. Sarah picked up my signal through her communicator.

“Jack, this alien thing’s thought process is really interesting.” Sarah’s voice came through the walkie-talkie, trembling with fervor. “It demands that we be ‘benevolent,’ demanding comprehensive protection for these infected people covered in pus and with mutated muscles. Tell me… what kind of protection would be worthy of my experimental scalpel?”

I looked at the group of “mutants” that the special forces had dragged back from the desolate ruins using powerful magnetic field restraint devices. Some of them had half their faces ulcerated, and some were still twitching erratically. By the standards of those so-called human rights organizations, these people should be terminally ill; but in my eyes, they were excellent, mobile biological sample repositories.

“Meet its demands, Sarah,” I said coldly. “But remember, the definition of ‘guarantee’ is determined by the contract we signed. Since the system requires the establishment of a ‘Gathering Place of Benevolence,’ then completely designate our Biological Laboratory No. 3 as the ‘Center of Benevolence.’ All infected individuals contained there must undergo 24/7 physiological monitoring to ensure that every single cell of theirs is under our supervision.”

Commander Reynolds strode over, looking at the mutants roaring in fear through the observation window, and stubbed out his cigar.

“Jack, your ‘benevolence’ looks rather cold.” He tapped the glass lightly.

“It’s a KPI,” I calmly corrected. “The system needs results, we need output. As long as these infected individuals can continuously provide data, the system will consider us to be fulfilling our obligations of ‘benevolence.’ Reynolds, have your guards remove half of their physical restraints and replace them with neural inhibitory fields. As long as they don’t move, give them the best liquid nutrient solution.”

Dr. Sarah let out an almost distorted cheer in the laboratory. Under her command, the mutants were sent into the high-pressure biological experimental chamber. We don't need to actually cure them; we just need to analyze the vulnerabilities of this damned virus through frequent gene slicing, viral load testing, and serological cross-testing.

The system interface kept refreshing in my field of vision, the task progress bar rising rapidly like a greedy vampire.

['Completion of 'Benevolent Gathering Place': 92%]

[Survivors detected receiving real-time monitoring; Civilization Redemption Index increased.]

I looked at the fluctuating data, a cold smile curving my lips. These mutants were originally uncontrollable disaster nodes in this wasteland; now, they are my research consumables. Each injection reveals a viral mutation sequence that is an indispensable piece of the national strategic plan.

"Jack, look at this!" Sarah's voice suddenly trembled, the fervor of a true scientist. "If I inject this special enzyme into these samples, they will exhibit a 'self-destructive' rejection reaction… This is practically forcing the virus to self-destruct!"

"Then let's do it." I looked at the task reward panel on the screen.

[Detected that 'benevolent' actions have had a profound impact; task objective achieved. Reward: [Biological Gene Analysis Engine] module.] The air

seemed to distort as if some high-dimensional technology had arrived. I saw a logical sequence slowly embedding itself into the laboratory's main control unit from the sphere of light in the center of the control panel.

At that moment, the NSCC's supercomputing power resonated with a deep, dull sound, as if the entire laboratory was linked to the intelligence of a galaxy in its brain. Dr. Sarah rushed to the control panel. She looked at the previously unbreakable genetic code, now clearly visible like an exposed logical chain under the support of the [Analysis Engine].

In just a few minutes, she completely dismantled the underlying virus code that had plagued humanity for half a century and caused mutations.

"It collapsed... the virus's disguise code was torn apart," Sarah murmured. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with the awe of being completely conquered by technology. "Jack, we've not only developed the antibody, we can even directly release this 'inhibition protocol' into existing water sources."

I looked at this great gift from the "Redemption System" and felt it was like a foolish laborer offering up core secrets with tears in its eyes.

“Very good,” I turned to Reno and gave him instructions, “Issue a public announcement. From today onwards, our ‘Compassionate Gathering’ will be open to all factions in the wasteland. Anyone who can provide enough biological samples can exchange them for a ‘purification serum.’”

“Are you going to use this as bait to turn all the wasteland survivors in the world into our living database?” Reno laughed, his laughter carrying the chilling weight of world control. “Jack, you are a true genius.”

“No, Reno.” I looked at the sample in the observation window, which had finally stopped mutating and was lying quietly in the pod. “This is called ‘technological monopoly.’”

The system popped up a new mission interface again. Those cold, soulless instructions had become, in my eyes, a check that could be filled out at will.