Apocalypse: System of lotteries



Inside the tent, four frogs frolicked around Ming, who sat intently, remotely controlling a zombie as it drove. To better observe, Ming shifted his Puppet's Eye to the co-pilot zombie.

The city's layout sloped from a higher elevation in the north to a lower one in the south. The north was mountainous, but urbanization transformed these mountains into foundations for towering skyscrapers. The south boasted a flat terrain with an extensive coastline.

Relying on his mental map and comparing it with the road signs he observed, Ming directed the novice zombie driver. Given the zombie's inexperience, it drove cautiously, but Ming didn't fault it; after all, zombies lacked brains.

After about an hour, they entered the northern part of the city. While buildings on either side of the streets stood upright, their exteriors and windows were severely damaged. Strangely, no zombies were in sight.

In a city of nearly 20 million people, the absence of a single zombie was unsettling. Of course, the only potential losses, if things went south, were the four puppet zombies; they were prepared to be sacrificed from the moment they were summoned.

Outside the tent, Euryale and the Red Knight stood guard on opposite sides. The latter whispered, "I know you disdain that pig-headed creature. It was once defeated by an emperor-level beast, proving its superficial strength. If we join forces, we could easily outwit it. What do you think?"

"You…" Euryale turned to the Red Knight, "You do realize our master can hear our innermost thoughts, right?"

"…"

The Red Knight paused, visibly embarrassed. "I know! I didn't speak ill of him. Besides, I respect him greatly. Euryale, you're aware of how magnificent our master is, aren't you?"

"~~"

Euryale turned away.

[Puppet Euryale doesn't wish to converse with a fool.]

[Puppet Red Knight believes you're remarkable in every aspect.]

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Ming chuckled. The Red Knight's will to survive was indeed intriguing. How did the Rule ever choose it? Was it due to its obedient nature or its ability to recite military strategies?

Wait a moment!

If this apocalyptic game was the creation of Little A and Little B, then its mechanics... must be inspired by their master Janice's ideas. If so, obtaining a copy of his game design would be advantageous. I recall from the logs that Janice once proposed a game design to his senior manager. If we can locate it, we might be able to take the initiative. Thus, our objectives are twofold:

First, locate Janice's residence.

Second, visit his company to see if we can find the game design.

The chances might be slim, but it's the best shot we have.

"Hmm?"

At that moment, Ming noticed puddles on the road. But it hadn't rained, so why was there so much water?

"Stop the car."

Following the command, the zombie driver halted. Ming dispatched another zombie to investigate.

"Starfish?"

Ming spotted 'pentagonal' shapes floating on the road. Upon closer inspection, they were starfish. Scanning the area, he saw countless floating starfish, sea urchins, and shells.

"Why are these in the city?"

"Could this water be... seawater?"I think you should take a look at ραΠdαsnovel.cοm

Ming continued to survey the surroundings, realizing water had inundated most of the streets. The water level was roughly 20cm, shallow enough for vehicles to navigate. Thankfully, his own bomb car was a special skill, probably more durable. They were approximately 5 kilometers away from their destination.

"Let's stay focused."

They resumed their journey, the car moving forward, pressing against the seawater. Ming recalled a previous announcement: the polar ice caps were melting at an accelerated rate.

If they completely melted... would Area 109, and perhaps the last remaining zones worldwide, be submerged?

By dusk, the car halted. Ming, using the zombie's perspective and aided by the car's headlights, looked up at a concrete arch reading:

[Third Avenue]

Surprisingly, the journey had been smoother than Ming had anticipated. He mused that perhaps it would have been quicker if he'd come personally. Nevertheless, it felt right this way. Directing the zombie to drive into the village, cars haphazardly lined both sides of the narrow road, effectively blocking any passage.

Alighting from the car, Ming proceeded on foot, his puppet's eyes scanning the building numbers. According to Lusen's account, Janice resided either in building 9 or 11. 

Moments later, the zombie waded through seawater to halt before building 9. The front door stood ajar, and the walls were marred with bloodstains. 

Ming directed the zombie up to the second floor, bypassing the first floor, which was a vacant lobby. Each floor held three apartments, with small single rooms of approximately eight or nine square meters flanking the staircase. These rooms, each containing a tiny kitchen connected to a bathroom, demanded a steep monthly rent of 1500 dollars.

As Ming mentally commented on the absurd rent, he cast a cursory glance over the second floor before heading to the third. Lusen had recalled that Janice lived in a single room on this floor.

301 held only a filthy bed and a battered wooden wardrobe, small enough to be filled with just a few articles of clothing. Women's intimate garments hung near the window. This clearly wasn't Janice's apartment.

302 was a one-bedroom unit, a choice that, given Janice's frugal nature, seemed unlikely for him. 

Still, Ming inspected it. The living room contained a shoe rack, a dining table, a small refrigerator, a sofa, and a coffee table. A television hung on the opposite wall. The bedroom was strewn with women's clothing and assorted cosmetics.

This wasn't it, either.

303 was a single room. Inside, a bunk bed sat amidst a litter of beer bottles, and aside from a pair of foul-smelling shoes, nothing else was present. 

This wasn't the one.

Exiting the room, Ming, through his zombie, looked up towards the fourth floor and decided to continue the search. After all, what if Lusen had remembered incorrectly? He had come this far; it made sense to be thorough. but, there was no trace of Janice.

Exiting Building 9, Ming directed his path towards Building 11. The entrance door was visibly warped, forming a concave groove. The lock bore marks of forced entry. The layout of this building mirrored that of number 9; no wonder they were owned by the same landlord.

He swiftly scanned the second floor and then proceeded to the third.

301's door was open. Inside, a bed and a small table were the only furnishings, the latter cluttered with miscellaneous items, including a water heater. Clearly, this was not the place.

302 appeared to house a couple, a deduction Ming made from the belongings strewn across the sofa. This wasn't the apartment he sought.

303's door was firmly shut.

Ming, still directing the zombie, sent it charging.

Bang! The door flew open, revealing a room awash in pink—hardly the abode of a single male tenant. The space was cluttered with a plethora of cosmetics and facial masks, looking more like the dwelling of a live-streaming influencer.

"Damn it!" 

Ming was frustrated. All this effort, and for what? Using the puppet's eyes so extensively, for such a prolonged duration—it had squandered so much of his resources. And all for this?

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