Chapter 24: A91 Safe Zone

“Our team’s primary objective this time is search and rescue. According to reports from the A91 Safe Zone, a massive tsunami has struck the area, flattening countless houses and leaving many civilians trapped beneath the rubble.”

“Due to special circumstances, this rescue operation will be extremely challenging. All complex electronic devices are unusable—mechanical rescue dogs, powered exoskeletons, life-detection instruments… Anyone with implanted metal prosthetics who doesn’t want their chips to burn out should leave the team now.”

A short-sleeved, military green T-shirt clung to the broad, powerful frame of the team leader, Howerson, whose cropped blond hair and demeanor marked him unmistakably as a former soldier.

Though the Relief Foundation was merely a charity organization, its funds came from the private wealth of the elite, so Howerson, as leader of this rescue team, was privy to many inside details about the disaster zone.

Nearly a hundred rescuers were assembled before the heavy military transport aircraft, which was loaded with a vast array of relief supplies. The aircraft, though an older model, had been retrofitted with plasma shield generators, allowing it to traverse the sunlit skies with ease.

“Team Leader Howerson, is it alright if we’ve got bioactive prosthetics?” asked a pale-faced young man, rolling up his sleeve in a show of pride to reveal an arm that looked perfectly ordinary.

This was the flagship technology of ‘Gospel Biotech’—the bioactive prosthetic.

The basic version used biomimetic materials and biodegradable polymers to minimize rejection. Some high-end models were even more impressive: cultivated from the recipient’s own induced pluripotent stem cells (iPSCs) and reinforced with advanced nanotechnology, they achieved remarkable compatibility with human tissue.

There were many advantages: only a small amount of suppressant was needed, mental overload was reduced, self-repair capability was present, they were hard to detect, and their appearance was indistinguishable from that of natural limbs.

Though less powerful than metal prosthetics, bioactive versions held the edge thanks to their many merits.

But their greatest flaw… was the price.

Howerson recognized the young man’s attempt at flaunting his wealth and responded with a cold snort. These thrill-seeking scions of privilege shouldn’t be in the rescue team—but what could he do? Money talks.

His gaze then swept to the ordinary young man at the end of the team, and his expression softened.

In contrast, the lad called William was much more likable. He’d worked in the fire department, had solid skills, and joined the rescue effort out of pure goodwill, without asking for a single cent in return.

Such good-hearted young men were rare these days…

“Move out!”

Howerson gave a sweeping gesture, and the nearly hundred-strong rescue team boarded the transport aircraft.

The pulse detonation engine ignited, and with a torrent of air and thunderous roar, the transport lifted off, vanishing into the clouds…

By the time the Foundation’s rescue team reached the A91 Safe Zone, night had fallen.

Despite the speed of the supply-laden transport—arriving in two and a half hours—they couldn’t land directly at the A91 Safe Zone.

Electromagnetic interference and sporadic EMP bursts forced them to touch down 200 kilometers away. Only after sunset could the rescue team proceed by truck.

But for the final stretch, not even vehicles could enter—the sudden, intense electronic pulses would fry every electronic component, including the engine control units.

So the rescue team trekked the last distance on foot, with only the women medical staff riding the horses, beasts of burden unique to the Safe Zone… and, of course, the privileged young man.

Years had passed since Li Nanke last witnessed the Safe Zone’s ruin.

In the darkness, flickering torchlight cast a yellow glow, flashlight beams swept the debris, and scattered industrial floodlights, encased in dense steel Faraday cages, illuminated both the wreckage and rows of bodies shrouded in white.

Cries and wails echoed ceaselessly; compared to the prosperous, secure city of salvation, this place was hell on earth.

Most of the coastal Safe Zone had been reduced to rubble. Countless low brick houses had collapsed, and though the surging waves had receded, the ground remained muddy and death-strewn.

The artificial sky shield, which had once protected the Safe Zone from lethal sunlight, had long since toppled. Most of its pillars lay broken, strewn across the ground.

“Artificial sky shield” was merely a high-tech term for a canopy constructed from vacuum-insulated panels, aerogel, and reflective coatings.

This cheap barrier could only block some of the sun’s radiant heat, offering scant protection from solar radiation. On rare clear days, the inhabitants could only hide in basements—no family could muster a single radiation-proof suit to venture outdoors.

Most wild Safe Zones were poorer than slums, more akin to refugee camps, and the so-called Old Federation government was a hollow shell—a malformed product born of nostalgia for a vanished era.

The search and rescue teams split into groups of ten, each equipped with medical personnel, demolition tools, and rescue dogs. Howerson’s squad was the vanguard, assigned to the most devastated coastal zone.

Unable to use precision electronics, the rescue work was primitive and inefficient.

As the operation progressed, occasional figures hurried across the debris—people in crisp uniforms, equipped with advanced gear.

Looking out across the shadowed coastline, the outlines of several large ships could be seen…

“Leader, are those people from the Crisis Control Bureau?” Li Nanke inquired during a break, as Howerson wiped the sweat and grime from his brow, his eyes appreciative. This young man feared neither hardship nor danger, always volunteering for the riskiest tasks, his technical skills exemplary. In just a few hours, he’d saved several lives.

Without hesitation, Howerson had transferred him to his own vanguard team.

Howerson was already planning, once the rescue was over, to recommend the Foundation offer this lad a permanent position. Talent like his shouldn’t slip away.

“Yes, but don’t expect them to help us,” Howerson replied, not hiding the truth. “Right now, rescue work is tough. Once the Crisis Control Bureau hauls away that giant thing in the sea, we’ll be able to use most of our electronic equipment. Then, the pace of rescue will greatly improve…”

“The giant in the sea—was this disaster caused by a living creature?”

“No. They say it’s a massive machine that fell from the sky. Lots of debris scattered when it hit the water. The Bureau people have been working for days to salvage it…”

“Leader, those ships seem to be operating fine—they must be closer to the thing in the sea. Why can’t we use electronic devices?”

“The Bureau has professional containment specialists—people beyond our understanding. It’s got nothing to do with science or prosthetics, more like… supernatural powers, you know? Hey, hey, what’s that look of envy for?”

Howerson, with the air of an old hand, clapped him on the shoulder, warning, “William, you’re still young. I was like you once, but it’s best not to envy them. Those folks deal with forbidden things every day—you’d need ten lives to survive it…”

Li Nanke had gleaned many eyewitness accounts from survivors, and some inside information from Howerson. Cross-referencing them, he now had a rough idea.

He gazed out at the deep sea, watching the silhouettes of the ships, his eyes flickering with thought.