[Current Objective: Prevent Anarchy]

The Human League’s response to Regan’s takeover from Earth Mother was anything but welcoming. Discontent brewed, simmering into outright hostility, and I was tasked with quelling the unrest. Fortunately, my Empathy perk proved invaluable. It allowed me to tap into the emotional currents of these characters, revealing their grievances and desires through careful conversation.

The path to stabilizing the situation turned out to be a grueling series of fetch quests and settlement upgrades, stretching across nearly three days. One settler demanded twelve spanners, another insisted on better sleeping arrangements, while a third required enhancements to Crushing Meadows' underground nuclear reactor to improve farm irrigation. The tasks were monotonous but essential. By the end, we had only lost four particularly finicky settlers who wandered into the wasteland, never to return.

On the first day of our leadership, I suggested to Regan that we send our two most loyal settlers to Rustborder as emissaries. They carried the news of Crushing Meadows’ safety and the need for their assistance. When they returned that afternoon, the reunion with Regan was deeply moving. Tears of joy streamed down faces hardened by hardship. It was a moment that seemed to surprise everyone involved. I felt like an intruder, watching their raw emotional display.

The second day saw Rolland stepping up as the new chief security officer. He immediately began cataloging our arsenal—everything from the weapons we’d scavenged in Rustborder to those brought in by mule caravan.

“We’ve got enough firepower to hold off a small army,” Rolland assessed, “but not nearly enough personnel to use it all. We need to establish defensive lines where settlers can fall back if things go bad. The real challenge, though, is determining who gets armed. I’d rather not equip potential rebels on my first day.”

The answer came from Taylor. Having spent the previous day examining the crafting tables and supplies, she had a solution.

“The loom that produced those dreadful robes has options for crafting settlement apparel,” Taylor said. “It’s a bit tricky, but the designs seem to offer loyalty-boosting bonuses.”

Taylor devoted most of the second day to crafting settlement clothing. Rather than opting for a uniform, she created a variety of outfits to give settlers a sense of individuality, each emblazoned with our emblem. I assisted with the distribution and quickly noted that those loyal to the old regime were hesitant to part with their robes. However, those who embraced their new attire were swiftly promoted to trusted roles within our settlement.

By the third day, discerning loyalty among the settlers became less of a mystery. It appeared there was an unspoken rule: a Notter would discard their settlement apparel if their loyalty waned too much. This led to the peculiar sight of nearly naked Notters wandering about, their Human League robes left behind, and their inventories barren.

“The radio’s installed,” Regan declared as she entered the command bunker, her presence filling the room with a charged energy. She had commandeered Earth Mother’s glass temple, repurposing it for her own needs.

“Ah, look who’s here—our illustrious leader,” I teased.

Regan shot me a frosty glance. “Shut up, idiot,” she retorted, though her tone carried a trace of amused exasperation.

I flashed a grin, sensing there was something more serious on her mind.

“Jonas, we need to talk,” Regan said.

“My imminent departure?” I suggested.

Regan nodded, her expression confirming it.

“Listen, Regan. Don’t try to talk me into staying. You’ve found your place in this world, but I haven’t. My place is out there—”

“So it’s not here with me?” Regan cut in, her voice light but with an undercurrent of hurt.

“The past few days have been a welcome distraction, but they haven’t brought me any closer to understanding why the AI gave me sentience. It’s like a constant itch, a relentless hunger,” I explained.

But more than that, there was a larger question: what’s happening in the world beyond?

“I know other players are out there, building their own empires and growing stronger. Are they allies or adversaries? Can we even hope for a peaceful existence with the AI and other players around? Someone has to find out.”

Regan and I sat in the heavy silence that followed, the kind that stretches time. Finally, she spoke.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I get it, Jonas. It’s a shame you’re leaving, but I understand. There’s one thing I need from you. When you go, could you take the nuclear bomb with you?”

“What?” I stammered, bewildered. “Take it where, exactly?”

“Anywhere far from here,” Regan replied with a calm that did little to soothe my unease. “Honestly, I don’t care if you drop it into a ravine. It’s too dangerous to leave around, and it makes me uncomfortable knowing it’s here. I’d feel better if it were with you.”

“Regan!” I protested, my voice betraying my rising alarm. “There’s no guarantee I’ll last more than fifteen minutes out there. Raiders could pick me off easily. We can’t just hand over a doomsday device like that.”

Regan shook her head firmly. “Don’t sell yourself short, Jonas. You’ve survived more than your fair share of this world’s chaos. Raiders are just another problem you can handle. Above all, you’re a survivor—someone who can navigate through trouble and keep going. I believe in you, even if you don’t see it. That’s why I’m asking you to do this. I trust you.”

Her confidence in me was a stark contrast to my own self-doubt. Up until now, it had been a whirlwind of errors and luck. But her faith resonated deeply, and despite my reservations, I agreed to take the doomsday device with me.

Later, I came across the radio Regan had assembled in the sanctuary. It was a relic of a bygone era: a bulky contraption of dials and buttons encased in steel, with wires snaking from the table and disappearing behind a stack of crates. A gridded microphone stood on a stand, poised like a sentinel. I tuned the frequency to Captain Meryll’s codec and pressed the broadcast button.

“Meryll, it’s Jonas. Are you there?”

“Jonas, I’m in the middle of a fight. Make it quick,” came Meryll’s curt reply, her voice strained and punctuated by the distant roar of gunfire and her labored breathing. She was clearly too preoccupied to care about my revelation that our blood was the key to granting Notters sentience. I resolved to save this crucial piece of information for when we could discuss it face-to-face.

“Understood, Captain. I’ve secured a settlement, but my lack of knowledge about the sacred lore here is a stumbling block. I’m requesting permission to enter your settlement to learn more about our world.”

It wasn’t a complete lie—just a truth tailored to appeal to a warrior of a sacred order.

Through the crackling of combat, Meryll’s voice cut through sharply. “We’re forbidden from sharing sacred lore with the uninitiated. What’s in it for me if I break my oath?”

I had anticipated this and was prepared to negotiate. “My settlement has food and other resources. I might be able to establish a trade route between us, but I’m not certain.”

“I’m not lacking in basic supplies,” Meryll replied. “The Reclaimers chapter is interested in lost technology. That’s what I need.”

“In that case, Captain,” I said, “what if I told you I possess a thermonuclear device? One that I’m willing to offer you.”

There was a long stretch of radio silence, enough to make me wonder if something had happened to the power-armored crusader on the other end.

“That would be satisfactory,” Meryll’s voice crackled through the radio, her awe barely masked.

In my mind, this arrangement seemed to neatly resolve my immediate concerns. Meryll had mentioned a library of knowledge that could shed light on the broader context of this world, while I was delivering a doomsday device to what I hoped would be one of the most secure settlements in the wasteland. I had no reason to suspect that Meryll Klyne, fourth captain of the Reclaimers chapter, would misuse the weapon. Little did I know, her true intentions were far more sinister.

Meryll sent over the coordinates for her citadel and signed off. I plugged the data into my map and winced as the waypoint appeared, far to the East—further than I had expected. The citadel was roughly one hundred miles away, translating to a three-day trek through the forest that Rolland despised.

I spent the rest of the day preparing for the journey. After raiding the armory, I equipped myself with some of the best gear available. This included a combat backpack that increased my carrying capacity by twenty percent, allowing me to wear heavier armor. Rolland provided me with a flak jacket, and Taylor crafted reinforced combat trousers. Together, these upgrades improved my damage resistance by thirteen percent—a significant boost from my previous lighter gear. The trade-off was a slight reduction in agility, but Rolland’s Trail Stalker boots helped mitigate this, enhancing my agility by one point—from four to five.

“You kept my girl safe, just as you promised,” he said, handing me a 10mm pistol—its barrel gleaming with the promise of precision. “The least I can do is give you these.”

In addition to the pistol, capable of delivering eight damage per shot and accompanied by fifty rounds of ammunition, I was given three grenades, each with a devastating damage output of three hundred. Despite the earlier near-disaster with grenades, I decided to keep them.

Regan had also crafted a detachable spear from a formidable hunting knife and a metal pole. The spear, when assembled, dealt fifteen damage, while the knife alone inflicted ten. The added reach of the spear was a notable advantage, allowing me to engage enemies from a safer distance. Furthermore, she had enhanced my Cooking Knife, boosting its damage from five to seven.

“The cleanup crew in the old Sanctuary hasn’t found your spatula yet,” Regan said with a hint of regret.

“That’s alright,” I replied. “I think I’ve moved beyond needing it.”

By midday, I was ready to leave Crushing Meadows. After a hearty meal to boost my Endurance and stocking my inventory with essential healing and survival gear, there were no grand farewells or fanfares—just a quiet departure. I made my peace with everyone I had met and walked out the door.

Outside the compound, the world remained as it always was—an endless expanse of desolation. The doomsday device at my feet was a stark reminder of how close we had come to total annihilation.

Gazing East, I could barely make out the dark smudge of the forest on the horizon. With a firm grip on the suitcase containing the thermonuclear device, I set off on my long march forward.