Ten men were sitting around a lantern in the back of an armored truck.

Their objective was simple. Destroy a gang that was selling drugs in New Angola without paying taxes.

“Tankers?” The leader of the group spoke up.

“Ready.” Five men answered. Each one of them held a riot shield in one hand and a short spear in the other.

“Fencers?”

“Ready!” Three people with sabers shouted at the same time.

“Marksman?”

“I'm ready too.” The last of his subordinates replied. He had a semi-automatic crossbow and thirty bolts.

Hearing that everyone else was equipped, the leader pulled out his precious revolver and rotated the cylinder to check if all cartridges were loaded.

Each bullet cost him more than five thousand credits, but no price was too steep to save his comrades.

“Remember. Tankers up front, marksman behind them. Fencers are going out last. I will stay here to keep the high ground.”

A few minutes later, the truck slowed down, and then went into reverse. Everyone inside was already in position.

“On my mark.” The captain whispered after extinguishing the lamp. “3… 2… 1… Go!”

The doors burst open after being kicked by five men at the same time. They put their shields in front of their faces immediately after, and rushed ahead.

Inside the hangar were a few trucks and many crates tagged “sugar” or “medicine”

Shortly after, the crossbowman jumped out and looked around… Just to see that all their enemies were already dead.

The only moving object in sight was a black something, hunkering next to one of the corpses.

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The fencers started coming closer, but their leader stopped them.

“Tankers, get into the half moon formation and slowly approach. Marksman, flank it. Fencers, protect him.”

Three seconds later, everyone was in position.

“Slowly approach. Just make sure not to… Startle it.”

The tankers looked at him with uncertainty, but nonetheless complied. Under his leadership, they all earned five citizen cards without suffering even a single casualty.

After noticing that someone was walking closer to it, the black entity stood up and turned around to look at the five men with shields. It was towering above two meters, higher than anyone else in the room.

“You're lucky I had something to eat just now.” The figure proclaimed, before moving toward the exit. It was the king of undead, Lich.

A crossbow bolt tried to rudely stop him, but Lich couldn't even feel it. His robe just blocked the shot.

While most of the team was watching the weird man, the leader was focusing on Lich's last meal.

Its head was smashed into a thin red paste, half of it missing. Nonetheless, he recognized the corps' identity from its clothes.

“You must be one hungry boy. You even ate the head like a zombie.”

“You sound like it was important or something. It's not my fault I couldn't find any animals for five days.” Lich turned around and answered.

The tankers were the only ones close enough to hear the conversation, and the way their leader spoke casually shocked them.

“It was pretty expensive.”

“So you must be New Angolans. Haven't seen one of you guys in ten years. How much did they pay you?” New Angola was once so famous, even Lich heard about it.

“One whole citizen card.”

“What the hell is a citizen card?”

“A lot changed nine years ago. I'm Jack, by the way.” With that, he started explaining.

How much was a single card?

A lot.

On average, a group of ten mercenaries would get one card for each member after one and a half years of working. Of course, Jack's Group was better than a run-of-the-mill team.

The reason these cards were so valuable lay in the way New Angola worked.

Everyone in New Angola belonged to either the free group, or the serf group.

The free people were treated like citizens. They could choose their occupation, leave the chain of cities at will, and save money. Of course, not many used the second privilege.

The serfs did not have such rights. Most men were assigned as factory workers or farmers, while all women were either prostitutes, or low-rank servants.

Men could earn their freedom by chance. Every time a freeman dies, one random male serf is picked.

Women had to be selected by someone free, and given a citizen card. Such a woman would then be forced to be the “buyers” wife for five years, even if none of the parties wanted that.

Once the period was over, they were afforded full freedom, with a small exception. They could not become mercenaries.

The system worked well enough… for now.

“That's about it.”

“I saw worse countries.”

A man ran up to them.

“Boss, I think the truck broke.”

Jack turned toward him, and then looked at Lich.

“You—”

“I'm going to the city. Good luck.”

Lich left quickly. Joining some army wasn't his idea of fun.