Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Fuse

For the Federation, these have not been good days.

Del walked into the conference room, and he could clearly see the gloom on his colleagues’ faces, as if a low-pressure front was lingering over them. To see these once arrogant, high-and-mighty men brought so low was, to Del, rather amusing. But he dared not let slip the slightest trace of disrespect toward his peers; instead, he quickly lowered his head, hurried to his seat, sat down, and closed his eyes, feigning deep thought. In truth, this was the standard posture for everyone present—at a time like this, any unnecessary movement could spark needless conflict. The best course was to pretend to see nothing and hear nothing at all… Sometimes, willful ignorance was useful indeed.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud…

Not long after Del settled in, a succession of heavy footsteps began to resound. At the sound, those who had been feigning deafness and blindness opened their eyes, exchanged uneasy glances, and, as if by silent command, turned to look at the door. The footsteps grew louder, and under the watchful gaze of all, the sturdy, blast-proof iron door—built to withstand a zombie assault—suddenly buckled inward with a deafening crash. The door’s hinges gave a tortured squeal before snapping with a second, sharp crack, sending the iron door flying backward. It struck an unlucky soul seated behind it, knocking him to the ground in a spray of blood and shattered teeth. Then, a burly, imposing figure appeared in the doorway.

He was a man built like a polar bear, bare-chested save for a crucifix hanging at his neck. His taut muscles made him resemble the lead actor from a once-famous pre-cataclysm sci-fi film—the Terminator himself.

At his arrival, everyone, Del included, fell silent as if the real Terminator had appeared before them.

“Very good. You’re all here. Excellent.” The man surveyed the room, nodding in satisfaction. He did not spare a glance for the poor wretch groaning on the floor, but strode straight to the head of the table and sat down with the ease of one used to command. He glanced once more at the bowed heads around him, then suddenly slammed his palm upon the table.

“Our colonies are being attacked one after another, our soldiers slaughtered, our slaves stolen, and yet you all just sit here?!”

At the man’s furious roar, Del scarcely dared to breathe, bowing his head even lower and silently praying that God would spare him from this demon’s attention. In truth, Del was terrified—for the simple reason that the Federation was truly faltering.

No one, Del included, had ever imagined that an assault on District Nine would spiral into this disaster. Michael was considered one of the Federation’s top figures, and the legion he led was the Federation’s main force. In the beginning, Del had never considered the possibility of defeat. They had swept across half the wasteland, seizing several small settlements within District Nine’s sphere of influence, while District Nine made no response. To the Federation, this was a sign of District Nine’s cowardice—the very source of their confidence.

So, when Michael was defeated, the main army routed, and only a few battered assault squads managed to limp back, Del and his associates were utterly stunned.

The Federation, despite its grandiose name, was at its core just one more power struggling to survive in the post-cataclysm wasteland—no different in essence from forces like District Nine. Its origins lay in an army base; most members were military men, and with superior arms and equipment, the Federation had followed a very different path from District Nine.

In fact, the Federation’s tradition of opposing “ability users” was not without reason. Not long after its founding, one such power-wielder had appeared, seeking to seize control of the settlement and its strategic resources. After a bitter struggle, the Federation’s fighters had slain the intruder and claimed victory. In those fearful early days, news that ordinary people had bested an ability user was celebrated and widely spread. Many later joined the Federation for this reason alone: in those unstable times, people were wary and fearful of such powers, lacking any means to resist them. In their eyes, the Federation was a force they could trust—certainly more so than those monstrous ability users.

Through militarized management and the advantage of firearms, the Federation grew stronger, swallowing up other settlements and expanding its reach. Of course, they met resistance, and sometimes faced ability users, but most of these lesser powers were no match for the Federation, and their defeats only enhanced its reputation. Del had always taken pride in this. Yet now, the very same policies had led the Federation to its current crisis.

The defeat of the main army sent shockwaves throughout the Federation, sowing doubt among its ranks. Their policy of hunting down ability users had virtually wiped them out. There could be no peace between the Federation and the gifted; in earlier days, the gifted were few and weak, so the Federation never cared about their opinions. But now, facing adversaries like District Nine, the Federation could no longer afford to ignore them.

And before the Federation could recover from the humiliation of their failed assault on District Nine, an even more shocking development left them utterly dumbfounded—District Nine had begun to counterattack!

Led by the “Queen” and the “Butcher,” over half of District Nine’s Seven Giants had joined in pillaging and raiding the Federation. With their followers, they swept through Federation outposts as if they were unguarded. All who resisted were slain; the rest were captured and forced into slavery.

The Federation, of course, did not realize that this was the independent action of the Seven Giants. In truth, District Nine had no unified political authority; it was more akin to a cooperative alliance. But the Federation knew nothing of this—and even if they did, they would never believe such a ludicrous tale. Common sense dictated that such a loose alliance would shatter at the first blow, incapable of victory.

More importantly…

“Now, the Federation’s reputation is hanging by a thread!”

The man struck the table with his fist, visibly enraged. The Federation’s foundation had always been its resistance to, and triumph over, the gifted—this was the glue that held people together. But now, that foundation had been shattered. The Federation had never anticipated the gulf between high-level and low-level ability users would be so vast, leaving them powerless and forced to watch as outpost after outpost fell, descending into slaughter and ruin. Chaos now threatened the Federation from within; if they could not defeat these rampaging gifted, they would soon face their own destruction.

“Del!”

At the sound of his name, Del shuddered violently, but forced himself to stand and meet the polar bear’s gaze.

“Sir, what are your orders?”

“I want to know if you have any results regarding those damned things. I want a clear and unambiguous report, not another heap of paper filled with ‘possible,’ ‘maybe,’ and ‘perhaps!’”

“We—we are working hard, sir! I assure you we have made some progress, but the assistance we’ve received from… those people is still insufficient to complete our final design, so—”

“I don’t want to hear any more excuses.” The man cut Del off with a dismissive wave.

“I’m not interested in bad news. I state my demands, and you deliver results. You have one week! One week! I don’t care what methods you use—make what you’ve described in your report a reality! Understood, Del?”

“Yes, sir…”

At the man’s bellow, Del trembled and lowered his head.

“I understand your meaning. I will see to it personally.”