NIKKE: The Apocalypse Arrives, But the System is 100 Years Late

The past few days, the Ark had been abuzz with activity.

For no other reason than a breaking news story that had dominated the headlines.

The title read: "Supernova Commander, the Strongest Human, the Youngest Major General, Set to Acquire C.O.L, the Corporation Second Only to the Big Three!"

As soon as the news broke, it ignited a storm of discussion.

Many were confused as to why Mo Chen would acquire this company.

After all, while C.O.L's financial reports looked impressive, its actual expenditures were enormous. Just the investment in rare disease treatments alone accounted for more than half of its net profits—an absolutely terrifying figure.

The fundamental issue was that rare diseases were rare precisely because of their low occurrence, meaning they couldn't rely on large-scale sales like other medical products to offset research costs.

However, the public overwhelmingly supported Mo Chen, viewing his actions as an act of charity.

Regardless of the reasoning, Mo Chen's popularity skyrocketed, even surpassing that of the famed songstress, Aria.

But no matter what the public said, Mo Chen himself didn't care. The acquisition of C.O.L was merely a small part of his grand plan.

What no one knew was that the CEO of C.O.L, in front of Mo Chen, had to bow and scrape, and Mo Chen didn't even need to pay a single cent for the company.

While the Ark remained peaceful on the surface, the Outer Rim was in turmoil.

The Outer Rim was like a slum lurking at the edges of the city, shrouded in the towering shadows of skyscrapers. Narrow alleyways were lined with crumbling brick buildings and rusted tin shacks, their peeling paint and weathered walls bearing silent witness to years of hardship.

The air carried an indescribable stench—a blend of life's struggles, the rot of garbage, and the unmistakable scent of poverty.

X-3001—that was her designation. Like the others, she was no different from cargo, shipped here as just another disposable product.

They had all been sold to this place.

Like the others, her heart had long since grown numb.

Even as the slavers struck them with electric prods, she remained unresponsive, merely following in silent obedience.

She had no idea where she was being taken, nor what fate awaited her.

If she was lucky, she'd be sent to a club, used for entertainment—at least that meant survival, but only if she was considered attractive.

Those who weren't deemed beautiful enough were sold off to worse fates—some as mere disposable toys, some as tools for handling hazardous materials, and others were thrown straight into the Outer Rim's gang wars.

There, they would meet their end in meaningless battles.

"Crack! Crack—!"

Electric whips lashed across the bodies of the mass-produced Nikkes, sparks flying with each strike.

"Move it! Dammit, stop dragging your feet!"

The slavers barked, their voices full of impatience as they struck again and again, treating the Nikkes like livestock.

Or perhaps, even worse than livestock.

Even livestock had food to eat, a place to stay, and time to rest each day. But they had nothing.

They had once been so naive.

All those grand missions—"For humanity." "For reclaiming the surface." Looking back now, it all seemed like a cruel joke.

They had risked their lives in battle against the Raptures, returned to the Ark wounded and broken, only to receive neither cheers nor honor. Not even basic respect.

Instead, they were discarded like trash.

And they had no power to resist.

The rain drizzled down relentlessly.

Though the sky above was artificial, and the rain itself was man-made, today it felt different—heavier, longer, as if even the heavens were weeping.

She had deactivated her sensory systems, yet the biting cold still seeped through.

Maybe... it was just a lingering memory from when she was still human?

She didn't know.

The slavers herded them into a warehouse.

"Bang!"

The metal doors slammed shut behind them.

Inside, the warehouse was filthy and decrepit, filled with scattered junk and broken machinery.

It was crammed full of Nikkes, so tightly packed that even raising an arm was difficult.

Even livestock wouldn't be treated like this.

But they weren't livestock.

The previous batch had already been taken away, sent off to some unknown fate.

Perhaps... they had already been thrown into battle?

From outside the door, the voices of the slavers echoed through.

"Heh, can you believe that damn company is actually buying them back at double the price? What the hell are they thinking? Either way, we're making a killing off this deal."

"Damn right. Double the price? We can live like kings for a while."

"These Nikkes are all gonna die anyway. Might as well have some fun with them first."

"Careful, though. Nikkes aren't easy to get these days. Don't go breaking them too soon."

"Relax, we're just having some fun. You don't want to?"

At the same time, the three major gangs of the Outer Rim had gathered, their forces already deployed across the slums, securing strategic positions in preparation for a decisive battle against Heavenly Ascension.

Heavenly Ascension was a notorious terrorist group, a persistent thorn in the Ark's side. Over the past few years, their power had surged, swallowing up large chunks of territory that once belonged to the three gangs.

Now, their influence had spread like a plague, forcing the gangs into a desperate corner.

"Damn it!"

Moran, the boss of Peony Society, slammed her fist on the table.

"Those bastards from Heavenly Ascension are getting bolder! They actually dared to start a war and even claimed they'll wipe us out in one move. Arrogant fools!"

She was a striking woman—long, flowing hair like a waterfall, crimson eyes that burned with intensity. Twin dangling earrings swayed as she moved. She wore a sleek, form-fitting battle outfit, draped with a black cloak embroidered with golden dragon patterns. Her upper body was clad in a black blouse adorned with golden peonies, while her lower half was wrapped in a golden skirt embroidered with the same floral motifs. 

She was beautiful yet carried an air of undeniable authority.

"They've been planning this for a long time," said Sakura, her tone calm and composed, a stark contrast to Peony's fiery temper.

"They didn't just suddenly decide to act. They've been preparing for this for months, possibly years. Nearly every weapon on the market has been bought up by them."

Sakura was the leader of Seimeikai Society, a conservative faction dedicated to upholding a moral code.

"It's not just weapons," she continued, her expression darkening. "They've also acquired a massive number of mass-produced Nikkes from the government. Even though these models have reached their operational limits, they still retain combat capabilities. And somehow, they've figured out a way to make Nikkes fire on humans."

Moran's face twisted in rage.

"Using Nikkes?! Despicable!" She kicked a severed arm on the ground, sending it flying across the room. "If they've got the guts, they should fight us head-on. Resorting to tricks like this? What a bunch of cowards!"

"Nikkes or not, they're still just a pack of gutter rats," said Rosanna with a cold sneer.

She casually loaded her gun with a loud "click", her expression filled with contempt. "If they want to come at us, fine. I'll send them straight to hell—free of charge."

Compared to Peony and Sakura, Rosanna was far more violent and direct. As the leader of Hedonia, she followed only one rule: violence must be met with greater violence.