A thunderstorm broke out.
Raindrops the size of soybeans covered the entire city and surrounding areas in an instant. It was as if the world had been draped in a thin veil, making everything appear vague and indistinct.
People crowded the streets to find shelter from the rain. Skirts clung to long, shapely legs as the water soaked through, making them even more striking.
The bakery saw a few people come in to avoid the rain. Embarrassed, they bought some bread out of courtesy.
On any other day, regulars might have filled the room with lively chatter, brightening the atmosphere of the bakery. But today, no one seemed to be in the mood to talk. Everyone looked heavy-hearted, gazing at the dark sky outside.
Low-hanging clouds seemed so close you could almost touch them. They not only loomed over Jingang City but weighed down on people’s emotions as well.
Jingang City often experienced such thunderstorms, especially in summer. Being near the coast, storms came and went quickly.
Sometimes, people appreciated these storms—they washed away the city’s dust, freshened the air, and brought a temporary reprieve from the oppressive heat. But now, no one was in the mood to think about such things.
The Federation was no stranger to war, nor was it unseasoned in participating in wars. On the contrary, it was precisely because they understood the horrors of war that the people now found themselves mired in anxiety and unease.
Watching others suffer was always enjoyable, but when misfortune struck oneself, no one could laugh.
The gloomy sky resembled the clouded hearts of the people, who felt as if the sunlight in their lives had been blocked out.
Even Lance, who fancied himself as having witnessed many grand events, could only stare dumbfounded at the rolling tide of history sweeping toward him, utterly powerless.
Due to the rain, the streets remained deserted until noon. Around 11 o’clock, the storm finally passed, and golden sunlight pierced through the clouds, tearing apart the gray veil and illuminating the earth.
The rain-washed Jingang City sparkled with freshness, and more pedestrians began appearing on the streets.
Councilman Petrit was displeased with his soaked pant legs. Officially, “city councilors,” like Petrit, weren’t required to take sides politically.
At least, that was the principle.
In reality, they had to choose a side if they wanted to climb higher—whether running for mayor or aiming for the state senate, they needed backing.
Petrit’s support came from a majority party senator in the state senate, who in turn had connections to even more powerful figures in Congress.
Political directives filtered down the hierarchy, eventually landing on him. He was supposed to hold a press conference today, but the sudden rainstorm had left him irritated. 𝙍𝐚NȪΒЕⱾ
While he might not articulate the wisdom of “entering politics means losing oneself,” he knew he’d given up much when he chose this path, including part of his personality.
In the political circles of a city like Jingang City—an economic powerhouse—personal ability alone wouldn’t take you far.
Aligning yourself with a faction was necessary.
Resources trickled down the ranks, and when you received your share, you were expected to contribute to the team when called upon.
Standing on the soggy stage, feeling the rainwater seep through the poorly sealed seams of his shoes to wrap around his toes, Petrit grew even more annoyed.
Damn politics!
But his expression was as bright as the sunlight breaking through the clouds—dazzling and radiant.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming here. This will be a brief press conference…”
Some reporters had already begun shouting questions, their impatience fueling his simmering frustration. Fighting the urge to smash something, he pursed his lips and continued, “Regarding the recent firefight incident, our investigation team has uncovered some findings that need clarification.”
“First, the stowaways on the ship weren’t all armed militants—those were just a small number, possibly fewer than ten. The rest were illegal immigrants.”
“Second, the death toll among the Coastal Patrol officers was two killed on the spot, with several severely injured. Nearly all the armed militants were eliminated.”
“Seven others died later in the hospital due to a shortage of emergency and surgical doctors.”
“In other words, they could have survived.”
“Finally, I must admit that after the firefight ended, some officers killed approximately 37 innocent civilians out of personal spite.”
“I apologize on their behalf to the innocent victims…”
By the time Petrit reached this point, he knew what kind of storm awaited him, but he was prepared. It was a necessary move to demonstrate to the higher-ups in his faction that he was a responsible and fearless team player.
On the surface, his statements seemed to supplement the investigation, but they were actually undermining the original conclusions.
Firstly, he implied the incompetence of the Coastal Patrol and local Police, pointing out that they had lost eleven officers against fewer than ten militants.
If the attackers had been numerous, the public might have attributed the casualties to the militants’ firepower and professionalism, garnering sympathy for the victims. But now, the public would only think, “How utterly incompetent!”
Secondly, he redirected dissatisfaction and hatred toward the healthcare system by highlighting that most deaths were due to delays in treatment, not direct combat.
The Federation’s resentment toward its medical system and corporations was longstanding, making them a convenient scapegoat.
Lastly, by reframing the fallen officers—whom some were already lionizing as heroes—as villains, he diminished public sympathy for them.
People mourn heroes but don’t extend such feelings to villains.
The aim was to make the public disengage from the issue.
No one likes being deceived, not even those caught up in the heat of a cause. They’d inevitably feel used, becoming indignant.
Petrit knew he’d be at the center of the storm after these remarks, possibly sidelined for some time. But it was also an opportunity—if he weathered this crisis, he’d have a clear path to either a mayoral run or a seat in the state senate.
His bold, controversial statements instantly went viral, plunging the situation into even greater complexity.
Two other city councilors publicly accused Petrit of spouting nonsense without evidence, with the Coastal Patrol even threatening to sue him.
In truth, neither side had solid evidence to substantiate their claims. There had indeed been massacres of innocent stowaways out of vengeance, such as when a patrol officer entered the cabin with a submachine gun, prompting others to cover it up by eliminating witnesses.
Likewise, the claim of delayed medical attention wasn’t entirely baseless. Any survivor who reached the hospital alive wasn’t considered a death at the scene, effectively reducing the immediate liability.
As the factions hurled accusations and traded insults, the Federation’s political theater unfolded in all its absurdity.
According to a survey by the global media outlet Omni, conducted across major civilizations worldwide, 77% of respondents expressed interest in Federation political news—not out of fascination with politics but sheer curiosity about the depths of its ridiculousness.
While some sought to downplay the incident’s severity, others escalated it further.
Soon, people divided into factions, turning the situation into a national pastime dubbed “political brawling.”
No matter how the situation evolved, those destined to suffer still suffered.
Heeding Lance’s advice, Elvin and his group had been sticking together lately. A few days ago, during the peak of tensions, someone had attempted to attack them. However, seeing their numbers—young, strong men—they backed off.
But as the crisis dragged on and the Emperor of the Empire issued increasingly erratic and outrageous demands, animosity toward Imperial citizens within the Federation continued to rise.
Today, when they arrived at the docks, the management office informed them they had to leave.
“I know you’re all good lads, but you’ve seen the situation. They might not be able to trouble you directly, but they’ll come after us,” the manager explained.
“There are already people protesting at our company’s gates, demanding we stop hiring you.”
“And this isn’t personal. Anyone without a social security number or work card is being barred from dock work. We respect and abide by Federation laws.”
The dock worker responsible for job assignments wore a regretful expression. Truthfully, he had a fondness for these undocumented workers.
They were hardworking and willing to do anything, even jumping into sewers to clear clogs. Local workers, on the other hand, made demands and expected extra pay for tasks outside their job description.
But compliance was unavoidable. It was clear to everyone that Jingang City had become the epicenter of multiple competing forces.
Even though the dock company had influential backing, ensuring stock price stability by temporarily laying off undocumented workers was the more practical choice.
Capitalists always knew the right move.
This decisive action made Elvin and his group realize one thing: they were now unemployed.