Chapter 140 – Aspiring to Be the Boss
Henry had already learned about what had just happened in Garbage Town.
He was also a representative and should have had a spot at the meeting.
Even if he was too busy outside, his subordinates would have attended in his place.
His subordinates had informed him of the events, and they were also among those who stayed silent at the time.
The martial law was certainly a good thing, preventing the situation from escalating further, and stopping those agents and merchants from escaping with supplies and a large number of adventurers.
Over time, it would definitely be hard to control, as Garbage Town lacked a centralized power structure to support such stringent policies for long.
But even so, he still found it a bit miraculous.
When he reconnected with Swan, he couldn’t wait to ask, “The martial law was approved this easily?”
“Heh, you think it was easy?” Swan’s voice held a hint of smugness despite his calm tone, “I contacted a lot of agents who are close to me, those with businesses in Garbage Town. Only by smoothing things over could we achieve this outcome.”
Henry sensed a subtle change in Mr. Swan’s attitude toward him: that high-ranking figure, who theoretically held a position far above him, seemed to be trying to make friends with him, attempting to speak more intimately.
It wasn’t flattery, but it was certainly a gesture of goodwill.
This was likely because he had pledged allegiance to the Governor earlier, prompting Mr. Swan to befriend him for smoother relations in the future.
Realizing the twists and turns behind this situation, Henry couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased.
Putting aside these thoughts, Henry continued the conversation, “So… wouldn’t this put Nather in a desperate situation?”
“It’s not impossible,” Swan replied, “but the situation should be manageable.”
“How so? Those agents with businesses, upon hearing that the Governor intends to reclaim all of Garbage Town and implement the New Alliance system, should theoretically oppose this, as their businesses would be repossessed, right? Conversely, those without fixed assets should be the least opposed to the Governor.”
In an unusual display of patience, Swan began explaining the situation in Garbage Town: “On the surface, yes, but with your intelligence, you should think a bit deeper. Those of us with businesses are the ones who truly can’t leave. If we leave, what do we have? Nothing. We lack enough resources and even sufficient personnel willing to follow our orders. Becoming raiders would just make us a minor force.”
“Even if the Governor arrives and seizes all assets, I’ve studied your policies carefully. Those assets, once seized, won’t go unused, right? They’ll be reactivated. We, as the former owners, understand these businesses. So why can’t we transition from company owners to factory managers? Being a factory manager, graded at Level 45, should be a higher status than a regular worker or staff member, right?”
“Sure, being a factory manager, reporting to the so-called Alliance Department of Production, with everything produced no longer belonging to oneself, is not as satisfying as being the owner. But your policies ensure a minimum standard, allowing people to live stable, respectable lives. Trust me, that alone is enough to attract quite a few agents who don’t want to live in constant fear.”
“What’s more, do we have any choice in the matter? Either Garbage Town is destroyed, leaving us with nothing, or we transition from agents to factory managers and administrators. Many people will make that choice.”
“Conversely, those without businesses are the ones who can’t accept the Governor’s arrival. Will the Governor continue to allow large armed forces to remain under their control? When all production is unified under the New Alliance government, will they still be able to make a profit from buying and selling goods? While they still have a chance, they’ll run off with enough manpower. With guns and men, where can’t they carve out a foundation? Even as raiders, they would still be the leaders, living well, with people at their disposal. They’re the ones most unwilling to stay in the Governor’s system.”
After hearing this, Henry seemed to fall into thought.
Swan paused, still with more to say:
“For those of us with property, the only real concern is the treatment of those who previously owned assets in Revival City. Many fear surrendering their assets only to be purged later, just like the executions that took place before the Governor’s speech in Revival City. Honestly, that set a very bad precedent. Your… our Governor seized control of the city quickly but also set a dangerous example.”
At this point, Swan expressed his stance and concerns to Henry, who clearly supported the Governor.
Henry understood; Swan hoped that, through him, the Governor would provide a guarantee.
But that guarantee… Henry felt he couldn’t offer.
And there wasn’t any need to, either.
He responded, “If you truly understood what those executed had done, you’d know they deserved it. They killed the former head of the Old Council, Hodgson, who supported the Governor. They tried to resist the Governor’s entry into Revival City by force and colluded with cultists… with such crimes, they deserved to die. Garbage Town is different from Revival City. If you bring the entire town under the Governor’s command and assist in restoring production without any hidden agendas, then why worry about unnecessary concerns?”
After hearing this, Swan couldn’t be sure if he had gotten what he wanted.
He did feel somewhat reassured, but not entirely.
After all, there was no official guarantee.
But to reach this point was the limit.
The call ended, and Swan, filled with ambition, stood by the window.
His office was in the highest spot in Garbage Town.
Looking down, he felt mixed emotions.
In the past, he’d always strived to climb higher, and after reaching the top, he reached out to grasp more and more.
He had wanted to be the master of all Garbage Town.
Recently, when the Greenskin Beasts had brought havoc upon Garbage Town and he’d heard Henry say the Governor would take over, he thought his dreams were doomed.
But now, it seemed he could achieve his goal from another angle.
After all, Garbage Town was two hundred kilometers away from Revival City. If he did well, could he become the town’s leader? As the highest administrative official, in some ways, he’d be fulfilling his original ambition.
In the past, being Garbage Town’s master meant fighting against others who didn’t align with him. Now, this could be a chance. The Governor would help clear out those obstacles, and he could be the boss of a cleaned-up Garbage Town.
Not a bad prospect!
Once the Governor arrived, he would have to perform well: ensure logistics, manage the reorganization of adventurers, and complete a thorough inventory and transfer of the town’s industries… he had to handle all of it flawlessly.
He mulled over various implementation plans, momentarily lost in thought.
A sound of footsteps from behind brought him back to reality.
Turning around, he saw a handsome young man in a gray combat uniform.
It was Mark Ferry, his confidant, the man he had promoted to manage his most important armed force, the ‘Iron Clock Blade’ Adventurer Corps.
“Boss, the martial law order has been enforced.”
“Good.”
Swan’s voice returned to its usual cold demeanor.
He always kept people at a distance. In his view, maintaining a sense of distance was key to preserving mystery and authority, especially with his subordinates.
Typically, after he said “Good,” Ferry would take the hint and leave.
But today, things seemed a bit different.
Ferry hesitated, then continued, “Nather isn’t backing down; he’s gathering any adventurers he can still control in town. There might be a conflict ahead.”
Swan frowned, looking at Ferry and said, “Didn’t I already tell you? He indeed won’t give up, but he has no chance left. I sent people to cut off communication lines with the front lines, so now only I can connect with them, preventing him from bringing anyone back from the front. The armed forces he can mobilize within Garbage Town total less than ten thousand, and my ‘Iron Clock Blade’ has returned. You all number three thousand, each of you well-equipped. Block the town—no need to eliminate them, just hold until the Governor arrives, and we win.”
“Yes, once the Governor arrives, we win,” Ferry echoed. “And what about us? Just now… were you on the phone with Denison Henry? Did he offer any guarantee?”
“He did. I will be the master of Garbage Town in the future.”
Swan didn’t want to reveal the whole truth, but he believed he was telling the truth.
He would indeed be the master of Garbage Town. He was certain of that.
“And what about us?” Ferry pressed again.
“You?” Swan turned around, scrutinizing Ferry as if seeing him for the first time.
“Yes, us.”
Swan broke into a broad smile, “You all will live very well!”
Then he added, “No more fighting, you can lay down your guns. The factories will need workers, the shops will need attendants, and the ruins’ mines will need scavengers. But by then, scavenging shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking; the Governor will likely clear out those mines. Of course, if you still want to be a soldier, that’s possible too—the Governor’s army will continue to expand. With your experience, you’ll surely rise. Overall, life will be much better by then.”
“Yes… life will be better then…”
Mark Ferry said this aloud, yet without hesitation, he drew his gun.
Swan, who had already sensed something was off with the young man, had his guard up. He quickly reached for his own handgun.
But he was too slow.
He was no longer the young man on the front lines, fighting fiercely with his brothers. The gun in his hand was exquisitely crafted, with intricate engravings—more an art piece than a weapon.
The bullet reached him first, hitting him squarely in the neck.
His body fell backward uncontrollably, and more shots quickly followed, all aiming for his head, neck, and chest.
Only when the magazine was completely emptied did Mark Ferry slowly lower his weapon. Looking at Swan lying on the ground, his body occasionally twitching, he murmured, “Boss, the Governor’s coming, and you’ll be the master of Garbage Town, but the Governor doesn’t need someone like me. All I’d have left is being a worker, a scavenger, or starting as a soldier from scratch—that’s just not fair. Even if you’d lied, telling me there was a bright future, I would’ve believed it. But you couldn’t even do that… Don’t blame me.”
With that, he looked away and left.
A few minutes later, he met Nather in another part of Garbage Town.
Nather, who had been pacing anxiously, froze upon seeing Ferry, staring at him for several seconds before breaking into a grin, “I wanted to see you, but I was afraid to see you too. Now I’m sure—I wanted to see you. So, it’s done?”
“Yes.”
“Great! That old fox Swan! Planning to get us all killed to fulfill his dream of becoming Garbage Town’s master—how despicable! He deserved to die!”
But Mark Ferry wasn’t interested in discussing it further. “Time is short, and I had no time or opportunity to purge all of ‘Iron Clock Blade,’ plus according to Swan, many property-owning agents support him. If we’re going to leave, now’s the best chance—let’s make use of the chaos from Swan’s death to get out quickly.”
“You’re right!” Nather laughed, throwing an arm around Ferry’s shoulder, “Let’s go! We’ll leave right away! From now on, we’re the free eagles soaring above the sands! We’ll hunt for whatever we want to eat! Be a dog for that Governor? Huh? We’ll feast on those who want to be sheep or dogs! Ferry, you’ll be my best brother, and our most important leader! From now on, even if I have only one piece of meat, I’d rather go hungry than let you starve!”
…
Inside Garbage Town, chaos erupted.
The news of Swan’s death had begun to spread in small circles.
The teams enforcing martial law were, of course, also adventurers, mainly ‘Iron Clock Blade,’ with other adventurer teams hired by different agents providing support.
But with Swan dead and Mark Ferry, the commander of ‘Iron Clock Blade,’ suspected of defection, the group fell into a state of brain-dead confusion. Some of the remaining officers had disappeared—they’d run off with Ferry; some were in panic, unsure of what to do, and only a few were still resolutely enforcing martial law.
And among the other property-owning agents, no one immediately stepped forward to take control.
When the several-thousand-strong, nearly ten-thousand-strong force Nather had gathered began to mobilize and didn’t hesitate to open fire on anyone blocking their exit from Garbage Town, they essentially became the only large, organized force in town.
They became unstoppable.
At the start of the breakout, both Nather and Mark Ferry were somewhat nervous, fearing another setback.
But as the vanguard broke through and they followed with the main force out of Garbage Town’s gates, the two of them finally relaxed in unison.
Leaving Garbage Town, reaching the boundless wastelands beyond—it was now inevitable!
But just then, they noticed the pace of the entire group slowing. In front of their vehicles, the crowd grew denser, with people shrinking back, hesitant to move forward.
Nather sensed something was wrong. He grabbed his field radio, shouting, “What’s going on? What’s happening up ahead?”
There was only static, nothing useful coming through.
After a long wait, just as Nather was about to ask again, a voice finally came through:
“Gov… Governor… the Governor is here!”
Nather felt a bucket of ice water poured over him.
Why would the Governor be here?
Wasn’t it supposed to be at least three days before he arrived?
At that moment, another voice came over the radio, “What… what should we do?”
Nather was stunned, unable to think of a solution.
But beside him, Mark Ferry was resolute.
He almost snatched the radio from Nather, shouting, “Fire! Have the vanguard open fire! Everyone, prepare for a breakout!”
“Stop!”
Nather looked at him angrily, instinctively opposing his idea, “What are you thinking?! At this point, do we even have room to hesitate?!”
Nather clenched his jaw, practically grinding his teeth to dust, “We can’t fight… we’ll lose…”
“Now you say we’ll lose?” Mark Ferry’s face twisted with rage, turning slightly to grab Nather by the collar, practically shouting face to face, “I killed my boss of so many years! And now you’re telling me we can’t win?!”
Nather, terrified by both the Governor and Ferry’s menacing expression, stretched out a hand to put some distance between them, stammering, “For… now… now we should scatter, run in all directions… whoever escapes… escapes… once safe, we’ll regroup…”
Hearing this, Ferry seemed to calm down.
He released his grip and asked, “How many can escape? And how long will it take to regroup?”
“A lot will make it out!” Nather quickly calculated, “The Governor’s eager to take over Garbage Town, so as long as we don’t cause too much trouble, he won’t hunt us down fully; some will die, but not too many. Once out, with my influence, rallying the men will be easy. You’ll still be the chief… ugh…”
His words trailed off as gunshots echoed inside the vehicle.
Unbeknownst to himself, Ferry had drawn his pistol and fired several shots into Nather’s stomach.
With his other hand, he clamped down hard on Nather’s neck.
Looking into Nather’s ugly face, Ferry said, “Even now, you’re trying to fool me? If we scatter and flee, you think you can just call everyone back? The wastelands would be full of little raider tribes, each armed and staffed. Why would they listen to you? I fought my way out to be on top, not to play the boss of some small gang! I hate being lied to!”
He’d already forgotten what he’d said to Swan just moments before.
Taking a long breath, he noticed the radio was still on.
But he didn’t care. Grabbing the radio, he yelled, “Everyone, prepare yourselves! We’re gathering our forces! Breaking through together is our only chance! I’m the leader now, so listen to me!”
The other end of the radio remained silent, with no response.
Within Nather’s ranks, Ferry was just a recent “addition,” with neither loyal followers nor authority.
Killing the previous leader and declaring himself the leader didn’t automatically grant him control.