NOVGO.NET Chapter 43 World of the rich.
Chapter 43: Chapter 43 World of the rich.
John Allen stood before the reinforced glass window of the room assigned to him, his hands resting behind his back as he stared outside.
Every corner of the sprawling estate was built like an impregnable fortress.
The towering walls had been reinforced with rare alloys, while every window was crafted from materials capable of withstanding the scorching sunlight no matter how fiercely it raged.
The gates were even more absurd.
Forged from a special metal that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the world, they looked less like ordinary gates and more like the entrance to a kingdom that refused to fall.
Behind those walls...
Humanity’s elite continued living in comfort.
John’s eyes darkened.
The room he stood in was reserved only for the highest-ranking officials whenever important matters had to be discussed. Moments ago, he had been informed that the General himself had requested his presence.
Requested.
What a joke.
Allen had no intention of attending.
He was still burning with rage over the orders that had nearly cost him his life.
Not only that...
Every single member of his squad had died because of that damned mission.
His friends.
His brothers.
Gone.
And the people responsible were sitting comfortably inside this luxurious estate.
His gaze wandered around the room.
The walls gleamed with polished stone while expensive decorations covered every corner.
Gold.
Silver.
Luxury beyond imagination.
Allen let out a slow breath.
Through the massive glass window, he could see the remains of the Safe Zone.
Or rather...
What was left of it.
The raging sunlight had erased almost everything.
Monsters.
Mutated beasts.
Abominations.
All of them had vanished beneath the devastating heat.
Ironically...
The greatest threat to humanity was no longer the infected.
It was the sun itself.
The thought alone made his chest tighten.
If this continued...
There wouldn’t be much of humanity left.
Anyone caught outside those fortified shelters would simply disappear beneath that horrifying light.
His jaw clenched.
And yet...
This entire disaster only benefited one group.
The rich.
The wealthy.
The powerful.
The people who had enough resources to build places like this.
Perhaps...
When everything was finally over...
They would become the only humans left alive.
The ones who would rebuild the world in their own image.
The thought disgusted him.
A knock echoed behind him.
"Mr. Allen."
A servant stood respectfully by the entrance.
"The meeting is about to begin."
Allen didn’t respond immediately.
Mr. Allen.
Not Commander Allen.
Just...
Mr. Allen.
His fists slowly tightened.
Years of sacrifice.
Years spent risking his life.
Years protecting people who could barely protect themselves.
And this was all he had become.
A disposable pawn.
"This way, Mr. Allen."
The servant gestured politely.
Allen shot him a cold glance before following.
He knew this estate better than most people.
Being led around like a clueless visitor only irritated him further.
The polished marble beneath his boots reflected the ceiling lights so perfectly that it almost looked like water.
Servants moved quietly through the hallways, cleaning surfaces that already looked spotless.
Fresh flowers decorated expensive vases.
Everything looked perfect.
Perfectly untouched.
Outside...
People were dying.
Families were burning alive beneath the scorching sunlight.
Entire cities had vanished.
Yet inside these walls...
The biggest concern seemed to be keeping the mansion beautiful.
Allen almost laughed.
By the time they reached the conference hall, nearly everyone had already arrived.
The enormous table stretched across the room.
Ministers.
Military officials.
Politicians.
Wealthy investors.
Powerful figures from every sector of the country.
Every face carried authority.
Every face carried greed.
Then...
His eyes landed on the man sitting at the head of the table.
The General.
Even seated, the man’s presence dominated the room.
His broad shoulders filled the chair while muscles bulged beneath his neatly pressed uniform.
Despite his age...
He looked frighteningly young.
Like a giant wearing the face of a man.
The General slowly looked around the room.
"Sit."
Everyone obeyed immediately.
Chairs slid backward.
People quietly took their seats.
Allen walked toward the far end of the table and sat without saying a word.
Silence settled over the room.
The General’s gaze eventually stopped on him.
A smile appeared.
One that didn’t reach his eyes.
"Mr. Allen."
His voice sounded unusually warm.
"How are you feeling?"
Allen remained expressionless.
"I heard you were the only survivor from your squad."
The General leaned back comfortably.
"What exactly happened?"
Every conversation inside the room immediately died down.
Dozens of eyes shifted toward Allen.
Waiting.
Watching.
Judging.
Allen stared back at the General.
How should he answer?
Should he explain how the mission had been suicidal from the beginning?
Should he mention how they had all been abandoned?
Should he tell everyone how his friends had been denied entry into the Safe Zone and left outside to die?
No.
He simply wasn’t in the mood.
"Nothing special happened."
His tone remained flat.
"I was just lucky."
Everyone immediately noticed his unwillingness to continue.
Everyone...
Except the General.
"Oh?"
The older man smiled wider.
"Are you sure that’s all?"
He slowly folded his hands together.
"I heard you were given a choice."
Allen’s fingers tightened around the armrest beneath him.
The General noticed.
A faint glimmer flashed through his eyes.
Then he continued.
"Tell me..."
"How did it feel choosing someone close to you..."
"...and leaving them behind to die?"
The room erupted into whispers.
People looked toward Allen with surprise.
Some frowned.
Others quietly moved their chairs a little farther away.
Allen could almost hear the judgments forming inside their minds.
He understood immediately.
The General wasn’t asking questions.
He was cornering him.
Trying to provoke him into speaking.
Trying to destroy his reputation.
Allen inhaled deeply.
He refused to bite.
Not this time.
The General frowned slightly.
"Answer me, Allen."
His voice became colder.
"Or should I assume you’ll make the same decision again?"
Silence.
The General leaned forward.
"How am I supposed to trust someone capable of abandoning his own people?"
"What if one day you decide to open these gates and let those monsters inside?"
That was enough.
Several officials immediately stood up.
Some instinctively stepped farther away from Allen.
The atmosphere inside the conference room changed completely.
John Allen slowly closed his eyes.
Then sighed.
"What exactly do you want from me, General?"
His voice remained surprisingly calm.
"I followed your orders."
"I led my men into a mission that I already knew was suicidal."
"I searched for what you wanted."
"I fought my way through hell."
"I was attacked before even reaching the bunker."
"And when we finally returned..."
His voice cracked.
"...we weren’t allowed inside."
His breathing became heavier.
"You banned us from entering."
"My friends..."
His fists trembled violently.
"They died."
"They fucking died."
The room became deathly silent.
Several people slowly turned toward the General.
The older man simply cleared his throat.
It sounded almost rehearsed.
"I’m sorry that happened."
He spoke without emotion.
"But..."
"This was merely a loyalty test."
A few confused expressions appeared around the room.
The General continued.
"If you had refused to abandon them..."
"If you had insisted on staying with your teammates..."
"I would’ve opened the gates."
"But instead..."
"You chose yourself."
"You failed."
Allen stared at him.
Then...
He laughed.
A bitter laugh.
A broken laugh.
"A test?"
He slowly rose from his chair.
"Are you seriously fucking with me?"
His voice echoed throughout the hall.
"When the obliterating light was seconds away from roasting us alive..."
"You decided that was the perfect time to conduct a loyalty test?"
His laughter disappeared.
His eyes reddened.
"What happened to all that fatherly bullshit?"
"I thought you cared about me."
"I thought you treated me like family."
The room froze.
The General’s face darkened.
Slowly...
He stood.
"You seem to have forgotten something."
His voice became terrifyingly quiet.
"You’ve forgotten who made you."
Allen remained silent.
The General took one step forward.
"I picked you out of the slums."
"I trained you."
"I gave you food."
"I gave you purpose."
"I turned you into Commander Allen."
He narrowed his eyes.
"If I had left you where I found you..."
"You would’ve died years ago."
The words hit the room like a hammer.
Several officials nodded quietly.
The General looked at Allen as though looking down on an ungrateful child.
"I see now."
"I nurtured a snake."
His voice became colder.
"And I won’t allow that snake to betray us."
He raised one hand.
"Guards."
The conference hall doors burst open.
Armed soldiers stormed inside.
"Lock him in the dungeon."
"No food."
"No water."
The guards immediately surrounded Allen.
They grabbed both of his arms.
Allen struggled.
"I didn’t do anything!"
His furious voice echoed through the hall.
"You all have to believe me!"
"He is greedy!"
"He is power hungry!"
"He abandoned everyone!"
"We’re all going to die!"
"None of us are safe!"
But no one moved.
No one defended him.
The officials simply watched in silence as the guards dragged him across the polished floor like a criminal.
His voice gradually faded.
The doors slammed shut behind him.
Silence returned.
Only then...
A slow smile spread across the General’s face.
Finally.
The thorn in his side was gone.
He had grown tired of hearing people praise Allen.
Every successful mission.
Every rescued survivor.
Every compliment eventually found its way to that young commander.
It irritated him.
A mere commander receiving more admiration than the General himself.
Unacceptable.
He could have killed Allen outright.
But that would’ve been too merciful.
No...
First, he would break him.
Strip away every ounce of hope.
Destroy his pride.
Then...
When Allen had nothing left...
He would throw him away like garbage.
The General slowly adjusted his gloves before turning back toward the table.
"Remember this."
His cold voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Never bite the hand that made you who you are."
A faint hiss escaped his lips.
His expression twisted with contempt.
"The poor should learn their place."
His eyes drifted toward the reinforced windows overlooking the estate.
"This new world..."
"...belongs to the rich."
"And it always will."