Beacon of Prosperity

A wave of incomprehensible chatter washed over Zephyr, drowning out his thoughts.

"Okay, okay. Stop!" Zephyr loudly said in English. One or two words are not difficult for him.

But the crowd surrounding him didn't stop chattering and got closer and closer until he had to hold the military knife to his left thigh to prevent any inappropriate incidents from happening. He was worried that someone would pull the military knife if he didn't keep an eye on it.

"I don't speak English. If any of you can speak Korean, please be my translator! Damn it!" Zephyr was confused. He didn't expect socializing to be so difficult. But somehow, he felt that it would be more tiring and troublesome than fighting the Sentinels.

But as the crowd grew narrower and closer together, Zephyr had no choice but to use his physical strength to push and create space so that the crowd would not bump and shove each other.

"Back! Back! Go!" Zephyr said simple English words only briefly because he didn't know how to say 'take one step back and don't jostle'.

A hush fell over the thong. They stared, wide-eyed, as their bodies recoiled from his seemingly effortless push. Zephyr, although not a giant, possessed a strength that relied on his lean frame. A disquieting silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the ragged gasps of those who had stumbled back.

Out of nowhere, a beacon in the storm of confusion sliced through the tense silence. "He means calm down, keep your distance!" A middle-aged woman, Jang Mi-Ran, emerged from the crowd, her voice carrying a hint of authority. Relief flooded Zephyr. A translator, a bridge across the chasm of language.

Mi-Ran approached and said, "I'm not interested in fighting. I just want to confirm your offer earlier. Is it still valid? I can be your translator. But so you know, it's not free."

"Yeah, I know," Zephyr replied in relief.

Mi-Ran tilted her head, a shrewd smile playing on her lips. "No credits, no fancy cars. Just basic needs. Clean clothes and food. You have them?"

"No. I don't have any extra clothes other than tight clothes for the Exo-skeleton. As for outerwear, I only have what I wear. While necessity? I have it, but it's only for my food supply during the trip. So, I can't give you that." Zephyr casually said as if it wasn't a tragedy.

Mi-Ran's smile vanished. "Deal's off, then." She started to turn, her words laced with a quiet finality.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of coins falling on the ground. That made him turn his head out of curiosity. "What do you mean? I already said that I would not accept any form of money other than exchanging goods for my services."

"10 Shards up front. I will pay the remaining 30 Shards later," Zephyr said after throwing ten blue coins.

"Shards? What in the wasteland are Shards?" Mi-Ran threw her hands up in exasperation. "Look, find someone else who-"

But Zephyr interrupted by giving his statement, which made Mi-Ran speechless. "That's comparable to the food needs for one person for a whole day at my place."

Mi-Ran was shocked, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd who understood what was said. The mention of food, a precious commodity, ignited a spark of greed in their eyes. The gleaming Shards become a tangible symbol of sustenance, momentarily overriding logic and manners.

They didn't need to doubt what Zephyr said because, from the cutting-edge technology car alone, they guessed that Zephyr was someone who had sufficient needs.

But before anyone could react, Zephyr's military knife arced through the air, embedding itself with a sharp thud beside the coins. "A warning," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Taking what's not yours will come at a steep price."

Zephyr approached, pulled out the military knife, and said, "Now that I know there are many who understand Korean, I rescind the offer of a translator. Instead, I will explain what I want, and if you convey it to everyone here, I will give you 20 Shards each. I don't lie, and I always keep my word."

Mi-Ran gritted her teeth and came back to herself after faltering. "Money?" she spat. "I told you, it's worthless! How can we be sure those fancy coins hold any value? Paper bills like Won or Dollars are just trash now!"

Two weeks have passed since the cataclysmic event that shattered and disrupted the world. The trust had crumbled, replaced by a desperate reliance on oneself. With the collapse of economies, once-valuable currencies became useless scraps. Daily necessities dwindled, replaced by a gnawing hunger that mirrored their deteriorating physical state.

Initially, hope flickered – whispers of shelters and government aid. But as the days bled into a bleak week, despair set in. The threat of mutated and berserk animals adds another layer of terror to their precarious existence.

Zephyr spread his hands and opened his mouth, "I am the living and real evidence that you need. According to your eyes, which have decreased in quality, am I unhealthy? Am I weak? Do I look malnourished?" He unfurled his outer garment, revealing the sleek black bodysuit beneath. The rippling muscles spoke of a warrior honed by rigorous training, a recipient of the fabled serum.

"This world may have descended into chaos," he continued, his voice steady, "but I stand before you, healthy and strong. Never gone hungry. Now tell me, would someone on the brink of starvation have such a physique? Would I have the resources to travel across this wasteland? Think carefully. I offer you a chance, not empty promises. The choice is yours."

After a moment of silence, he carried on with his words. "What do you think? If you think I'm lying, I have no reason to at all. I could just go and leave you here, starve to death, or be ravaged and torn apart by those rampaging and mutated wild animals."

Zephyr's words struck a chord. A ripple of movement stirred through the crowd. Even those huddled in the shadows beneath the broken Namsan Tower began to inch closer. Logic, long dormant, flickered back to life in their eyes. His health, a stark contrast to their decline, spoke volumes. No coughs racked his body. No telltale sores marred his skin. He was a beacon of prosperity in this desolate world.

"W-We believe. We believe. P-Please don't go!" A voice stammered, thick with despair.

"I'll do whatever it takes!" another cried, his voice trembling with a newfound passion. "I-I'll do what you want, o-okay? But take me where you'll be staying along with the coins. Now, quickly tell me what I have to tell the others. My English is the best here!"

That created a chain reaction. Several people approached and wanted to grab the golden rope that came to them in the dark. Even Mi-Ran couldn't resist the enticement. Even though the offer had changed slightly, it was the same.

A bewildered silence hung heavy over those who didn't understand Korean. They watched, confused, as the crowd surged forward, their faces alight with hope. A murmur of questions rippled through the non-Korean speakers, a tide of uncertainty threatening to engulf them. Some, tempted by the animated scene, hesitated at the edge of the hive, their minds flashing back to Zephyr's forceful actions earlier.

Slowly, the wave of explanation receded. Those who had spoken with Zephyr fanned out, translating his message into a cacophony of languages. Understanding dawned, dispelling the confusion. The reason for Zephyr's arrival, the promise of a haven called the Fortress of Divine Light, became clear.

But no matter how good and attractive the hope was, there were still those who doubted it and evaluated it skeptically. Unfortunately, more than half of them did not want to follow Zephyr's invitation to go to the shelter, the Fortress of the Divine Light.

"Everything translated perfectly," Mi-Ran confirmed, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes. Despite her lingering doubts, Zephyr's presence, his undeniable health, a testament to a functioning society, was hard to dismiss. Rumors of human shelters, whispers carried by teenage refugees long ago, echoed in her mind.

"Hold here," Zephyr instructed, his voice firm. He approached the Swiftwind, gently nudging aside the curious children who swarmed around it. Inside, unseen by the crowd, he accessed his System Inventory and retrieved two boxes filled with military knives. Emerging from the vehicle, he held them aloft, a silent promise of protection. Additionally, he distributed some of his ratios among the messengers who had relayed his message.

The tide was slowly turning. Faces that had been etched with defiance were softening, the allure of a secure future battling the fear of the unknown. A flicker of temptation sparked in the eyes of some who had previously rejected Zephyr's offer. His actions, a calculated display of resources and generosity, were slowly chipping away at their resistance.