This is the last stand of our entire civilization!

[You temporarily resolved the conflict between the wanderers and miners, but the ordeal left you mentally and physically exhausted.]

[Your stress value has significantly increased, now at 150/100.]

[You have triggered a stress collapse event—]

[You have acquired a temporary trait: Confusion (Gray)]

[Confusion: The future and responsibilities of the lower district weigh heavily on your shoulders, and the immense pressure is suffocating. You find yourself at a crossroads, unsure whether the people of the lower district will walk towards salvation or fall into the abyss. Until this trait is resolved, you will have difficulty making autonomous decisions, and your stress value will increase daily.]

Confusion... 

Seele sighed as she read the text on the screen. Confusion was to be expected. In fact, she encountered this event in the previous simulation. Due to the scarcity of resources in the lower district, when she managed to unite the robot settlement, the wanderers also flooded into Panyan Town, causing some conflict. But at that time, having controlled the Underground Fire for about six months and having trained a strong guard, she successfully suppressed the conflict without significant casualties.

Still, she had a stress breakdown and acquired the "Confusion" trait. However, before she completely succumbed to confusion, Ron arrived in the lower district, opened the passage to the upper district, allowing the people of the lower district to return to the surface. The conflict was thus resolved, her stress relieved, and the confusion trait disappeared.

But this time... there's no way to replicate the previous simulation.

This is... troublesome.

Seele frowned slightly as new text appeared on the screen:

[Your confusion and bewilderment left you feeling powerless, subconsciously seeking out the most capable person you know to help you.]

[Under Ron's guidance, you confided your confusion to him.]

The text faded, and a new scene emerged:

In the dimly lit room of the inn, the atmosphere felt somber. Seele and Ron sat across from each other at a table, Seele looking lost as she spoke to Ron:

"In the face of this situation, what should I do?"

Seeing Seele's melancholic expression, Ron stood up, gently plucking a "butterfly" fluttering near her. He watched the intricate illusion of imaginary energy flutter its wings in his hand, leaving ephemeral trails as it flew into the shadows and disappeared.

Ron smiled and, seemingly out of nowhere, asked Seele, "Seele, why do butterflies fly?"

Seele was taken aback, not understanding why Ron was changing the subject instead of giving a direct answer. However, after a moment of thought, she earnestly replied, "Why do they fly... Because they want to soar into the sky?"

"That's not it."

Ron shook his head with a faint smile, watching the butterfly illusion disappear into the room's darkness. "That's just romantic thinking. We all desire to leave the cramped underground and see the clear blue sky, to walk in an Eden flowing with milk and honey... But that's not achievable just by wanting it."

Seele felt a bit bewildered, confused, and asked, "Then... what do you think?"

Ron's smile faded, replaced by a stern and cold expression:

"Because they must fly."

"When the Antimatter Legion burns Jarilo-VI, and the Stellaron's cataclysmic cold descends, only free butterflies can escape predetermined destruction."

"We are not saviors; no successors will surpass us, flying higher than we ever could."

"In the face of the apocalypse, we are merely the last remaining, weak insects."

"Birds have their way of living, and butterflies have theirs—"

"We must break free from our cocoon, flap our brilliant wings... As the last flame of civilization, even if we soar and explode in the sky, it should be glorious!"

As he spoke, Ron suddenly grabbed the table knife and stabbed it deeply into the table, embedding it several inches in.

"Seele, we can't afford to be indecisive."

His words were as cold as the winds on a distant ice field, making Seele shiver:

"They are like the cocoon trapping us, weights on our wings..."

"Only by removing these burdens can we fly higher and farther, escaping this planet's final destruction!"

Seele hesitated, "But... is this really the right way?"

"I don't want to treat the people of the lower district so harshly... I was a wanderer when I was a child. I understand why the wanderers are acting this way."

"They are just trying to survive; none of them are truly at fault. There must be a gentler way to handle this..."

Ron shook his head, interrupting Seele:

"They aren't wrong, but does that make them right?"

"Saving the world isn't like inviting someone to dinner; it involves bloodshed!"

"I know you understand them; you care about all the people in the lower district... You are kind, Seele."

"But just as wanting to fly won't make it happen, kindness won't save Belobog either."

"Leaders have their way of doing things too."

"Take up your scythe, Seele."

Ron picked up the table knife, demonstrating for her:

"This is our civilization's last stand."

"Our blades... must be bloodied."