Ch.309044 Work Record – Time of Ecstasy (1)

“I look upon the wasteland where only those who cannot distinguish between pleasure, decadence, and hedonism remain.”

The voice of the wasteland god resonated in the minds of the faithful. No. One must not be deceived. It resonated through the wireless channel.

The “Seekers,” led by El Pastor and wearing patches depicting radiance spreading in eight directions, checked their weapons and recited an ancient verse in response to the revelation.

It was not a revelation but wireless communication. The verse was merely stolen. The voice of reason cried out, but no one listened. All that mattered to them was the paradise that lay just ahead.

“It is our fault. Our great sin.”

“I look upon the sad portraits of the wasteland, tattered and torn apart by those who pursue only decadence and hedonism.”

The wasteland god continued speaking as if ignoring the verse. La Roca spat out a mechanical growl at the voice in her head.

The “Hounds,” wearing patches depicting bloody fists, who were once mostly Strip gang hunters who had joined the cult with Himena, but now followed the saint with the steel body, responded.

La Roca said they were offered to the Bloody Hand, but they were openly called the dogs of the Bloody Hand within the cult. They were cruel and extreme.

However, they were only cruel and extreme enough not to ruin the cult’s pleasure. It was thanks to—or because of—La Roca, who had become what she was now after disobeying El Sueño’s orders, leading them.

“With your blood-stained hands, you rescued us, comforted us, cared for us, laid us down and raised us up, fed and clothed us with love, and we no longer wear sad faces.”

While they recited, followers without full-body prosthetics moved among them, filling the drug injectors attached to the backs of the necks of those with full-body prosthetics with sedatives. They would not go mad.

“I uncover a future where everything rots away in the name of decadence and hedonism, and only the barren wasteland that bears nothing but dust will reign forever.”

The “Zealots,” led by Himena Castello and wearing patches depicting red mint flowers, who were originally mercenaries or security guards from The Bazaar, recited the next verse.

They were proof that the cult was not made up of fanatics. They were practically a sign that most of the cult consisted of people who were enthusiastic about El Sueño’s ideals, not his divinity.

So Himena Castello could not care less that the gang hunters with full-body prosthetics who followed her had become the cult’s most cruel fanatics. There was still hope, after all.

“We willingly become instruments of the task to change that future. We will achieve the vision you have shown us and build paradise anew with our hands. We look forward to the time of joy.”

The voices of Himena Castello and her chosen elite zealots echoed inside the Las Vegas Strip Human Resources Team’s building. The Strip’s HR team had made the worst choice with this.

She knew that El Sueño would purge the HR team once this was over. She didn’t say it aloud. It was their sin, their weakness, so it was only natural.

If they had been kinder, El Sueño wouldn’t have purged them. How had La Roca, whom El Sueño cherished, become such a rag in just three days that she had to change her body?

Himena, the zealots, and the remaining HR forces were waiting in the basement of the HR building. All the buildings were connected underground. The holy war was a blitzkrieg.

If they could quickly move toward the security team’s building and subdue them, most of the work would be as good as done. The other security teams scattered throughout the Strip wouldn’t be a major problem.

Rather than not being a problem… sad things would happen. Once security was disabled from HR, La Roca and the hounds would pour in and literally tear them apart.

The Seekers were tasked with protecting the customers. They were among the smallest of the holy army’s legions, and El Pastor had deliberately selected those skilled in sniping, so they were being used according to their purpose.

As Himena was slowly formulating the plan in her head, El Sueño’s sword was drawn before her eyes. El Sueño appeared in reality, starting with the hand holding that sword. Now even Himena believed it.

And simultaneously, El Sueño’s voice began to be heard from the empty space in front of El Pastor. The fact that the wasteland witch was not visible did not make the Seekers doubt El Sueño’s voice.

The voice of El Sueño heard in front of El Pastor spoke in Mexican Spanish, while El Sueño standing before Himena spoke in English. It was another miracle performed by El Sueño. No. It was closer to a tag team.

“I, El Sueño, the dream of dreamers and savior of The Bazaar, who strikes lightning and makes flowers bloom in the wasteland, hereby declare the Holy War of Joy from this moment on. The Las Vegas Strip is ours!”

“I, El Sueño, the dream of dreamers and savior of The Bazaar, who strikes lightning and makes flowers bloom in the wasteland, hereby declare the Holy War of Joy from this moment on. The Las Vegas Strip is ours!”

All security measures detecting outside intruders to the Las Vegas Strip are turned off with the HR team’s authority.

This was a function normally used to bring in outside personnel, so the duration wasn’t very long. And there would be security team agents monitoring the wasteland.

They needed to move quickly, but fortunately, El Sueño was capable of simultaneous command. He kicked open the waiting room door and rushed into the connected underground space of the building.

By the time a security team employee noticed the flood of footsteps and the flash of a sharp blade before his eyes, El Sueño’s swordplay, light to the point of being cheerful, had already cut him down.

Flash grenades were thrown into the security team’s break room, and while the internal personnel crawled on the floor with their equilibrium shattered by the flash and boom, Himena and the zealots swept them away. It repeats. They head to the surface.

At the same time, security team employees monitoring the wasteland were attacked by something. Before they could respond, they were blown away by shotgun blasts, and only screams echoed through the communication channel for reporting.

There stood the saint with the steel body. The saint who had been resurrected by El Sueño’s miracle after being tortured, flayed, and broken by the Las Vegas Strip was at the vanguard.

There was no need to have El Sueño’s voice heard directly in front of La Roca and the hounds, so El Sueño and his double only appeared before El Pastor and Himena.

A security team manager, whose original job was to guard a single casino, swallowed hard as he heard screams from both sides of the communication channel. The Las Vegas Strip was under attack. From inside and outside.

Then obviously someone had betrayed them. The identity of the traitor was… most likely the HR team. There was no solid evidence yet, but there were rumors that they had been attacked by El Sueño himself.

Did those bastards bring in El Sueño to avoid being purged? Crazy bastards. The manager swallowed his thoughts. First, he needed to go to… headquarters. The customers were not his concern. He shouted into the communication channel.

“Windy Heights security personnel, grab your equipment and retreat to headquarters! I repeat! Security Team 8 in charge of Windy Heights Casino, grab your equipment and retreat to headquarters!”

The problem was… he wasn’t using a voice module. A customer standing next to him, hearing his words, asked in a puzzled and drunken voice.

“Wha, what? If there’s a problem, you should think about protecting the customers, what kind of security team, hiccup, runs away?”

As the security team manager pushed the customer aside irritably and was about to leave, that moment became his last. Gunfire erupted at the casino entrance, and people wearing patches with radiance spreading in eight directions entered.

Customers screamed, but they didn’t spray bullets at them. Rather, they flowed through the customers, focusing on finding other security team members.

The squad leader of the Seekers, who had sent some of his men to the upper floor of the two-story casino, shouted. El Sueño had said that protecting customers was more important than subduing the security team.

“Don’t flee toward the headquarters! Our dream is personally conducting operations at the headquarters. You just saw that the Las Vegas Strip security team won’t protect you!”

That one statement didn’t immediately dispel the customers’ anxiety or make them cooperate with the cult, but it did temporarily prevent them from flooding toward the casino exits. They were safe. For now.

No, they weren’t. Gunfire erupted chaotically from the upper floor, and seeing customers from the upper level starting to come down to the ground floor… the Seekers hadn’t been able to subdue them perfectly in one go.

Nevertheless, the Seekers’ squad leader didn’t panic. As if he had no interest in pointing guns at customers, he shouted a few instructions before running toward the upper floor of the casino.

“Everyone get down! Hide behind pillars, behind the bar, anywhere that can block bullets, and if there’s anyone injured nearby, give them first aid or whatever you can. Don’t leave the casino!”

After he ran up the stairs, another shout was heard from the upper floor of the casino. It was the opening cry of a battle chant. A primitive and effective method… and hearing the response confirmed it.

“El Sueño protects us!”

“Paradise awaits! We’ve identified nine in total! Most are hiding behind pillars, and three are behind that bar over there! We shot one trying to escape through the window, so the customers are safe!”

The crouching customers… could at least feel that the El Sueño cult cared about them a little more.

The statement that customers were safe meant nothing to the Strip security team, but for them, it was a matter to report. The squad leader’s voice continued.

“Surrender! If you surrender, El Sueño will show mercy! Nibbles, McHorn, check the customers lying on the floor to see if they’re alive. If they’re still alive, take them to the first floor for first aid. They’re surrounded over there.”

Their obsession with customer safety was… almost religious and quite pathological. The reason was simple. “The number of dying customers is only two: either none or too many,” their god had said.

So they could spare two of their not-so-numerous squad members to save civilians during combat. But, even if it was just a facade, they were facing a megacorporation’s security team.

They skillfully gathered their personnel and broke through the encirclement, accepting sacrifices, and headed to the lower floor of the casino, looking at the situation and trying to point their guns at customers blocking their way.

Would customers accept a few people getting shot at this point? If only one out of nine people from upstairs barely made it down, would anyone among these many people accept that they might die?

No. Definitely not. Even the Seekers, who believed they were being used for their god’s work, didn’t welcome death, so these ordinary people wouldn’t welcome it either. The Seekers’ squad leader repeated in his mind.

It didn’t end with repetition. After shaking off a Strip security team employee who had tried to stop him from breaking through the encirclement, he took a few steps and threw himself forward. He grabbed the fleeing security team member.

They rolled ungracefully down the stairs and onto the floor, and fortunately, the security team member’s gun barrel was pointed at the ceiling, leaving only bullet marks on the ceiling and pillars.

The Seekers’ squad leader hammered the head of the security team employee he had tackled with his prosthetic fist, spewing hatred for the abominable heretic.

“Die! Fuck, die! El Sueño said! Customers came here looking for decadence and hedonism, but they are not sinners! To show them something better than decadence and hedonism…”

When the struggling stopped, he immediately drew a pistol from his waist, lifted his chin, and fired three shots into the head of the security team employee lying on the floor. Amid the smell of gunpowder and lead, he continued.

“To let them enjoy true pleasure is our job, he said. So, the death of these people… even one is too many.”

The Strip’s security team didn’t have a very clear reason to fight. To live like yesterday? Because they didn’t want to lose their source of income? It was desperate, but this was just their job.

But for El Sueño’s holy army, this was not a job. This was a task. This was a mission to be accomplished. It was about exalting the name of their god and laying the foundation for building paradise.

So they were at least twice as desperate as those fighting for their lives. Can you call a fanatic who speaks the truth a fanatic? Surely you can, but… everything was ambiguous now.

The situation upstairs seemed to be settling down as well. A Seeker squad member with sparks flying from his prosthetic arm after being shot in the shoulder came down carrying a customer who had been shot in the stomach. He needed a blood transfusion, but that was impossible.

He drew a circle in the air as if drawing a dream, then clenched his fist with a hand stained red with the Strip security team’s blood. It was like making the sign of the cross.

After finishing this silent prayer, he inserted an injector into the customer’s stomach. It was a blood modifier obtained from The Bazaar. Of course, it was cheap and counterfeit.

Originally, it was something that couldn’t even be guaranteed to work, but… it worked now. An unstable orange-yellow film created by the preservative began to cover the customer’s stomach. At least the bleeding stopped.

It was simply luck that it worked, but the squad member beat his chest a few times with his bloody fist and shouted in a voice full of joy. To him, this was a miracle.

“Merciful El Sueño has helped! I’ve stopped the bleeding for now… someone please come check his condition!”

Seeing this, the Seeker squad members and their leader opened their hands, drew a circle, and then clenched their fists in the middle of that circle. It looks like nothing but a religious ritual.

As merciful as they were to customers, they were uncompromisingly strict with themselves. The squad leader asks that squad member.

“If you can still use your arm, move to the casino’s external security, McHorn. Don’t think you can get a place in paradise without doing your share. Understood?”

However, far from being hurt by that cold voice, the squad member opened the cover of his prosthetic arm, reconnected a wire, and picked up his gun again. He showed his bloody fist and headed outside the casino.

Spray paint drew a red fist above the casino’s glass doors, and Windy Heights Casino was no longer under attack. The customers now began to judge who was right in this struggle for control.