Utopian System

Kriz prodded the substance on his plate with a grimace of disgust. "So, what do you all think of this goop?" he asked, his tone tinged with bitterness. "At least the cup of water doesn't taste like anything. I bet even the monsters wouldn't touch this crap if we offered it to them. Is it too much to ask for the cheap 1-point food to at least have some decent flavor?"

Brok grunted in agreement, shoving an empty plate aside. "Yeah, it's disgusting. And look at these portion sizes, there's barely enough to feed a one year old. Aren't they smaller than before?"

Ren frowned as he examined his meal. "You buffoon," he chided, though his tone held a note of affection. "God doesn't alter the food size. You're just getting bigger. Stop wasting points on two plates per meal. With the rumors that our manpower is dangerously close to 100,000, you'll need to save points for when resources inevitably run short."

A tense silence fell over the table at the mention of that worrying rumor. Finally, Elio spoke up cautiously: "Is that true? Do we really have so few men in the army?"

Kriz snorted bitterly. "It has to be. Why else would there have been only three of us in the quad room for the past year? But we all need those three daily mana points just for this slop they call food. If they raise our turret contribution quota..."

"Not to mention the two daily points for breathing clean oxygen up here," Brok chimed in, gesturing to the ceiling with a meaty hand. "The air is absolute garbage this high up on the walls."

Elio nodded slowly, recalling the lightheadedness he'd felt while walking the corridors until he'd cupped his hand over his mouth to breathe.

The guys had warned him not to overuse it and to regulate his breaths carefully. The importance of mana conservation was becoming clearer by the minute. With five points spent just on basic needs, that left only fifteen daily points for everything else.

"If we truly are that close to the limit," he said quietly, "it means there's almost no margin for error left. If our manpower drops below 100,000..."

Ren finished the thought, his usual calm demeanor cracking slightly. "The turrets stop functioning if they don't get their 1000 points. With 1000 turrets, we all have to put in 10 daily points, but if this keeps up..." He trailed off, his expression grave. "They'll squeeze us harder with no chance to save up. If we keep losing more men... then the monsters could get in."

A chill ran down Elio's spine at the thought. The memory of the vast horde of writhing creatures massed beyond the wall flashed through his mind, an endless, nightmarish threat, barely held at bay by the turrets' power.

Kriz clenched his fists in frustration. "Damn, this is insane. How the hell did we let things get this bad? What the fuck have those privileged families been doing all this time? Just stealing young women and not even providing decent support stipends to families who lose men."

"Robbing us blind, that's what they've been doing," Brok growled. "Hoarding all the excess mana for themselves while the rest of us have to make do with scraps. Their 'saving for manpower shortages' spiel is pure bullshit."

Ren shook his head. "It's not that simple. They're the ones in charge of maintaining the mana flow and ensuring there's enough for the turrets. If there's a deficit, they're the ones who have to make up for it."

"Yeah, sure," Kriz scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Like they really care about anything other than filling their own balance. Mark my words, they'll make us put in 15 points each before long. You'll see."

Elio remained silent, he was happy to have a "full" meal in a long while but now, thinking over the implications… If the rumors were true, he would soon be unable to save the 5 daily points he had hoped to set aside.

The prospect of accruing the 1000 points for the disposable fire sword in 7 months seemed to be slipping away. But no, the situation was far worse than that. It wasn't just his own hopes of advancing in the Book System that were at stake, but the entire city's safety.

Suddenly, Ren's voice broke through his musings. "Hey Elio, you alright? You're looking a bit pale."

Elio blinked, realizing he had been unconsciously holding his breath. He cupped his hand over his mouth and generated some oxygen, exhaling slowly before nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."

"Well, stop thinking so hard," Kriz said, shoving his empty plate aside with a clatter. "At this rate, you're gonna burn through all your mana with that overactive brain of yours."

Brok snorted a laugh, but Elio couldn't bring himself to join him. His mind was too preoccupied trying to make sense of the situation.

"Guys," he said quietly, his tone serious enough to draw their full attention, "if things really are that dire, don't you think we should be doing something about it?"

The other three looked at him curiously, and Elio continued: "I mean, if our manpower keeps dwindling, eventually there won't be anyone left to operate the turrets. What happens then?"

A somber silence fell over the table as they considered that terrifying possibility. Finally, Ren spoke up in a grave voice:

"You're right, Elio. We can't just sit and watch as everything crumbles around us. We need to take action."

"Like what?" Brok asked skeptically. "What are we supposed to do? We're just a handful of recruits."

"Shouldn't we let the women help out if there are so many of them?" Elio said.

Kriz let out a derisive bark of laughter. "Let the women contribute mana too? Come on, we all know they don't have the stomach to handle Level 2. Let them take care of the children."

Brok and Ren chuckled, shaking their heads at the outlandish idea. Elio frowned, feeling frustration growing inside him. The women were just as strong, if not stronger than them, he recalled his mother's resolute gaze.

"I'm serious!" he insisted, his voice rising slightly. "The system equalizes men and women's strength anyway. If we don't do something, what will happen when there aren't enough men left to man the turrets?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table as they considered that terrifying possibility. Brok spoke up in a grave tone.

"Maybe the men should try advancing to the Book's third level."

Ren scoffed skeptically. "Are you out of your mind? Risk our lives with only a 40% chance of success? And we're not even mentioning the exorbitant cost of the disposable fire sword... Statistically, we'd be in an even worse deficit."

"At least we'd have a chance," Brok insisted, his jaw set stubbornly. "It's better than just sitting and waiting for the monsters to devour us."

Ren shook his head. "Forget it... It'd be suicide for the city. 40,000 men with 30 points is way less than 100,000 with 20 points."

Elio remained silent, considering their options. Suddenly, an idea crossed his mind.

"Maybe..." he began slowly. "Maybe the odds of success could be higher if the population had more information about the second and third levels."

The other three looked at him curiously, and Elio went on: "The leaderboard updates tomorrow but I'm sure my time defeating the Water Monster will be a record. Think about it, if the way I beat the Water Monster gets out there, it could raise the success rate… and that was thanks to the knowledge my father taught me. If I could apply his unorthodox strategy to the third level and it works..."

"What do you mean?" Ren asked with a furrowed brow. "Do you know something the rest of us don't about the third level? High level intel is costly and secretive, you could even sell it."

Elio hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "My father… He passed the third level, and forbade me from revealing what he knew until I achieved it myself… Before he died several years ago, he taught me everything he knew about the first three challenges, and he used highly unorthodox strategies."

A stunned silence fell over the table as the other three processed this revelation. Finally, Kriz spoke up in an incredulous voice.

"Hold up, you're saying your old man passed the third level? Who the hell was he?"

"And how'd he do that? Only 0.02% of the city is level 3." Ren pressed, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What was his strategy?"

Elio shook his head. "I can't tell you the full details. Not until I get the chance to test his approach myself. I can tell you how I did in the second one though."

"What do you mean?" Brok narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Before Elio could respond, a mocking voice sounded behind him, causing him to turn. "Your father beat the third level?" There stood Varick, flanked by his usual goons and holding a tray laden with exquisite delicacies that made their gray mush look even more pathetic by comparison.