My Invincible Defense: Traversing the Endless Worlds

Cool Prophet was a mysterious figure, possibly connected to the World Nucleus.

The Radiant Path held many secrets. As a technological pioneer, Cool Prophet had every reason to investigate them. If Finn wanted information on Cool Prophet, asking the city lord, Congreve Murphy, might be the most direct route.

Finn climbed the steps of the administrative center. Two military police guards crossed their rifles in front of him, bayonets snapping out from beneath the barrels.

They asked coldly, “Who are you? Where do you come from? Where are you going?”

What a deeply philosophical question… Finn froze for a second, then answered, “I am myself. I think, therefore I am. I come from where I came, and I go where I must go.”

The two guards exchanged a look. The taller one said in shock, “Now that is profound.”

The shorter, stockier guard nodded hard, full of admiration. “It tells us absolutely nothing, but somehow it still sounds reasonable.”

The taller guard frowned in thought. “Since you answered that, I’ll ask another question. Get it right, and I’ll let you pass. Get it wrong, and I’ll shoot you dead.”

Are these two actually insane? Finn thought, speechless. Still, he asked, “What question?”

The taller guard spoke each word slowly, with dramatic rhythm. “What has five legs in the morning, three legs at noon, and four legs in the evening?”

“Huh?” Finn frowned. That leg count was obviously wrong.

The riddle reminded him of the Sphinx’s puzzle from Greek mythology, except the Sphinx’s version went four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening—and the answer was a human.

Morning referred to infancy, when a person crawled on hands and feet—four legs. Noon meant adulthood, walking upright on two legs. Evening meant old age, using a cane—three legs.

But what kind of thing had five legs in the morning?

Click-clack, click-clack... The sharp tapping of high heels echoed down the hallway.

A strikingly beautiful female officer in a green uniform stepped out through the doorway. She glared at the two men and snapped, “Stuart, Gracie! If you keep blocking visitors with your ridiculous questions, I’ll report you to the military director and have you both dismissed!”

“Sorry!” The two guards immediately apologized to Finn and stepped aside. “Please, go right in.”

Once inside the administrative center, Finn still couldn’t help asking, “So what’s the answer?”

The taller guard grinned. “The answer is ‘a man.’ Men have a third leg, so in the morning—that is, as a baby crawling on all fours—you’ve got five legs. At noon, adulthood, walking on two legs plus the third makes three. In old age…”

Finn: “…”

“This crude joke isn’t funny,” the female officer said coldly, shooting the taller guard a stern glare. He immediately shut his mouth.

In the first-floor lobby, she pointed at a large signboard. “Different offices handle different matters. To apply for a Refuge City residence permit, go to Room 11 on the third floor. To install a sewage recycling system, go to Room 23 on the fifth floor…”

“I need to see your city lord, Congreve Murphy,” Finn said bluntly.

The female officer looked him up and down with cold eyes. “The city lord is extremely busy. He won’t meet some random stranger with an unclear background.”

Finn took out the envelope. “I have a handwritten letter from Darius Smith, city lord of Black Mountain. I believe that once City Lord Congreve Murphy reads it, he’ll agree to meet me.”

At the mention of Darius Smith’s name, the female officer’s expression softened. She carefully accepted the envelope, examined it closely, and said, “It’s genuine—the Black Mountain seal. Are you an envoy from Black Mountain?”

“No.” Finn shook his head. “But I believe I’m qualified to meet your city lord.”

She tucked the envelope away. “If Darius Smith’s handwriting is confirmed authentic, Ironatom will welcome you as an honored guest. I’ll report to the city lord immediately.”

She turned and left, high heels clicking as she walked with a slight sway. A short while later, she came back down the stairs and announced, “The city lord is willing to see you. Please follow me.”

Darius, the city lord of Black Mountain, commanded considerable prestige. Once the letter’s authenticity was verified, the female officer’s attitude became noticeably more respectful.

Under her guidance, Finn made his way to the top floor of the administrative center.

They passed several heavily armed guards along the way. These men stood solemn and upright, backs straight as spears—nothing like the two jokers at the entrance.

The female officer pushed open a thick oak door, revealing a spacious conference room. Bright light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a large solid-wood table stretched across the center of the room.

Behind the table sat a hunched old man with white hair and a white beard. He rested his interlaced fingers in front of him, and his eyes shone with sharp intensity.

“Guest from Black Mountain, since you’re worthy of a personal letter from Darius Smith, tell me—what do you need?”

Finn sat down at the table. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he went straight to the point. “I want to know Cool Prophet’s story, especially the black iron box he left behind.”

“Cool Prophet was a great man of Ironatom,” Congreve said slowly. “A brilliant scientific pioneer who brought light to the wasteland.”

Finn frowned. That wasn’t the answer he wanted.

Lambert had said Cool Prophet was active during his childhood. The white-haired old man sitting before Finn had lived in the same era. Congreve should know far more than that.

Congreve unfolded the letter, put on a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses, and carefully read Darius’s handwritten note.

After a long moment, he set it down and spoke in a frail voice. “Darius believes you’re a mysterious but trustworthy person. You saved his daughter and made great contributions to Black Mountain. There’s no harm in telling you the truth.”

He removed his reading glasses and studied Finn with cloudy eyes. “Do you want to know what Cool Prophet was really like?”

Finn nodded solemnly. “I do.”

Congreve sank deeper into his sofa chair and half-closed his eyes. As he recalled the past, a faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, deepening the wrinkles on his face. In a slow, measured tone, he began:

“Cool Prophet was a high-IQ guy who was brain-damaged.”

“Brain-damaged?” Finn asked in surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

Congreve chuckled. “Of course, calling him ‘brain-damaged’ is just a figure of speech. Cool Prophet wasn’t actually sick. He simply did a lot of strange things that none of us could understand.”

“For example?”

“Nuka-Cola? You’ve had it before, right? It’s a specialty of our Refuge City. Why use precious water resources to produce a drink with such a weird taste? That was all Cool Prophet’s idea.”

Now Finn understood. The reason Nuka-Cola from the Fallout games existed here was Cool Prophet.

Congreve continued in a leisurely tone, drifting back into the past:

“Back then, half the city couldn’t get clean water. People fell ill every day from drinking dirty water. But Cool Prophet still insisted on using forty percent of our purified water to make Nuka-Cola.

“When I was young, I worked as his assistant. I asked him why he was doing this—why waste resources on something so pointless? Cool Prophet simply said, ‘Without Nuka-Cola, it wouldn’t feel like the wasteland anymore.’

“I thought to myself, we were already fighting for survival every day, battling mutated beasts and clashing with savage mutant gunmen. Wasn’t that enough of the ‘wasteland feel’? Why did we need Nuka-Cola on top of it?

“Of course, the ridiculous things Cool Prophet did went far beyond just this one…”