Apocalyptic Wasteland Simulator

The silence outside stretched on for a long moment. Eventually, the man could no longer bear the stalemate. With an external enemy present, he had no choice but to relent first, his voice dropping to a low, placating tone. "Alright, my Natural Archbishop, there’s no need for us to fight. Let’s just say I was wrong. Honestly, we both know what the other is like. There’s no need to keep up this charade. You don’t really believe your ’god’ will actually return, do you?"

The man had expected his compromise to be met with concession, but his words only seemed to drive the woman into a deeper frenzy.

"Markel, if it weren’t for God’s arrival, you’d still be a rat in the gutter, eating disgusting trash and living a life worse than a dog’s! You have what you have today because of him, yet you show no gratitude.

"Your heart is no longer devout, and God will abandon you. As for me, God once told me that when He reactivates His battle armor, it will signal His imminent return."

Markel looked at Monica’s pious expression, the fire in his own heart flaring beyond his control. He stared at the woman who was once his beloved, the memory searing him: to survive, he had abased himself, offering her to that man while she watched in disbelief. Whenever he recalled that moment, his heart twisted as if stabbed by a knife.

"Enough! Don’t say another word!" Markel snapped. "I’m telling you, it’s been three years. Your ’god’ is not coming back. You should be thinking about yourself. The Mechanical Legion is coming. If you don’t evacuate now, you will die here. When that happens, your title as Archbishop of the Naturalist Sect won’t mean a thing to those hunks of metal."

The cruel reality of their situation finally began to sober Monica. Though she remained God’s faithful servant—so faithful she would offer her own body—she knew she must preserve this humble vessel to await His arrival.

"Then tell me," she said, her voice steady now, "why can’t I take God’s battle armor with me?"

Markel had no idea how to deal with this foolish woman. If it weren’t absolutely necessary, he wouldn’t have bothered engaging with her at all. His patience was wearing thin. If not for her usefulness in placating the faithful, he wouldn’t be wasting his breath. For some reason, even though he was the leader of the radical faction in the Natural Church, the combatants still held a deep-seated reverence for this ’god’. As a non-believer, he found it completely baffling.

"We can’t take it. If we could, I wouldn’t be wasting my time trying to convince you," Markel said, his voice strained. "Our scouts report the Mechanical Legion is less than a hundred kilometers away. That means we have less than three hours to evacuate, and you want me to bring along that useless lump of metal?"