Devon let out a heavy sigh, looking at Lohan with a mixture of disbelief and a hint of doubt.
He leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper beneath the buzz of the other students’ conversation and the classroom’s air conditioning.
"Man, I forget that not everyone here grew up listening to our grandparents’ horror stories. But what you see out there, that mist of sulfur and metal we call air, isn’t just ’pollution.’ It’s almost like the residue of a defeat..." Devon began, his eyes fixed on the table, but his mind clearly elsewhere.
Lohan remained silent, listening with interest.
Despite having been in this world for nearly a month, he knew very little about it.
With so many different planets under the Human Federation, the history was so vast that it was difficult for anyone to keep up without instruction.
Every place had gone through so much, and he, as an "outsider" even on the planet he lived on, had never cared much to understand that history.
But now, with someone willing to tell him about it in an interesting way, in a context that piqued his interest, Lohan was eager to hear it.
"Fifty years ago, this planet wasn’t so... divided," Devon continued. "Although the culture of Upper and Lower Zones already existed here, just as on other planets, the Lower Zone was the industrial heartland. We refined fuel, worked to extract the planet’s resources, and even participated in producing the technology that allowed the Upper Zone to literally rise above the clouds. Back then, they promised that progress would come to us too, but influenced by the culture of the Zones, many Upper Zone businessmen took these achievements as their own and abandoned us."
Devon paused, his eyes darting toward the group of heirs to major Upper Zone corporations.
"The first war began when the people down below realized we were being suffocated on purpose to sustain their paradise. Thus arose the ’Filter Revolt’, a stupid name, I know, but what war hasn’t been? Our ancestors shut down the machines, cutting off the energy supply completely. For a week, the Upper Zone trembled in the dark. They sent mediators, promised reforms... but it was all a distraction. While we were negotiating, they were finishing construction on the Atmospheric Domes," he said, pointing out the window.
Through the glass, you could see the Atmospheric Dome covering the college, completely isolating the polluted air outside and making the indoor environment here much more pleasant and livable.
This surprised Lohan quite a bit.
"Before this war, there was still very strict control over waste and environmental pollution, with people not even needing filter masks to breathe, but as soon as the domes were ready, they felt self-sufficient enough not to need to negotiate with us, and they ceased negotiations."
"By controlling the money and resources coming from other planets, they were able to activate the purification protocols only on their side and let the chemical waste, which had already ’wasted’ so much money to treat, saturate our side to lethal levels. Thousands died of acute respiratory failure in less than 48 hours. It was a massacre they caused without firing a single bullet."
Devon clenched his fist tightly, the skin on his knuckles turning white.
"Since then, we’ve been living on crumbs. To survive, we need Respiratory Filters that they control, both the purchase of these masks from other planets and the technology to manufacture them. To survive, we provide cheap labor so they can continue their luxurious lives. But now, bro... I feel like the rules are about to change. Ever since Elysium emerged, my group and I have noticed that the need for respirators is dropping drastically."
He looked directly at Lohan, with a confident gaze and flames shining in his eyes.
"But it wasn’t just us who noticed this. They’ve also noticed the potential that a rare Base Player holds. If a kid from the Lower Zone awakens an Epic or even Legendary Race, he’d become a weapon they can’t control. And given the hatred they feel for us, and knowing we feel the same for them, they know that weapon will be pointed right at their heads."
"That’s why they’re hunting the ’Potentials.’ They want to ’hire’ us before we realize we no longer need their masks to breathe. And if we don’t sell out... well, they know how to be persuasive."
Lohan felt the Mana coursing hot through his human veins, remembering how he’d felt the "sweet" air in college and how his own body was beginning to purify the pollution around him.
He realized Devon was right: he was a walking purifier, a beacon of power that the corporations wouldn’t allow to shine beyond their control.
"I see," Lohan murmured in a cold voice. Despite his close collaboration and friendship with Isabella Vance, he knew that this relationship was limited solely to the two of them.
If someone more powerful and influential in the Vance Group took an interest in him and had other ideas, there was nothing he could do.
Despite the great potential of his Dual Mythic Base, both his Race and Class were slow-growing and would only flourish in the Late Game.
But with the way things were developing, perhaps he could attract the attention of dangerous adversaries before his Base had a chance to flourish.
Seeing Lohan’s expression shift subtly, Devon felt excited, sensing he’d achieved a major goal, and extended an invitation.
"How about it, Lohan? Why don’t you come with me to meet my group today after class? If anything happens to you in the Lower Zone, we can lend a hand."
Hearing this invitation, Lohan was genuinely tempted. Since Isabella was so powerful in the real world, getting too close to her and relying on her resources could be a double-edged sword.
It could serve both as an impenetrable shield and as a stage that would expose him to the gaze of various vultures.
But if he could handle these problems on his own, or with the help of people like him, perhaps it would become easier.
On the other hand, he didn’t know to what extent getting close to these people would be good for him, as it might drag him into a war he wasn’t even sure he wanted to fight...