Chapter 111: Side Story: Darkest Bizarre Adventure (1)
"You called me back… just to test this crap?"
"Yeah… pretty much." Satria scratched his head, flashing an awkward grin. "You know this thing could be dangerous if we don't test it first. At the very least, I need an SNI certification from you. Please, brother! I wanna use this for a vacation with the others. Imagine if we suddenly got isekai'd into Warhammer or the SCP Universe—not exactly my idea of a relaxing getaway."
Darkest gave him a deadpan stare. "So basically… you want me to be the lab rat? If something goes wrong, I get screwed while you sit pretty? You bastard."
"Yee, bro… You're my clone, aren't you? If you run into some cosmic horror that you can't handle, just run. Simple as that. Oh, and while you're at it, upgrade the portal gun if you can. Mark down any good vacation spots, pick up some high-level techniques if you find any, bring back souvenirs we can sell for a profit, and, uh… also, check if there are any worlds with good real estate investments—"
Darkest cut him off with a sigh. "Right. So, I'm basically your isekai tour guide, business scout, and errand boy. What's next? You want me to pull a magic item out of my ass like I'm Doraemon?"
He crossed his arms, staring at original, who was grinning like a smug businessman.
This… This was what being a corporate employee must feel like. Mountains of work, a joke of a salary, and a boss who acted like this was all perfectly reasonable.
And yet, against all logic, Darkest sighed and said:
"Fine. Just this once."
•
Darkest stepped through the portal and found himself in a desolate wasteland. The sky was an eerie, sickly yellow, with thick clouds choking out the sun. Ruined buildings stretched endlessly, their skeletal remains barely standing against the howling winds. Radiation hung heavy in the air, and grotesque, mutated creatures roamed the landscape.
"Where the fuck am I?!" Darkest muttered, stepping forward cautiously. He quickly checked his surroundings, but thanks to his natural immunity, the radiation posed no threat. "Great. Just great. First mission, and I land in a post-apocalyptic nightmare. Typical."
Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed through the ruins. A towering mutant, its body a grotesque fusion of flesh and bone, lunged at him with terrifying speed.
Darkest instinctively raised his hand to obliterate it with his power—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A barrage of gunfire tore through the air, riddling the creature's skull with bullets. It let out one last gurgled screech before collapsing to the ground.
Darkest turned to see a figure in red power armor approaching, the smoking barrel of his rifle still pointed at the fallen mutant.
"You're welcome, comrade!" the armored man called out with a booming voice.
Darkest frowned but nodded slightly. "I didn't need your help, but… thanks anyway. Who are you?"
The man slung his rifle over his shoulder. "I've come from a faraway land, traveling across continents in search of survivors. And to my surprise… I found you. Are you a native of this place?"
"No," Darkest replied, eyeing the soldier warily. "I'm a visitor, same as you."
The soldier stiffened slightly, a hint of curiosity in his posture. "Then… where do you come from?"
"Indonesia. A country in the SEA region."
There was a brief silence. Then, to Darkest's surprise, the soldier's expression lit up.
"Indonesia?! My friend, that's wonderful! Your country is one of Russia's greatest allies! Wait… are you mixed blood? No matter!" He suddenly leaned in, scanning Darkest from head to toe. "But where is your power armor? This land is extremely dangerous! Without proper protection, you'll be contaminated by the radiation!"
Before Darkest could respond, the soldier gestured urgently. "Come! Follow me! Quickly! We need to get you geared up before this wasteland eats you alive!"
•
The two moved cautiously through the ruined city, navigating through collapsed buildings, irradiated wastelands, and the occasional pack of mutated creatures. Each step echoed through the silent ruins, a ghost of the world that once was.
Eventually, they arrived at a heavily fortified Soviet bunker—its red star still faintly visible on the rusted steel doors. The soldier punched in a security code, and with a loud clank, the heavy doors groaned open, revealing the bunker's dimly lit interior.
Inside, the soldier rummaged through a storage area before letting out a triumphant laugh.
"Hahaha! You're in luck, my Indonesian comrade! I have a spare suit of power armor just for you!"
Darkest inspected the bulky red armor. As soon as he slipped it on, a strange sensation washed over him.
"For some reason… I can feel the taste of communism seeping into my bones." He flexed his fingers, testing the armor's mobility. "Now, tell me—who are you really, and what the hell happened to this world?"
The soldier grinned. "All in due time! First, sit on the Communist Sofa and watch a classic Soviet film with me."
"No. That sounds like blatant brainwashing."
"Hah! You're sharp! Very well, then! Here—have some Vodka Stalin Special! Finest drink of the Motherland!" The soldier placed a bottle and two glasses on the table before suddenly hesitating. "Ah, wait. I forgot to ask—are you Muslim? If I remember correctly, Muslims are forbidden from drinking alcohol, yes?"
Darkest paused, then smirked. "Yes… it's true. But one or two glasses… maybe it's okay?" He removed his helmet and grabbed the glass.
The soldier roared with laughter. "Hahaha! You're a bit of a troublemaker, aren't you?! Go on then—enjoy this rare treasure while it lasts! To new friendships!"
The two clinked their glasses together.
"Na zdorovie!"
The vodka burned its way down Darkest's throat, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. The soldier grinned, clearly amused by his reaction, and poured another round.
As the night stretched on, the bunker was filled with laughter and conversation. The vodka flowed freely, loosening tongues and stirring up old memories.
The soldier spoke of his past—his pride in serving the Soviet Union, the camaraderie among his brothers-in-arms, the brutal cold of Siberian training camps. Yet, beneath his words, there was a lingering sorrow.
Then, Darkest asked the inevitable question.
"So, you were a Soviet soldier? From before the war?"
The soldier's expression darkened. He swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at it as if it contained the answers to his regrets.
"Yes… I was a sergeant in the Red Army. I served my country with pride. But in 2077, the Great War happened. And everything changed." He exhaled deeply. "The world ended in fire. Nuclear bombs fell, entire cities vanished. And in the end… no one won. There was nothing left to win."
Darkest leaned back. "So… your country is gone? How regretful. What are you doing here, then? This place isn't even Russia. The climate's all wrong."
The soldier chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Yes… Russia is no more. Just like America, China, and the rest of the world. I came here searching for something—something that might help rebuild civilization. Or, at the very least, an antidote to the radiation that's slowly killing what's left of humanity."
Darkest's eyes narrowed with interest. "An antidote? You think something like that exists?"
"I don't know. But I have leads. There's a research facility deep in the wasteland that may hold the key." The soldier's tone grew grim. "Unfortunately, I doubt I can reach it on my own. My body… it's already halfway to becoming a corpse thanks to all this radiation. It's a miracle I can even talk to you right now."
Darkest smirked. "If it's just getting you there, that's easy. Show me the location, and I'll assist you."
The soldier's eyes widened. "You're serious?!"
Darkest nodded. "Yes. But let's just say… I have my own reasons."
The soldier didn't question him further. Instead, he grabbed an old, tattered map and spread it across the table. His finger pointed to a red-marked location far beyond the ruins.
"This… is where we need to go."
Darkest's grin widened. "Then let's get started."
•
They cautiously entered the bunker, their footsteps echoing through the hollow corridors. The air was stale, thick with dust and the lingering scent of rusted metal. Faint emergency lights flickered overhead, barely illuminating the long-forgotten facility.
The soldier moved with practice ease, scanning their surroundings. "There should be a control room around here somewhere... Ah, here we go."
They stepped into a large chamber filled with aging computer terminals and dimly glowing monitors. A massive, tattered American flag hung on one of the walls, its colors faded but still a stark reminder of the past.
Without hesitation, the soldier approached a nearby console and began typing rapidly. Lines of old-world code flickered across the screen as he worked to bypass the security protocols.
Darkest crossed his arms. "What exactly are you doing?"
"Just accessing some data, comrades. I want to see what kind of tech these capitalists were hoarding before everything went to hell."
Suddenly, the entire room flickered to life. Sirens wailed, and a robotic voice crackled through the speakers, its monotone echoing through the bunker.
{Warning: Unauthorized access detected. Security measures activated}
The soldier's fingers froze over the keyboard. His eyes widened. "Brother, we've got company. Get ready!"
A series of metallic clanks reverberated down the hallway. Heavy, mechanical footsteps approached, growing louder with each step. From the darkness emerged several humanoid figures clad in bulky, battle-scarred American power armor. Their crimson-lit visors locked onto them like hunting sensors.
Darkest sighed. "Tch. Typical Fallout security response."
The armored figures raised their weapons, energy barrels humming to life.
"Hold on." Darkest took a step forward, his muscles tensing. "Let me handle this."
In an instant, he disappeared from view. The next moment—BOOM!—a shockwave rippled through the room.
"Tempest Leg: Omnislash!"
Darkest's leg moved faster than the eye could follow. He kicked at high speeds, sending out razor-sharp compressed air blades. The cutting force sliced through the incoming machines, their metal bodies splitting apart in a storm of sparks and debris. Within seconds, the entire squad was reduced to scrap.
The Soviet soldier blinked in disbelief. "Blyat... That was amazing! Are you some kind of mutant or something?"
Darkest dusted off his coat. "Do you believe that I'm just the accumulated evil of a certain idiot?"
The soldier scratched his head. "Huh? Comrade, you don't look evil at all. You seem like a good guy to me."
Darkest froze for a moment. Something inside him twitched. His initial plan of betraying the soldier wavered ever so slightly.
'Blyat! Why do you have to make this difficult for me?'
Shaking the thought away, he turned his attention to the glowing screens. The interface was displaying an archive of pre-war technology. As his eyes scanned the list, he whistled in admiration.
"As I thought… This is Fallout world."
His gaze shifted back to the soldier. "Hey, mind if I copy some of this data? There's a lot of interesting blueprints here, and I'd like to take a closer look at them later."
The soldier laughed, clapping him on the back. "Hah! Take whatever you want, comrade. No one's alive to stop you anymore!"
Darkest smirked and pulled out his Magical Smartphone™. With a quick scan, he copied an entire catalog of advanced technology:
Energy weapon schematics capable of disintegrating enemies at a molecular level.
A biomedical regeneration system that could heal even the worst injuries—at the cost of some cellular decay due to its rapid healing process.
Autonomous robots, equipped with real-time decision-making, enhanced accuracy, and independent tactical processing.
Stealth technology, making soldiers practically invisible to the naked eye.
Cold fusion, capable of provide infinite energy for the country.
And lastly, the Molecular Relay System—a teleportation device with limitless potential.
As the last of the files transferred, Darkest's grin widened.
"This… This is gonna be useful."
With a single press, he closed the interface, pocketing the Magical Smartphone™ like a modern-day pirate stashing away stolen treasure.
Turning to the soldier, he cracked his knuckles. "Alright, comrade. Let's get moving before more of these tin cans show up."
The Soviet soldier smirked, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Heh. With you on my side, I feel like we might actually have a chance to rebuild this world."
Darkest chuckled. "We'll see."
With that, they moved deeper into the bunker, towards whatever secrets the past had left behind.
•
As they stepped out of the facility, the cold wind howled through the desolate wasteland. The ruins of a dead civilization stretched before them—crumbling buildings, scorched earth, and the distant cries of mutated creatures echoing through the empty streets.
Darkest glanced at the Soviet soldier walking beside him, his crimson power armor standing resilient against the bleak landscape.
"Hey."
The soldiers turned his head slightly. "Hm?"
Darkest exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "How about you give up on rebuilding your country and become my subordinate?"
The soldiers stopped in his tracks.
Darkest continued, his voice unwavering. "This world is doomed. You're wasting your life here. I want to be honest with you—I'm not from this world. I have a way out, and if you come with me, you'll have a better life than this."
There was silence for a moment. Then, the soldiers let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
"No wonder you seemed so different from everyone else… To think another world truly exists." He smiled beneath his helmet. "But... I can't do that, my comrade. It's my duty to save my motherland and my people. I swore an oath, and even if this world is broken beyond repair, I will keep fighting for what remains."
Darkest studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Fine… Just don't regret your decision later, okay? What's your name?"
The soldiers straightened, his voice firm. "Alex Benzema. It has been an honor to fight alongside you, comrade."
Darkest smirked. "Satria. That's my real name, soldier. And I guess this is where we part ways."
Pulling out his Portal Gun, he quickly recalibrated it. A shimmering green vortex appeared before him, swirling like liquid energy. Just as he stepped forward, Alex called out.
"Wait!"
Darkest turned back, raising an eyebrow.
Alex reached into his pocket and tossed something towards him. On reflex, Darkest caught it midair and examined it—a small, worn medal adorned with an intricate engraving.
Alex's voice was filled with pride. "It's a good luck charm. The Medal of Saint George—the patron saint of soldiers and the Russian military. May it keep you safe, my Indonesian comrade."
For a moment, Darkest was silent. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.
With a final nod, he turned and leaped through the portal, vanishing into the unknown.
Where would he end up next?
Who knows?
To be continued...