Hyperthermal Hell || Apocalypse Paradise #1 [Complete]

96: Puppeteer

"Hello, everybody. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Puppeteer."

This was the first sentence that the man in the strange outfit said as he walked up to his stage.

The "stage" he stood on was a shipping container that had been flipped to its side by the Beret Men. Just moments before, this man who called himself "Puppeteer" had been guided to the stage by the multitudes of mannequins and dolls who seemed to worship him. Even without using a microphone, his words sounded clearly in each of the 219 posthumans' ears.

The posthumans who walked out of two shipping containers were forced by the mannequins to line up in orderly rows; then the mannequins encircled them. Originally, there should have been more than 219 posthumans standing under the stage, listening.

However, during the process, more than ten people had tried to resist and escape. These failed escapees were caught and their legs were cleanly amputated; the mannequins carried the remaining upper bodies of those people on their shoulders and walked past the stage, possibly bringing them up to be examined by Puppeteer. The man touched each of those posthumans' forehead once and shook his head lightly each time. After that, the mannequins promptly threw the people off their shoulders and into the dried up ocean below them, not caring if those people lived or died.

Lin Sanjiu noticed a human leg still wrapped in a pair of jeans on the ground close to her when she heard Puppeteer speak again.

"If you do not wish to get hurt, please give me your kind cooperation. I only have a simple request, and there is no need for anyone to get hurt." Puppeteer smiled, sounding courteous.

The crowd below started growing restless, but just like the last winter gust in spring, the commotion immediately died down once the surrounding weirdos stared at them.

Puppeteer looked around, and even though he was still smiling, his gaze was cold and unfeeling. It was impossible to tell how old he was. His occasional movements seemed to lean toward him being a young man; however, when he crossed his arms and stood still, he seemed older. It was as if he might fit whatever age he was labeled with.

To add to that enigma, it was difficult to tell what his personality was from the clothes he wore. His entire attire was too strange: his top consisted of an amalgamation of multiple black strips with slits in between, revealing his pale, delicate skin; it was best described as a leather jacket thrown into a blender. He wore a large, scarlet red, cockscomb-like accessory on his back, which swayed as he walked, and a pair of black, thigh-high boots.

"I have a question." He had a mellow voice, but it caught everyone's attention immediately. "Is there a consular officer among the 219 of you?"

The crowd remained silent. Those who looked confused, trying to get some answers from the others, were probably new posthumans whose first experience with apocalypse worlds was Hyperthermal Hell; therefore, they knew nothing about the matter regarding consular officers. Those who looked down and kept quiet or turned pale with shock were probably from another world.

Even after waiting for a few minutes, no one spoke.

"Oh. A group of 219 is still too small..." Puppeteer sighed, feeling a little unsatisfied by the response. He could only do the next best thing. "Fine. Which of you have information about the consular officer here?"

Lin Sanjiu's heart tightened when she remembered Fang Dan. She exchanged a glance with Hu Changzai. Despite knowing that it wasn't quite possible for Puppeteer to spot her among over 200 people, she couldn't help lowering her head as if she was trying to hide what she knew. When she looked down, she suddenly noticed the trembling legs of the short man standing in front of her.