This great demon appeared so humble that even the gods visiting this "New Babylon" would be delighted to see Astaroth serving them in such a manner. No matter how serious or noble a man might be, he could not ignore the former goddess of abundance and love, Astarte, now the great demon Astaroth. Her radiant beauty was so captivating that mortals would feel their very souls melt at the mere sight of her.
That's right. She didn't use any spells to bewitch others; she could drive people mad simply with her looks, voice, fragrance, and mannerisms.
If it were bewitching magic, there would always be a way to defend against it by setting up a barrier. However, there is no way to defend against beauty. Even if you close your eyes and don't see her beauty, Astaroth's sweet voice will still reach your ears; even if you plug your ears, the fragrance emanating from her body will still enter your nose; even if your eyes, ears, and nose are all blocked, as long as the great demon touches you lightly, you will be aroused with desire.
However, Hayden was not aroused by any desire. Instead, he felt somewhat intimidated by the humble appearance of the Old God, the Great Demon.
This is the Great Babylonian Daughter who sits on many waters, is all-knowing and all-powerful, and serves the modern ruling class.
"Hello, Ms. Astaroth."
Therefore, Hayden could only maintain a certain degree of respect or even fear towards her, rather than physical desire.
"I'm here to talk business with you."
This great devil is not stupid either.
She immediately noticed the meaning in Hayden's gaze, and with a light chuckle, replied, "Please don't be so cold. You are a distinguished guest, and I am merely serving you. What can I do for you?"
Yes. Hayden needs to find this great devil, so what can the property management of [New Babylon] do for him?
To put it simply, it's actually quite simple.
Hayden is going to work with Professor Albion to excavate the ancient salt deposited at the bottom of the Dead Sea. If they're lucky, they also want to explore and investigate the ruins of Sodom, which may have sunk to the bottom of the Dead Sea (although it's highly doubtful whether anything will actually remain).
To excavate these ruins and extract these salt deposits, five people are clearly not enough. Hayden needs to hire staff here, and he also needs various resources, at least several underwater excavators!
Of course, Hayden could bring manpower, resources, and construction machinery directly from New Seattle. But that would be asking for trouble and is completely unnecessary. Hiring people and renting/buying resources in New Babylon is obviously the fastest way.
"Of course! It's no problem!"
After hearing Hayden explain what they were going to do, Astaroth immediately revealed a cute, innocent smile.
Although Hayden wasn't there to open a factory, he was actually going to excavate the bottom of the Dead Sea. The lowest level of the Tower of New Babylon usually just sat there, offering almost no economic value. Hayden was now saying he was going to hire people, rent excavators, and various resources—a perfect example of making use of waste, turning a garbage dump into money!
So not long after, they finalized some agreements, and both sides were happy.
...It wasn't until Astaroth finished signing the contract with Hayden that he turned around and caught a glimpse of Angela, who had been following behind Hayden without saying or making any moves.
Angela recently had some new parts installed, and at first glance, she looks a lot like Valkyrie.
However, Astaroth looked at her carefully this time and revealed a puzzled expression:
"Excuse me... who are you?"
195: Who are you?
"May I ask who you are?"
Astaroth asked this question.
Angela then answered quite readily: “I am Angela, and I am the servant of Master Hayden.”
These words really startled Astaroth.
Angela said she was Angela.
Upon hearing this, Astaroth immediately had a thought flash through his mind like lightning—ah, this person is indeed a fellow countryman.
Astaroth and the like are the Old Gods, and even more so, the Outer Gods among the Old Gods. They all fell from the heavens to this world a very, very long time ago. Although they are kin, there were many of them when they fell, their situation was very chaotic, and the time and order in which they awakened after landing on this world were different. Of course, their strength also varied greatly.
In other words, although Astaroth immediately regarded Angela as one of his fallen Old Gods, he couldn't actually identify her directly.
Then, in the very next second, Astaroth noticed something strange: she said she was Angela?
Is there anything wrong with what he said? Literally, no, it is. But for an ancient god from beyond the heavens to say this when introducing himself sounds as strange as a human introducing himself as "I am human."
So Astaroth immediately became suspicious: Could this fellow countryman be stupid?
These fallen gods, though immortal, suffer damage to their primordial fire from being killed too many times. If not replenished, they gradually lose their intelligence and may eventually become undead beasts like Terasque, with intelligence comparable to a dog—barely better than death, but almost certainly doomed.
Could it be that this fellow countryman has been killed so many times that his mind has been damaged and he can't even remember his own name?
However, Angela had not finished speaking.
“I am Angela. And you, Asherah, who are you now?”
She asked very casually, yet with a hint of curiosity.
These words completely baffled Astaroth.
For the first moment, she couldn't understand Angela's words.
The next second, she remembered that Hayden was the son-in-law of the Peacock King, and a chill ran down her spine.
The Peacock King has always been a killer of the old gods. He has disliked the old gods, especially his own kind, for thousands of years. Everyone knows that the Peacock King was among the first to join the new gods and overthrow the old gods during the bourgeois revolution four hundred years ago; there's not much to say about that. However, in reality, long before the new god revolution, hundreds or even thousands of years ago, the Peacock King had already been a ruthless killer of gods and demons.
Many ancient gods, whether from beyond the heavens or not, had been chopped into pieces and minced meat by the Peacock King for their evil deeds. Astaroth was genuinely terrified of the Peacock King. Now, seeing a fellow countryman standing beside the Peacock King's son-in-law as a servant, uttering such words, she immediately couldn't help but suspect—was this fellow countryman some unfortunate soul who had been chopped into a fool by the Peacock King, brutally enslaved, and then assigned to serve his son-in-law?
Damn it, is this Peacock Angel Samael really so cruel that he doesn't even care about the feelings of his fellow countrymen?!
Astaroth felt a chill run down her spine at the thought, because she believed the Peacock King was truly capable of such a thing. Moreover, despite her bankruptcy and fall from grace, she had kept abreast of news from the divine realm. Therefore, Astaroth knew that the Mithra Group and the Smoke Mirror Company had recently collaborated to develop a new technology that could dissect the remains of deceased gods and demons, resetting them and resurrecting them as new gods.
And even Astaroth knows that you, Hayden, are the technical advisor for that new invention!
The ancient gods from beyond the heavens cannot die. But who knows?
The technology to utilize dead gods and demons has already been developed; the technology to utilize living, sealed gods and demons is probably not so far off. Especially for those like Terasquith, who have lost too many of their kin to the Primal Flame.
This fellow countrywoman who calls herself Angela looks rather dim-witted; could she be the prototype of this new technology?
Now, the foolish compatriots sent by the Peacock King are calling Astaroth by her real name while asking her nonsensical questions.
She asked: Who are you now?
Now like this? What do you mean, "who" or "who"?
Astaroth didn't understand the meaning of these words at all. And she never would. She could only frantically worry and think about whether she had somehow neglected the Peacock King and his son-in-law.
Then she realized that Hayden had come to excavate the Dead Sea's sediment and underwater ruins.
To Astaroth, this matter seemed even more bizarre. Did the Peacock King truly intend to exhume some remains, rewrite them, and then exploit and enslave them, thus becoming the god of gods and the lord of all lords?
...In short, in just a few seconds, Astaroth's imagination soared to an extremely absurd and bizarre level, startling herself quite a bit. If a painter could capture the expression on her face and the chaotic thoughts in her mind, it would surely be a masterpiece.
Angela was well aware that Astaroth was just daydreaming and didn't know what he was saying, so she sighed with regret and said no more.
"Whatever His Majesty the Peacock King wishes to do, I will certainly give him my full support!"
Astaroth quickly confessed, or at least that's what he said.
"I can provide all the tools and equipment. I will also help with the allocation of the energy, food, water, and oxygen needed for excavating the underground."
These were quite good for Hayden. However, it was clear that Astaroth hadn't finished speaking.
"It's just the lower rungs of the city; those areas are too chaotic and disorderly. Not only are there gangs of poor people resisting management, but there are also upper-middle-class people causing trouble there. I'm currently short-handed. But if the guests need it, I can immediately have my men clear out a safe area there..."
She said hurriedly.
That's not what Hayden wanted.
He could see that Astaroth was afraid. However, although Hayden was an immortal, he wasn't omniscient. He didn't know that Astaroth's imagination had wandered off to Java. Hearing her say that, Hayden lost interest and immediately waved his hand: "I can handle this myself. It would be a great blessing if you could help me allocate equipment, resources, and workers."
Astaroth's thoughts turned even further when he heard Hayden's words: So this son-in-law of the Peacock King really didn't want him to know too much? Then he really didn't need to say anything more and should just keep a low profile.
After Astaroth left, Hayden was somewhat moved: "This old god has survived from the feudal era countless years ago to the present day, going bankrupt and falling from grace in the last century to become a demon. Most people would probably collapse at this stage, and even if they don't, very few bankrupt capitalist gods can survive. She can still be the lord of a city, smiling and doing property management for the new gods. That's really amazing."
After all this commotion, both sides have misunderstood a lot of things.
Abigail, however, gave Haideng a strange look and scrutinized him for a while. She was a professional fixer, a survivor of the previous era like Astaroth, and couldn't survive without skillfully navigating both sides. Old-timers like Abigail and Astaroth—though Abigail was only a little over four hundred years old, incomparable to Astaroth who was at least a zero older—had to appease both sides to maintain their independence, and couldn't be too overtly accommodating to any one party.
Now, seeing Astaroth in such a panicked state, she found it rather strange.
However, on the other hand... living that long is itself a kind of strength. This isn't to say that older people have an advantage in experience and technology; in fact, living longer doesn't necessarily mean an advantage. Sometimes, the speed at which new technologies emerge is astonishing. Rather, it's this kind of life, having fully experienced the many joys and sorrows, that makes Astaroth's tenacity so palpable.
However, Angela looked in the direction Astaroth had run off in and shook her head: "Why bother? She's really not doing well now."
Next, Hayden and his team will have to work at the bottom of the city's social ladder.
"It's already 7 p.m., why don't you rest for the night before going down?"
Although Abigail asked this question, Hayden waved his hand and said, "There's no need."
"Anyway, the bottom of this tower is pretty much the same day and night, right?"
--------------------------
Generally speaking, the higher a person climbs in the Tower of New Babylon, the richer and more powerful they become.
This Fallen City is literally a space colony satellite that fell from space, standing upright in the Dead Sea. Therefore, the top of the cylindrical space station is the apex of the social pyramid. It's where the old and new gods live, work, and play—an area reserved for distinguished guests.
The lower and middle levels of the tower are far worse than the top, consisting of the industrial and commercial buildings and workers' residences of this lawless city. This level comprises the majority of the city's population. They are responsible for maintaining the city's operation, the factories and black market, and ensuring the rest of the city has food, clothing, and productivity. Although the city's magic reactor and food processing plants are located in this area, providing a continuous supply of energy and food to the entire Fallen City, the exploited inhabitants here still have to pay a heavy price for the energy and water they consume.
The heavy burden of life means that the residents here rarely can afford luxury goods. Most lead simple lives, working diligently and conscientiously to support their families. Being able to live here and have enough to eat is already considered fortunate. If they are even luckier, perhaps they might save some money so that one day they or their children can leave this place for better cities or states. They at least still have some hope and dreams.
So, what is the lower level of this Fallen City like?
The lowest level of the Tower of Babylon is a haven for the destitute and a penal colony for the defeated. Beneath the towering Tower of Babylon lies the darkest, vast slum, a dumping ground of despair. At the bottom of this cylinder embedded in the Dead Sea, even the structure of the space station is becoming dangerous, decaying and crumbling due to various reasons, including saltwater erosion. The original structures begin to crumble, forming piles of rubble, which are then connected by holes and pipes carved out by the seeping liquid above.
However, those who escaped from outside Fallen City or fell from the middle and upper levels are still struggling to survive here.
At 7:05 p.m., a man opened his eyes in the cheap and empty room.
The room had cheap paint on the walls and a double bed with slightly dirty sheets. The floor was also old and creaked easily. So the man had to be very careful when he sat up and then carefully shuffled back down to avoid breaking anything.
The kettle in the room was almost empty, and there was nothing else to fill his stomach. Although this wasn't a recent development, the man still couldn't help cursing himself for yesterday. He had planned to go out today anyway, but working on an empty stomach seemed too miserable.
To live in this Fallen City, everyone needs water, food, and light.
However, Fallen City is a half-damaged cylindrical colony embedded vertically in the Dead Sea. The city's interior is never exposed to sunlight, so even living on the lower levels requires a great deal of energy for lighting.
Water is also a precious commodity here—the Dead Sea is undrinkable. The elite guests of the city's upper echelons drink pure, snow-capped mountain water flown in by air, while industrial water in the factory district is mixed with sediment. The common people at the bottom rely on recycled water for survival, and no one cares whatsoever about its source. Every day, the entire city of Neo-Babylon requires hundreds of millions of tons of water. This water is used for quenching thirst, industrial cooling, and cleaning. Ensuring and maintaining the flow of this water is a crucial responsibility of Astaroth (property management).
Food, everyone understands, no need to elaborate.
But Fallen City even literally sells air—it's a single, towering building higher than the Himalayas, where the air rapidly becomes polluted from top to bottom. Without energy, residents might freeze to death within a month; without food, they might starve to death within a week; without clean water, they might die of thirst within three days.
Without air, the inhabitants of the lower classes would die at an alarming rate. However, the city's turbines, ventilation shafts, exhaust fans, and air filters were almost entirely scattered among different company agents. Those who didn't pay couldn't even afford a few breaths of air.
The man opened the large closet, took out his armor jacket and military cap, put them on, and then picked up his tattered, cheap cell phone from beside his pillow—only then did he realize that he had received several interesting text messages.
The text message said that the gang had received information that several high-ranking, mysterious beings from out of town were coming to survey the lower levels, probably planning some kind of development. Therefore, the man was asked to go and investigate.
Honestly, this job sounds dangerous. Those jobs that claim to be "just a simple round trip" require the most caution.
Because—if it's truly a simple and safe job, why spend a lot of money to have someone do it for you?
However, men don't have many choices.
The innate power gap between mortals and divine adjusters in this world is simply too vast. If mortals wish to gain truly formidable combat power, they are forced to resort to illegal physical modifications and weapon enhancements. These practices are prevalent in Neo-Babylon, where many illegal related technologies are traded on the black market.
Correspondingly, these things cost money. And not just at the time of purchase. Routine adjustments, repairs when damaged, and so on. To ensure optimal performance at all times, corresponding maintenance fees are required.
This man arrived in Fallen City and underwent extensive physical modifications, the maintenance of which required considerable expense. Furthermore, he needed to repay loan interest, leaving him penniless. Refusing a commission from a gang was out of the question for him.
Since that's the case, then we have no choice but to go for it.
Let these alien gods experience what it's like to be targeted by professional urban mercenaries!
196: You can't take my salt.
By any standard of urban mercenaries, the lower levels of [New Babylon] are a dilapidated place.
A gloomy atmosphere hung over the steel dome. The city's lower levels were not lacking in tall buildings, for this place had once been a normal colonial satellite space station. Now, however, these houses and buildings were dilapidated and deserted. Behind the broken windows, it seemed, eyes were always silently watching outwards, and the haphazard ancient supports and gray vaulted ceilings soared into the darkness.
There are streetlights here because the Neo-Babylon space station didn't have slums a hundred years ago. Thanks to the high-quality magic and materials Astaroth used when building the city, many lampposts still stand along the roadside, inscribed with runes for illumination. However, due to a significant energy shortage, the streetlights cast a pale, flickering light. High above in the darkness, massive city air circulation systems rhythmically expel bursts of steam with a rumbling sound, soon creating cool breezes on the ground. Occasionally, a light drizzle falls, barely enough to wash away the dust from the streets.
It's not that there aren't people outdoors in this low-lying area; they're always in a hurry. Dilapidated houses, ruins, garbage dumps, and people huddled together by fires for warmth—those disheveled, ragged people… everyone here is struggling to survive. It's clear that just staying alive is incredibly difficult for them.
Even urban mercenaries are no exception.
The tech shaman sat shivering atop an abandoned building. It was thirty stories above the drab, gray streets below. A damp, cold wind constantly swept past her, making her regret not wearing warmer clothes.
Another muscular man—the warrior responsible for protecting her—calmly stood guard beside her, moving his modified body up and down. He had deliberately covered his bio-engineered arms with a layer of artificial skin, because he was very conscious of his appearance and didn't want the enhancement modules to ruin his image. That being said, his body was still a clear weapon. The knock-off combat modules made in the factory were clearly both armor and weapon.
At this moment, he stood with his arms crossed, having no doubt that he would have to act as a human shield if necessary. The information mage was important. This warrior, in comparison, was just an ordinary person with many physical modifications—but so what? Ultimately, this was a division of labor. He knew his duty perfectly well.
They received a task today, a very troublesome commission.
According to intelligence from the upper echelons, some Protoss lords from out of town are reportedly planning some kind of development project in the lower slums. This might not necessarily be a bad thing, but neither the gangs here nor the warriors themselves, these people living in the slums, have ever felt that the Protoss are trustworthy.
Moreover, I heard they actually want to dig something up here. The word "dig" is just too stimulating.
Therefore, the gang asked this team to investigate and scout, to find out about these god-like lords—to find out as much information about them as possible.