Chapter 209: Free Will

“I heard things have gotten out of control on your end too.”

On the phone, the governor’s voice carried a hint of mockery. The police strike wasn’t unexpected—they had prepared for it some time ago.

The logic was simple: people rarely heed warnings until a crisis hits.

Even though the president’s reputation was tarnished nationally, as long as the social foundation remained stable, it was seen as mere political infighting.

No matter how harsh the criticism, as long as basic order was maintained, ordinary people only saw their street and the events nearby; they didn’t notice or care about what happened farther away.

Sometimes, attacks on the president even stirred sympathy, potentially causing other problems.

It was also a way to break the stagnant federal situation, to let people feel the sharp pain of reality—to realize that the ideals they once revered held no value for the country.

In suffering, they would open their eyes; the comfort of pretending to be asleep would fade. They’d have to face reality. Nothing contrasts chaos and law and order better than this—reminding them that responsibility lies not only with politicians but also with the public.

Though this sounds official, it’s the truth: politicians win support by catering to the majority.

Isolationism, at its core, also caters to public sentiment. When people start focusing on foreign wars, terrified by the young dying on the front lines, fear takes hold.

They worry their own children might be sent to the front, becoming cold numbers on a lifeless page.

Families die, homes are destroyed, the nation teeters on the brink…

This looming threat makes people fear war, and isolationism arises as the dominant social view.

To correct this mindset, something must be broken.

If the police hadn’t struck, society wouldn’t have erupted into terrifying chaos.

If the police hadn’t struck, militias and the army couldn’t have shown that war doesn’t always mean death and destruction—it can also mean protection and rebirth.

Behind isolationism lies a pathological indifference, even hostility, toward war and soldiers.

After replacing the conservatives, the Progressive Party quickly expanded international relations. Its vice-chair quietly traveled abroad, discussing mutual aid with other countries.

Once certain issues are resolved, they plan to deploy troops.

Not for war’s sake, but to prove their value and capability as part of their alliance.

Some regions still face local conflicts or require military oversight, with a shortage of personnel.

After years of war, many have grown weary and hostile toward conflict. The signing of ceasefire agreements was celebrated worldwide, but soon people stopped talking about wars without gunfire or ongoing conflicts.

The public demands the military disband and soldiers demobilize. The army struggles to recruit new soldiers and hesitates to deploy troops to risky areas, yet some duties must be done.

The federal government is ready to take this role. Overseas deployment is inevitable. The goal is to show that war isn’t just destruction—it involves justice and passion.

Faced with the governor’s taunt, the mayor sighed. “Things are worse than I thought. I expected these problems to emerge next month.”

The governor reassured him, “Stay safe. The earliest action is November 25th—over ten days away. I believe you’ll hold out.”

He turned on the TV and watched casually. Suddenly, the local station interrupted with breaking news. The anchor’s excitement starkly contrasted with Lynch’s grim expression.

Media figures knew that reporting a major event could make their names historic. They preserved history by recording or capturing key frames, fueling their zeal and hunger for bigger stories.

Through the broadcast, he and other city officials learned what was happening.

That night, under his orders, the police chief sent officers to negotiate with protest leaders. After intense work, some officers used harsh language.

Officially, the police were said to remain civil, but in reality, they never were.

Conflict broke out quickly. Workers surrounded three officers sent to mediate; some even brandished guns.

At that moment, the police abruptly declared their own strike for self-preservation. “We’re done. Anyone who wants to work can do it.”

The three officers’ self-strike inspired many others, allowing them to escape their difficult duties and join the protest.

Brief calm gave way to wild celebration. The strike by law enforcement, pillars of authority, convinced many the cause was just, the methods right, and the future bright.

Turning off the TV, he shook his head. Standing by the window, he looked out over the yard where armed guards stood, toward the faintly lit city center. He knew this would be a sleepless night.

Possibly triggered by the police strike, a daytime protest reignited. After dinner, people took to the streets spontaneously, poking police hats and uniforms with sticks.

Badges were strung on ropes, dragged on the ground, trampled.

The dark night seemed to awaken the basest desires. The streets grew dangerous as some youths broke away, smashing shops and looting.

The protests turned into riots.

More stores were attacked, goods stolen, and the looters justified their actions as payback for exploitation and oppression.

Look—this city has sunk into the sea of its citizens’ newfound freedom consciousness.

The next day, Lynch delivered a televised speech. He no longer dared appear publicly, fearing that in the charged atmosphere, a reckless act could destroy everything.

He urged citizens who had looted stores to surrender with their goods and called on protest organizers to calm the strikers.

But his words were seen as weakness. That afternoon, radicals among the strikers announced they had occupied the Sabin City police station.

They vandalized the otherwise tidy precinct with paint, and someone even defecated on the roof.

That day, the city hall announced it would suspend food and supply vouchers and close all redemption sites due to safety concerns.

They warned those who committed crimes during the strike to surrender at police or courts to seek leniency—since police stations were nearly shut down, the courts were the only option.

City hall and mayor’s perceived incompetence were taken as weakness by the frenzied crowd, though some residents grew worried.

In the following days, chaos persisted but the streets emptied.

Except for the looters who still filled their bellies, most ordinary citizens began to go hungry.“Hunger won’t solve these problems…”

Lynch stood on the upper floor of a building, looking through the window at the smoke rising from the burning city center in the distance. Not long ago, the city had been so quiet.

Maybe some unemployment made it seem a bit bleak, but at least it was safe.

In just a few days, the situation had deteriorated rapidly.

Behind him, in a lavishly decorated room, well-dressed men and women stood or sat around tables filled with exquisite food and fine drinks.

A band played soft music by the wall.

The speaker was the host of this gathering, a local wealthy businessman. His face was stern, but his eyes burned with anger.

“Our mayor is too weak. I believe we should fight back and crush these rioters head-on.” He paused, raising a finger. “Gentlemen, note that I called them rioters.”

“Their actions are even more terrifying and destructive than that. I’m sure every one of you here has suffered losses. Yet, so far, our city hasn’t offered any effective solution—only calls for peace.”

A thin, mocking smile appeared on his lips. “No one will help us. Only we can help ourselves!”

“I consulted a lawyer. When those rioters break into our shops and seize our property, even killing them would be lawful!”

His voice rose. “This is a sacred right granted to us by the federal charter!”