Global Collapse-Chapter 629 - 597: Getting Close with Mother Earth_1

The Upper Class people in the audience watched the performance, their joy and excitement palpable. None of them noticed the child stuck to the ground outside the building.

BANG.

A Lower Class person plummeted onto the stage floor, inciting even greater excitement from the audience.

It was now time for the second group of Lower Class people to perform. The act assigned to them was "Aerial Acrobatics."

Before her family fell into hardship, 007 often went with her parents to watch circus performances, and "Aerial Acrobatics" was an act she frequently saw. However, the performances she had seen before had all been by professionals. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The Lower Class people on the stage had clearly received no professional training; their attempt at aerial acrobatics was laughable. The main appeal of aerial acrobatics lay in the thrill of watching performers tossed through the air. But the current performance inspired no anticipation whatsoever.

Several trembling Lower Class people were fixed to the ceiling, trying to catch the performers tossed into the air. Predictably, they failed to catch anyone. Heavy thuds echoed repeatedly, accompanied by sporadic screams.

These heartbreaking cries were soon drowned out by the excited yells of the Upper Class people. The host continually directed other Lower Class people backstage to clear away those who had crashed onto the floor, half-dead.

007 was also ordered to help carry the Lower Class people who were immobilized. This gave her a premature taste of what it was like to be onstage. Cheers from all directions enveloped her; beams of light shone on her from everywhere, leaving her nowhere to hide. A slight upward glance revealed the audience's scrutinizing gazes, creating an incredibly oppressive sensation.

Get these people off the stage, quickly!

007 didn't want to linger. She bent down, grabbed the person on the ground by his shoulders, and forcefully lifted him.

As she struggled to lift the person at her feet, a sudden wave of cheers erupted from the audience below.

What happened?

007 was momentarily taken aback. She stole a brief glance toward the audience, only to see them all excitedly looking toward the ceiling above her. Following their gaze, she too surreptitiously looked up and saw someone swinging back and forth not far above her and to the side. This person was the reason for the audience's cheers.

After nearly ten Lower Class people had been "scrapped," one of those clinging to the ceiling finally caught a performer. The first success made the Upper Class audience cheer unceasingly.

At that moment, the two were gripping each other's hands tightly. The caught Lower Class person's legs flailed, sheer terror in his eyes.

"I'm out of strength... Don't... Don't let go..." 007 heard the caught man say in a trembling voice.

The audience's fervent cheers immediately drowned out the Lower Class person's words. But before this brief burst of cheers could fade, the thud of a heavy body hitting the stage echoed once more.

The Lower Class person had fallen after all, landing right beside 007.

He died instantly. His fox mask cracked in half, revealing a pair of wide, unblinking eyes behind it.

So, 007 had another body to carry.

When she returned backstage, her sleeves were stained crimson with blood. The half-dead and the dead were dragged to the side of the stage and piled up haphazardly in a corner. Occasional groans and a twitching hand emerged from the blood-soaked heap.

Because so many Lower Class people had been "scrapped," they could no longer form a full team, and the second act drew to a close.

Now, it was time for the third group of Lower Class people to take the stage.

007 leaned against a corner, staring blankly at the crimson stains on her sleeve. She was in the fourth group, safe for now.

The clamor from the audience outside continued unabated, but it didn't affect her at all. She sat on the floor, her gaze vacant, replaying the scene in her mind. He let go.

"What?" A passing Lower Class person wearing a snake mask heard 007 muttering to herself and leaned in to ask.

007 snapped back to reality. She brushed off her pants and stood up. "Nothing."

The second batch of performers was now coming offstage, trickling back into the backstage area. Only five returned. They were the ones who had been secured to the ceiling from the start. Relatively safe from harm, they had survived to the end.

007 instantly recognized the one who had let go. He had clearly grasped the fox-masked man's hand but had released it in the end. 007 had seen it clearly. He hadn't lost his grip due to exhaustion; amidst the cheers, he had simply let go.

"I'm sorry," the man was saying to the person beside him, his voice low and apologetic. "I just ran out of strength, so I couldn't hold onto him..."

Of course, 007 wasn't foolish enough to go up and expose him. She had no desire to play the hero in this situation. 007 glanced at him a few more times, committing him to memory. Remember him. He's not a good person. Stay away.

The conversation continued nearby.

"It's not your fault."

"You did your best."

"Don't take it to heart."

Everyone around him was consoling him.

Watching this scene, 007 felt a strange unease creep over her. What's going on? Such a harmonious atmosphere? So many of their companions had died, yet these people seemed completely unaffected. They only spoke in unison to comfort someone else.

No, besides those offering comfort, a small group was discussing other things.

"We'll be on soon. Let's give it our all!"

"Yeah, we have to help each other once we're on stage."

"Of course."

No one cared about the pile of broken bodies by the stage, as if those people had nothing to do with them.

007 sat stunned for a moment, thinking back. She realized this peculiar feeling had been present since the first group took the stage. They showed no concern for the lives or deaths of their companions. Even when they said encouraging words like, "Let's do our best together!" there was a palpable detachment, as if the comfort and encouragement were mere empty courtesies.

007 watched as the man who had let go was comforted by those around him. She stared blankly for a long while before the realization suddenly struck her.

That's right, the grand prize of the Carnival is "to live the life of an Upper Class person."

And there was only one spot for that prize. Out of this room full of people, only one of them would receive it.

But the fewer people remaining, the greater one's chance of winning.

The fewer people left...

Involuntarily, 007's gaze shifted to the pile of broken bodies beside the stage. Clearly, those individuals were no longer eligible for the prize. This meant that from the moment the Carnival began, the Lower Class people had become mortal enemies, merely maintaining a facade of civility on the surface.

A chill ran down 007's spine. She took a few small steps back, her cold back pressing against the wall.

So, she wasn't just facing one bad person, but a room full of mortal enemies...

At that moment, she suddenly missed Gu Mian intensely. If only I'd gone with him!

Meanwhile, Gu Mian, the object of her thoughts, had just finished his work and was happily descending from the rooftop. After Mike achieved his dream, the other four little ones had shrieked with excitement and run off. Gu Mian, however, patiently helped each of them fulfill their wish to get "close and personal" with Mother Earth.