After Governor Marsel and the garrison Commander left, Perfikot finally put away her cold expression, sat back on the sofa, and sighed helplessly.
Her gaze passed through the window, looking towards the city in the distance shrouded in the faint glow of the Energy Towers, and a tinge of complex emotions arose within her heart.
If possible, she did not wish to do this.
She was not a ruthless person; she once thought of using gentler ans to acquire resources and avoid thrusting more people into hardship.
But now, she had no choice.
She knew that with her order, countless French people might die, their lives would beco more difficult, and many unspeakable things might happen.
The lower-class populace, already living on the brink of poverty, would be forced to endure even greater oppression and possibly lose their last hope of survival.
Perfikot was well aware of all this.
However, she was unable to take any conciliatory asures towards them, not even an ounce of leniency could be afforded.
Her goals were too grand, and ti was far too urgent.
The shadow of the holy war lood over the entire world, and mankind's survival was precarious.
She not only had to exploit those at the bottom but also included the ordinary citizens and big capitalists living sowhat good lives in her list of exploitation.
No one could escape fate, for this war required everyone's sacrifice.
After all, the third Floating City module had yet to be completed and still required a significant resource investnt.
And the Floating Cities were humanity's only hope in this holy war; they were not only fortresses against the Evil Gods but also a guarantee of humanity's future survival.
Not to ntion, Perfikot's need was not limited to just the third Floating City module, but a fourth, even a fifth one.
Only when there are enough Floating Cities can humanity stand undefeated in this war.
To build the Floating City modules she envisioned, she could only siphon every last bit from Marsel, indeed from all of France.
Even though this land had already been exhausted of everything before the arrival of the apocalyptic winter, Perfikot still had to keep siphoning the last bit of remaining value from it.
Every piece of ore, every drop of fuel, every portion of food had to be used for the construction of the Floating City.
If necessary, she would even exploit other countries on the old continent to obtain enough resources.
Thinking of this, a trace of determination flickered in Perfikot's eyes.
She knew her actions would be deed cold and ruthless by future generations, might even be accused as a tyrant.
But she didn't care!
In this war concerning humanity's survival, personal fa and morality had beco insignificant.
The only thing she cared about was how to win this war, how to secure humanity's future.
"If necessary, I will use the entire world as my resource." Perfikot whispered lowly, her tone carrying a shred of coldness and resolve.
She stood up, walked to the window, and once again cast her gaze towards the distant city.
She knew her path was destined to be filled with blood and sacrifice, but she had no choice.
For the future of humanity, she could only advance forward, even if it ant treading on the bones of countless people.
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anwhile, the residents of Marsel were oblivious to the fate awaiting them, their lives had long beco difficult under the oppressive weight of the apocalyptic winter, and Perfikot's order would make their situation even worse.
In the city's slums, the lower-class populace huddled inside shabby shanties, relying on weak fires for warmth.
They had beco accustod to exploitation, accustod to struggling to survive amid cold winds.
However, when the new orders reached the mines and workshops, the workers displayed expressions of despair.
They knew this ant longer working hours, more dangerous working environnts, and even fewer food rations.
"How much more ore do they want us to dig up?" a miner grumbled quietly, his hands covered with frostbite and cracks: "We're already barely holding on, if this continues, we'll all die in this damned place."
"Die?" another worker scoffed with a bitter smile, shaking his head, "Do you think they care whether we live or die? To them, we're nothing but consumables."
Elsewhere in the city, the middle-class citizens were also affected.
Their shops were forcibly requisitioned, stock in their warehouses cleaned out, and even the food reserves at their hos were demanded.
The citizens who once thought they could survive this apocalyptic winter in peace now fell into panic.
"They won't even spare us!" a rchant angrily slamd the table, "Why do we have to hand over all the hard-earned goods? This is simply robbery!"
"Keep it down!" his wife nervously looked around, "Do you want to live or not? If those troops hear us, our whole family will be in trouble."
In the rich district of the city, the big capitalists felt pressure too.
Their factories were asked to operate round-the-clock, workers were forced to work overti, and even their private reserve supplies were requisitioned.
Despite attempts to evade orders through bribes and networks, under Perfikot's iron policy, their privileges vanished.
"This is madness!" a factory owner roared furiously, "They're going to drive us to ruin! Our factory's already running over capacity, if this continues, machines will break down, workers will strike, and everything will be lost!"
"Lost?" his partner sneered coldly, "Do you think they care? To them, we're just a part of the resources. As long as there's still a bit of value left to squeeze out, they won't stop."
Although various classes in Marsel felt anger and despair towards Perfikot's orders, they were powerless to resist.
The iron heels of the garrison and the threat from being driven out of the Energy Towers' range of protection forced them to endure silently, not to ntion, a Floating City hung over their heads.
The lower-class populace continued laboring in cold winds, middle-class citizens nervously handed over materials, big capitalists maintained factory operations angrily.
Everyone knew this exploitation wouldn't stop until the last resource of Marsel was squeezed dry.
Only, amid despair, the flas of rebellion burned ever brighter.
The French indeed bowed beneath Victory's iron heel, but they never ceased their resistance.
Just as the old capital was willing to sacrifice the entire city for a chance to avenge Perfikot, so were there people in Marsel willing to give everything for a chance to resist.
All of this unfolded right beneath the Governor and garrison Commander's eyes.
Although they were not incompetent, they overlooked the rebellion hidden in the darkest corners because their rule had been too smooth over the years.
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