Chapter 60.1: Kindergarten
Ji Anze sprinted toward the kindergarten.
Ever since Blue Sea arrived on Dazzling Star, the adult residents had been constantly hunting snow beasts, collecting item cards, exchanging them for cold-resistant clothing, and sending the gear back to Blue Sea.
By now, almost everyone had at least one set of cold-weather clothing. Only the elderly, the children, and those too weak or ill to leave the city lived full-time in the heated shelters.
In most other Safe Cities, elderly people were a rare sight. Children appeared from time to time, but ninety-five percent of the population consisted of young and middle-aged adults.
Blue Sea was different.
When they evacuated Dark Star, the government had done everything possible to bring everyone they could.
Even in the apocalypse, Blue Sea remained a complete society.
It had elderly people and children. It had nursing homes and kindergartens.
Although neither the elderly nor the children could contribute to Blue Sea’s fighting strength, their presence was no less important.
Children represented hope. The elderly represented stability.
With them, Blue Sea was a true nation—not merely another gathering of apocalypse survivors.
Ji Anze didn’t fully understand ideas like that.
But after becoming a father, he really had changed.
He copied what his own parents had done—eating meals with his child, putting the child to bed, telling bedtime stories from Starting a Kingdom from Scratch, climbing wooden poles together (all the trees had been preserved inside the botanical garden, so wooden poles had become the substitute), and even watching war documentaries together.
So this… was what it felt like to be a parent.
In the past, whenever he went out on field missions, he fought simply because he loved combat. He never cared whether he got hurt and could calmly accept the possibility of dying in battle.
Now, whenever he was deployed, he was no longer so reckless. He had become far more cautious, making a point of protecting himself.
As soon as his salary arrived, his very first thought was to take his kid out for a big, delicious meal.
At the previous arrival site, he and his teammates had stood together on a wooden plank as snow beasts dragged them across the frozen landscape, the howling wind nearly blowing them off balance.
While laughing and having the time of his life, one thought kept surfacing in his mind:
‘This is so much fun. I wish I could bring my kid here to try it.’
Now, like every other citizen of Blue Sea, Ji Anze had received the God’s blessing and heard the divine decree.
Their merciful God had bestowed upon the people of Blue Sea the ability to communicate with every civilization.
From this day forward, no Blue Sea citizen would ever again be hindered by a language barrier.
Overjoyed, Ji Anze raced straight to the kindergarten.
Because his child… wasn’t human.
His child was a little Long-Tendril who loved making cheerful bo-bo chirping sounds.
By the time Ji Anze arrived, the other two members of his squad had gotten there ahead of him.
The God had entrusted this child to their squad to raise, so in a sense, all three of them were the child’s fathers.
To conserve resources, the heated shelters were extremely crowded.
Under normal circumstances, the children would have ridden the school shuttle between the kindergarten and their family residences every day. But because of Dazzling Star’s brutal climate, ever since arriving in this world, they had lived full-time in the heated dormitories attached to the various kindergartens, just like all the other children.
Parents who wanted to visit their children first had to register and wait their turn. Afterward, they would wait in a designated room while a teacher brought the child to meet them.
Ordinarily, any parent separated from their child for such a long time would be worried, no matter how carefree they were.
But the people of Blue Sea had no such concerns.
First, children were the weak, and no one would ever bully them. Even a random passerby from Blue Sea would immediately step in if they saw a child who needed help.
Second, every teacher, upon earning their teaching certification, swore an oath before the statue of the Great Creator God that they would treat every student equally and wholeheartedly, remaining true to the calling of education.
Because of that, parents placed absolute trust in the teachers.
Finally, Blue Sea children were really, truly difficult to look after.
They seemed to have endless energy, endless mischief to cause, endless trees to climb, and endless war games to play.
Even Blue Sea parents—fearsome warriors who could tear through enemies on the battlefield without breaking a sweat—generally preferred not to be the ones looking after the kids.
In Blue Sea, loving your children and not wanting to babysit them were not contradictory at all.
As a result, teachers were among the highest-paid professionals in Blue Sea.
Not a single Blue Sea citizen objected to that. On the contrary, everyone sincerely believed the teachers deserved every bit of their salary.
This time, because of Dazzling Star’s freezing temperatures, the government had transferred all children in batches into the heated shelters operated by the various schools, where they would be cared for and supervised collectively. Even during school holidays, the children would remain there instead of being sent home.
Countless parents were absolutely thrilled.
They had always believed that children under the age of ten only had school vacations so their teachers could finally catch a break.
Back on Dark Star, daycare centers had been one of Blue Sea’s most popular institutions. Every weekend, huge numbers of parents willingly paid expensive childcare fees just to leave their children in the teachers’ care.
Then they could go fishing.
Go on picnics.
Go hiking.
Go diving.
Or organize war games with their friends.
Anything was better than staying home—because if the kids were left there for just one day, the house would end up completely wrecked.
The children loved daycare too.
Every day, under the teachers’ supervision, they happily spent their time playing one game after another.
Parents who couldn’t afford daycare would send their children back to relatives in the countryside, where they could run wild across the hills all day.
Parents with a little more money enrolled their kids in daycare centers that specialized in all kinds of war games.
And the truly wealthy parents had an even better option—they could send their children to Wilderness Daycare, where they spent their days playing and exploring in the wild.
Even now, despite the destruction of Dark Star, daycare centers had risen from the ashes.
In fact, they were more popular than ever.
Back on Dark Star, there had at least been plenty of open space. Even if parents didn’t send their children to daycare, they could still tire them out by taking them hiking, swimming, or playing outdoors.
But now, with so many people packed into Blue Sea, where were they supposed to find mountains and rivers for the kids to explore?
So there was only one solution: leave them with the daycare centers, where the instructors could keep the children occupied with all kinds of war games. If they burned off all that boundless energy during the day, they’d sleep soundly through the night.
That was exactly how parents had done things back on Velvet Star.
Now that they were on Dazzling Star, this child protection policy was even better than in the previous world.
Since the children had to be cared for collectively because of the extreme environmental conditions, the government had mobilized teachers from across the nation and assigned them to classes as needed. Their salaries and allowances were paid directly by the government.
Parents didn’t have to pay a single cent.
Completely free.
Only a Blue Sea citizen could truly appreciate just how wonderful it was to have free daycare.
Ji Anze, however, couldn’t relax as easily as most parents.
After all, their child was a little Long-Tendril.
It wasn’t part of Blue Sea civilization. Its appearance, language, and mannerisms were all different from those of Blue Sea’s people.
As its parents, they naturally worried whether it would get along with the Blue Sea children.
But no matter how worried they were, Ji Anze’s entire squad was at a loss.
Because they couldn’t communicate, they had no way of asking the little Long-Tendril what it really thought about school.
Did it get along with its classmates?
Was anyone b*llying it?
Since it couldn’t understand what the teachers were saying, did it find lessons unbearably boring?
The only thing they could do was visit it every day.
As the squad leader, Ji Anze had even drawn up a visitation schedule. No matter how busy they became, at least one member of the team had to come see the child every single day.
That’s how their bond had gradually formed.
The little Long-Tendril was genuinely well-behaved.
Even though it couldn’t understand their language, it would always answer their words with cheerful little bo-bo chirps.
And whenever it saw its parents busy with something, it would stretch out its long whiskers to help pass them whatever they needed.
And on top of that—
The little Long-Tendril never caused trouble.
It was unbelievably easy to take care of.
It was nothing like a Blue Sea child.
Whenever they watched war documentaries together and the sound of artillery thundered from the screen, Ji Anze and the others would instinctively glance at the little Long-Tendril.
It wouldn’t get excited.
It wouldn’t immediately jump up demanding to play war games.
It certainly wouldn’t grab one of its parents’ grappling claws and start scampering across the ceiling.
Instead, it would simply sit quietly in its bucket, staring at the screen.
It didn’t actually understand what it was watching, but since its parents were watching the screen, it watched too.
And if it noticed one of them looking at it, it would tilt its little head, let out a cheerful bo-bo chirp, and gently rub its whiskers against their cheeks.
Every member of the squad—who, as children, had secretly dug out their parents’ grappling claws and spent the middle of the night crawling around on the ceiling—could only think:
‘Great God… so children like this really do exist!’
By now, even without any command from their God, they all felt responsible for raising it for the rest of its life.
Whenever the squad had to leave the Safe City on a mission, they would draw lots to decide who would stay behind near Blue Sea to look after the child. The others, after returning from distant expeditions, would share the item cards they had earned with the teammate who had remained behind.
And now—
Their God had granted them the ability to communicate!
“Captain Ji?”
Ji Anze and his teammates were waiting in line when a parent farther ahead turned around and recognized them.
The parents waiting at each registration window were all familiar with one another. Their children were in the same class, so whenever they came to visit, they always ended up lining up together.
This parent was also a military officer. He had crossed paths with Ji Anze several times before and knew him fairly well.
One look at the expressions on the squad’s faces, and he immediately understood why they had rushed over.
“Come on, take my place. Your situation’s more urgent. I’ll line up again.”
He stepped out of the queue and waved Ji Anze over to the spot he had just vacated.
As he did, he called out to the other parents nearby,
“They’re Baby’s parents.”
“Baby” was the nickname Ji Anze and his squad had given the little Long-Tendril.
Because they knew nothing about Long-Tendril civilization’s history and couldn’t communicate with its people, they had no idea what would be considered a good name in its culture. So they had never given the child a proper name, only the affectionate nickname Baby.
Many of the parents might not have recognized Ji Anze and his squad by name, but the moment they heard “Baby,” they immediately knew who they meant.
After all, there was only one little Long-Tendril in the entire class—indeed, in the entire school. Even the neighboring schools knew there was a child from Long-Tendril civilization here.
The children talked about it when they went home, so all the parents had heard.
This was the alien child whom the Great God had specifically instructed everyone to raise well.
The Long-Tendril Leaves used to make the flying wings had come from Long-Tendril civilization.
Naturally, the parents also knew that communication between Blue Sea and the Long-Tendrils had always been impossible. Ever since the little Long-Tendril enrolled, not a single person had managed to have a real conversation with it.
“Oh, you’re Baby’s parents! You received the God’s blessing and rushed over to talk to Baby, didn’t you?”
One parent stepped out of the line.
“Your matter really is more urgent. Here, come take my place.”
She wasn’t the only one.
Several parents farther up the queue also gave up their spots.
Ji Anze and his teammates thanked them all as they moved forward.
“Thank you. Thank you, everyone.”
“It’s nothing!”
“Right! Some things are just more urgent than others!”
The parents were all warm and friendly.
They craned their necks to look ahead. If the visitation room hadn’t been so small, many of them would have wanted to follow inside as well.
They were curious too.
What exactly was it like to use the communication ability bestowed by their God?
If they hadn’t already been standing in line when they received the divine blessing, they would have run straight outside the city to find some aliens and try it immediately.
We’ll test it as soon as we’re done visiting the kids.
Being able to communicate freely with every civilization!
How amazing is that? We have to try it!
Thanks to the other parents giving up their places, Ji Anze and his teammates were soon assigned the next available visitation room to meet with their child.
