Limitless The Strongest Revenant

I followed Philip as he led me to a building within the Battlefront City. Normally, when a group of settlers claimed a piece of land, they gave it a name. However, contrary to this rule, our home base didn't have a name.

As far as I understood, this city was called " The Battlefront". It seems that the other continents followed similarly, as I never heard any other designation except the continent name.

"Philip, why doesn't this place have a name? Isn't it inefficient to keep calling it the Battlefront?" I asked as we walked.

"Normally that would be the case, Mr. Smith, but that only applies if there is another place that requires the distinction. If there is no other city or place, would it even be necessary to name one?" my clerk replied.

Hmm... He made sense in a way, names were given to things to distinguish them from everything else. If that thing or object could be identified by a generic term, that would be enough.

That was why descriptions like father, mother, sister, brother only worked when you were at home. In your own house, no one else had these categorizations, but when you went outside of your community, half of the people would be parents or brothers, so you had to have names.

This truth applied not only to people, but also to cities. If there was only one city, there would be no need for a name. As a city alone, it became a unique existence. But I felt there was more to it.

Names had power.

When something was given a name, it became personified. Like when you named your pet or your car. The name alone made it more special than everything else like it. To deny a city such a name prevented anyone from belonging to that city.

In line with my thoughts, I asked wondering. "I have a feeling that this is not the only part of the story. The only reason a name would not be necessary is if they never intended this place to last. Surely it isn't for that reason, is it?"

"..."

"Are you kidding? Do they really want us to forget this place?"

Phillip then stopped, turned around and pulled me into a secluded corner. He kept looking around as if he was afraid someone would hear him.

"Mr. Smith, what I am about to tell you is for your ears only. Your initial suspicion is not far off the mark. I am telling you this because I want you to drop this matter for your own safety. Even as part of Administration, we were advised to keep names to a minimum."

"And why is that? Is that why everything is generic? From the names of the Professions to even the buildings."

"Yes, Mr. Smith. This theme is implemented not only here in North America, but everywhere else."

"Why? What could be a good reason for such a policy? Names would help people bond better with their homes and it helps with a sense of belonging, doesn't it?"

"You are right on both counts, Mr. Smith. However, the reason is the opposite. Management does not want the reapers to get attached to things. I am told it has something to do with memory. Names make it easier to remember things."

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

"People, places, and things become easier when you know their names. The Battlefronts operate on the premise of making it harder to remember. For the same reason, everyone who becomes a Phantom is assigned a handle or alias."

The only place I could think of that would require such deep levels of obscurity were intelligence organizations. The American CIA, the British MI6, the French DGSE, even the Israeli Mossad. These groups used such protocols to prevent espionage and protect information.

'Weren't we just fighting brain-dead zombies? Who is all this stuff for?' I thought deeply.

Unwittingly stepping on something I hadn't expected, I could only remark in defeat, "It seems the war is more complicated than I first thought."

Phillip nodded in understanding and stepped out to return to our original route. Surprised by what I had learned, I remained silent, pondering the implications of the information I had just received.

Eventually we came to a building with a hammer and anvil symbol. From the logo alone, you would know that this place had something to do with blacksmithing.

We finally entered and I saw a bustling market-like atmosphere.

"Come on brother, have a heart! 200 souls for a bottle is too much!"

"Piss off then, I have to pay the tax too. For 120 souls, you might as well rob me!"

"Hello, I am the defender of 1016-4. Can I please request spotlights?"

"Spotlights? Is there an eclipse coming?"

"Yes, it would be at the end of the month."

"Hmm. Got it, as thanks for the tip I will give you a discount."

"4000?! Look, buddy, this soulgear may be useful, but I could get something similar for 50% of the price."

"Is that so? Here is an IOU for 2 souls, please fuck off my booth."

When I looked around, the place didn't look organized like a department store. Instead, it looked like a wet market where the people who made the stuff sold their goods personally.

Each booth had unique offerings that differed greatly from those around it.

"Soulgear, medicine, armor, tools, rations, even sex toys. Why are they all mixed together?" I asked no one in particular.

Phillip walked further into the market until he reached a set of stairs and went up.

The second floor had far fewer people than the first. If the first floor had hundreds, this floor had about tens.

On this floor, the stalls were larger and grouped by industry. The vendors had a much cleaner feel than on the first floor. Wondering where we were going, I continued to follow Phillip as he climbed another set of stairs.

We then arrived at a clean room that looked exactly like a mall. It was clean and the stalls had been replaced by actual shops. There were hardly any people and small groups of five to ten people were walking around.

"Phillip where are we going?"

"We're almost there Mr. Smith. Would you like an explanation of the Production Hierarchy?"