Chapter 419: The Snow Mountain |
[Name: Insomnia Bacteria]
[Type: ##]
[Effect: Infects a person with "Insomnia," which can be transmitted to anyone through contact in the "real world." The bacteria lie dormant within the body, and the holder determines the time and intensity of its activation.]
In North America, a group of young people marched through the streets, holding banners and chanting the tired platitudes of "freedom and equality." Seizing the opportunity, two young Black men rushed into a shop on the corner, snatched gold jewelry from a glass display case, and sprinted away.
Ever since the Balance Church officially declared war on the Federation, the line between their territories had blurred with the fall of numerous cities. Some took advantage of the chaos to fish in troubled waters, while others locked their doors, preparing for the impending change of regime.
The expansion of the Balance Church was unlike any previous rebellion. What was once thought to be a minor terrorist organization operating locally had transformed into a mature political power. Wherever they went, monsters ran rampant, turning human lands into forbidden zones of the weird.
The Federation's thermal weapons and regular army were useless. The Weird Investigation Bureau stepped forward, and though they briefly managed to control the deteriorating situation, they too suffered defeat after defeat in the battles that followed.
The procession of protesters sparked disputes and riots, their path marked by an unending stream of screams and curses. Most people, however, chose to watch from the sidelines, maintaining a self-preserving silence while silently praying for the conflict to end and the chaos to subside.
Then, in a single instant, everyone froze—protesters, looters, and bystanders alike—as if caught in a witch's spell.
This scene repeated itself in places all over the world. A homeless man lying on the street, a student sitting in a classroom, a white-collar worker in an office, a politician delivering a speech... more and more people collapsed, and without exception, yellow flowers blossomed from their bodies.
It was a curse inextricably linked to death, spreading as silently as a plague, claiming lives that had been vibrant only a second before, making all people equal in a way they had never been before.
Panic, despair, terror, anxiety... rumors flew across every major forum. Some suspected a leaked pathogen from a laboratory was to blame, but what kind of pathogen could take a person from infection to death so quickly?
The religious began to confess their sins to God, while those who believed in science tried to analyze the cause of death with as much calm as they could muster.
After a period of initial confusion, the director of the North American branch of the Weird Investigation Bureau made a swift judgment. "Those people died from a weird phenomenon from the game called the 'Insomnia Bacteria'."
An investigator beside him quickly pulled up the relevant information. "This phenomenon is unique to the *Red Maple Boarding School* instance, but that instance was permanently closed after Qi Si, Say Dream, and Chang Xu cleared it. Could there have been a leak from the site of the Indigenous Victims Memorial Hall in Maple County?"
"This isn't a natural disaster; it's man-made," the director said coldly. "If it were a leak, the first to die would be those closest to the site, not people all over the county dying simultaneously like this."
"Director, are you saying... someone is controlling this phenomenon?" The investigator's expression grew grave. "Who could it be? Is it Qi Si? Why would he do this?"
"For a sacrifice," the director's voice was calm, his eyes empty. "He's making an offering to the Ancestral God, and we are all the sacrifices."
"Dire... Director, how do you know all this?" The investigator sensed something was wrong and instinctively pressed on. "And... isn't Qi Si in the Final Instance? How could he affect the real world?"
He seemed to recall something and muttered to himself, "Strange. All the players selected for the Final Instance have disappeared. Before, only their souls were pulled into the instances; their physical bodies never vanished too."
"And today is already May 7th. Ever since the Final Instance began on May 5th, none of us seem to be able to enter the Weird Game anymore..."
The director cracked a smile, the same eerie grin often seen on the faces of frozen corpses. "How could that be? We're all in the Weird Game now, all inside the Final Instance..."
As if to confirm his words, the sound of cracking ice filled the air. It started as a faint buzz, like a mosquito, but grew louder within seconds.
The investigator instinctively tilted his head up, looking toward the source of the sound. The once-clear sky was now dominated by a pair of silvery-white eyes, gazing down upon the world with calm indifference.
Pristine white feathers drifted down like snowflakes, and a chill shot up from the soles of his feet, piercing through his bones. The investigator looked down and saw that the ground beneath him had, at some point, turned into a translucent layer of ice. Beneath it, human faces stared up at him—rows and rows of neatly arranged corpses.
He saw the director's face, his own face, and the faces of many of his colleagues from the Bureau. They stared at him, their mouths opening and closing as they spoke in unison. "We are destined to die. We are all sacrifices..."
He felt an icy coldness envelop him as a thick layer of frost rapidly climbed his skin, forming a seamless shell that sealed him within a sculpture of ice.
His perspective spun wildly. He was now lying beneath the ice, looking up at the colossal eyes that turned slowly and mercilessly like a wheel of doom and revelation. A voice whispered in his ear, "Rebirth... the end... a new beginning..."
...
[Name: Puppet Thread]
[Type: Skill]
[Effect: Once attached to another player's little finger, it can control their life and manipulate their actions (has evolved to its complete state).]
In Magic City, Dragon County, Old Wai rode his tricycle, his little granddaughter in the back, blending into the stream of people heading out of the city. The world had descended into chaos, and the metropolis was overrun with ghosts. He planned to return to his village in the countryside, a remote place where he hoped they would be spared the worst of the impact.
Taxis were impossible to find, and public transport was dangerously overcrowded. But Old Wai was undoubtedly one of the lucky ones. He at least had his own tricycle for transport and wasn't stuck in the city, frantic with worry.
His granddaughter sat cross-legged, licking a lollipop as she curiously looked around at the bustling traffic and the hurried crowds. "Grandpa, where are we going?" she asked.
"We're going back to our old home," Old Wai said with a gentle smile. "Grandpa will take you to dig for bamboo shoots and catch butterflies. You just take a little nap, sweetie, and we'll be there when you wake up."
"Okay! I'm going to sleep now!" his granddaughter chirped, theatrically flopping backward to curl up in the tricycle's carriage and closing her eyes.
Old Wai chuckled, his chest filling with a warmth called happiness. This small tricycle had become their home, carrying everything he held most precious in the world.
He still remembered a year ago when his son died at a construction site. His daughter-in-law had taken the compensation money and run off, leaving him and his granddaughter to fend for themselves. He had planned to end his own life with a bottle of pesticide but had stumbled into the Weird Game by some twist of fate.
After walking through the gates of hell, he no longer sought death. Instead, he began to think about how to survive. He painstakingly studied all the information on the forums, learning the rules of survival in this new world from scratch. Relying on the sharp wit he had in his youth, he managed to connect with a guild called "Sila" and, after offering up a large sum of points, was granted membership.
It took Old Wai half a year to establish a foothold in the Weird Game, but before he could enjoy any real comfort, the Final Instance had appeared. The world changed so quickly, and he was forced to learn and adapt all over again.
Fortunately, as a player in the Weird Game, he had access to more information than ordinary people. He had prepared supplies and a place to stay in advance, so he wasn't caught completely off guard.
As for taking advantage of the situation to profiteer or fish in troubled waters, such thoughts never crossed his mind. He was just an ordinary man who wanted a piece of land to farm peacefully, to raise his granddaughter, and to live out his remaining years in peace...
Suddenly, the howl of a fierce wind filled his ears—a piercing sound, like a gale blowing through a bone whistle. It was the kind of sound an ancient shaman might make to summon wandering souls, and it sent a chill down his spine.
Old Wai blinked a few times and looked around. Perhaps his old eyes were playing tricks on him, but the sky above seemed to be cracking, covered in a dense web of fissures.
An eight-legged spider with a swollen abdomen crawled slowly across the web that blanketed the sky, its sharp mandibles opening and closing like scissors, aimed directly at him. *Snip*—the sound of something being cut.
In that instant, Old Wai lost all connection to the world. His consciousness sank into darkness, and his soul drifted lightly toward the heavens. In his last glimpse, he saw his own unsupported corpse tumble from the tricycle, like a pile of tattered garbage.
The body was crushed by the wheels of passing vehicles, spilling a startling amount of blood. The crowd screamed, and someone whispered, "Someone's died."
Awakened by the noise, his granddaughter climbed dazedly out of the tricycle. She saw Old Wai's gray-haired corpse lying on the ground and reached out to shake his shoulder. "Grandpa, why are you sleeping? The ground is cold, you'll get a tummy ache! Grandpa, wake up..."
The body grew colder with each passing moment. After a long time, the girl finally realized that her grandfather would never wake up again. A dazed expression, one that should never belong to a child her age, appeared in her eyes.
Amidst the sea of people, no one stopped. Only the little girl's heart-wrenching cries echoed between heaven and earth.
...
In the Gulan Autonomous Region, artillery fire erupted across the scorched earth, kicking up pale ash. Flesh and blood were flung into the sky by the shockwaves, only to rain back down upon the battlefield.
Hunter, a medical kit on his back, dragged wounded soldiers from the trenches back to the camp and laid them on stretchers.
People who had known peace for too long faced war for the first time like deer stunned by a thunderclap, unable to comprehend what was happening to them or where they were supposed to go. They charged forward mechanically, retreated mechanically, and then, driven by instinct, struggled to survive.
Casualties mounted. The initial bravado quickly gave way to fear. Even the most boastful young men could no longer claim their love for war. Levity vanished in the oppressive atmosphere, and the camp filled with screams and weeping.
"Help me... I want to live... I don't want to die..." "My leg... it hurts so much..." "Mama..." The moans were incessant, though some voices would sound for a while before falling silent forever.
Immersed in the shadow of death, Hunter treated the wounded with as much composure as he could muster. To this day, he still couldn't understand how the war had started. It was baffling. Overnight, the world had descended into utter chaos.
Why go to war? Hunter wondered. The Federation's rule was bad, but it wasn't so terrible that it needed to be cleansed with blood. They were poor and dissatisfied, but hadn't they survived all this time?
"No! The Truth Red has flanked us... We've lost the position, it's completely lost..." a soldier covered in dust burst into the camp, his voice choked with sobs.
More men, missing arms and legs, stumbled in one after another, screaming in terror, "There are ghosts! They have ghosts!"
The Truth Red was a resistance force that had been entrenched in the Gulan Autonomous Region for years. They had recently formed an alliance with the Balance Church, greatly increasing their power.
Hunter had a friend who worked for the Weird Investigation Bureau who had discreetly shared some information with him. He knew the Balance Church worshipped an evil god and could command the power of ghosts. But hearing about it was one thing; seeing it with his own eyes was something he still found hard to believe.
Mutilated corpses staggered into their position. Even those with their heads blown off continued to twitch and advance. Bodies in the trenches rose up and bit the necks of their comrades beside them. The wounded on the stretchers stopped breathing, only to sit bolt upright and join the army of the dead.
Fine silver threads connected the shambling corpses, wrapping the world in a translucent cocoon. Red-eyed white doves flapped their wings, carrying away pieces of rotting flesh.
A bottomless, icy pit like a black hole appeared beneath his feet. Countless skeletons swarmed at the bottom, reaching up their arms to drag down those outside.
Hunter struggled frantically, but he was still pulled into the pit, becoming one with the legion of skeletons...
...
The Snow Mountain. A ruined temple.
Colorful prayer flags and wind chimes adorned the temple gate. A mottled spirit screen stood opposite the white snow outside. A young man with a common face, dressed in a casual Tang suit, was pinned to the wall by pristine white feathers, his blood pooling into a river at his feet.
Though he was in a wretched state, the young man couldn't stop talking. "Hey, beautiful, that's not very fair. I'm a theory-based player, not much of a fighter, and you come at me with your ultimate move right off the bat... I mean, can't we talk this over first?"
"Even if you don't want to talk, there's no need to be so harsh. Look at me, all skin and bones. What threat could I possibly pose to you? Besides, my blood is dirtying the ground, which must be an eyesore. You'll have to clean it up later, and that's just a hassle, isn't it..."
In the muddy corner lay a folding fan, upon which were written four large characters: *Defy Heaven, Change Fate*. The man's identity was obvious—he was Yu Jinsheng, the acting president of the Listening Wind Guild.
Standing before him was a woman with waist-long hair, her long white coat fluttering in the wind. She was White Crow, the vice president of the Balance Church.
"President Yu, your reputation for being as cunning as a rabbit with three burrows precedes you. I can't believe you have no trump cards, so naturally, I must be cautious. Besides, we are enemies. What is there to discuss?" White Crow offered a gentle smile as she casually walked around the spirit screen and stood by the edge of the sacrificial pit.
The bones in the pit, which had only reached the halfway mark, were now rapidly rising. Within minutes, the skeletons had filled it to the brim. War was, and always would be, the cruelest of sacrificial rituals.
Behind her, Yu Jinsheng was still chattering away. "Actually, beautiful, I think we can arrange a temporary truce. You see, this instance is treacherous, full of snowstorms and unpredictable changes. The situation is incredibly volatile. I happen to know a few people, so cooperation would be mutually beneficial."
"Is that so?" White Crow returned to the front of the screen and met Yu Jinsheng's gaze. The silvery-white light swimming in her eyes was gentle and pure. "Tell me, if I were to pin you to the altar, who do you think would be the first to come and save you?"