Chapter Seventeen: The Outbreak

Before long, the battles between Fishscale Arm and Rain Tomorrow also came to an end, just as the in-game timer ticked past the seventy-seventh minute.

Because both of them received full rewards, their contribution bars instantly shot past the threshold to level two, which ironically left the once-experienced High Hand trailing behind at the bottom.

Yet, despite the level-ups and successful challenges, there was no sense of relief or joy among the group. Instead, the atmosphere remained heavy, weighed down by the conflict between Ember and Rain Tomorrow.

“We really should have a good discussion about what to do next!” Fishscale Arm exhaled deeply, wiping away the sweat dripping from his brow. Being the oldest among them, he found the battle the most taxing—he had nearly been killed by the Mimic Chest. His expression darkened as he looked at Rain Tomorrow: “I know how things work in Thunderclap. If someone bullies you, your boss will stand up for you. But if you try to bully someone and end up getting slapped in return, what do you think he’ll do then? Especially with High Hand and me as witnesses, ready to prove you brought this all upon yourself. What do you think the Duke of Thunderclap will think of you?”

Rain Tomorrow kept his head down, his lips tightly shut. Fishscale Arm shook his head. “The Duke of Thunderclap has always treated this game as his job, his career. If anyone should know that, it’s you. That was what convinced me to give him my connections and support in the first place. If he gave you a spot in the test, it means he values you. But if he decides you’re not cut from the same cloth, he won’t hesitate to cast you aside.”

“I…” Rain Tomorrow opened his mouth, unsure what to say. Regret was certain—after all, both senior veterans here had chosen to side with Ember. That spoke volumes. He was also aware his own conduct hadn’t been clean, and if his boss found out, he’d definitely lose respect for him. After all, being repeatedly outmaneuvered by an ordinary player was hardly something to be proud of.

“I can promise you, I won’t tell the Duke of Thunderclap about this.”

What?

Rain Tomorrow’s face lit up with joy as he looked at the stern-faced Fishscale Arm, who pointed at Ember. “I heard his analysis just now—otherwise, you’d have been kicked out of the game already! There’s no benefit to any of us if you two fall out completely. But your repeated mistakes have made us uneasy. So, if you can do two things, I guarantee the Duke won’t hear about this.”

“Which two things?” Seeing Ember remain silent, Rain Tomorrow relaxed a little. He’d much rather deal with the higher-ranked Fishscale Arm than beg forgiveness from Ember.

“First, you have to promise not to attack Ember in the challenges ahead. The four of us will likely face a five-person difficulty co-op mission, and if we can’t resolve this conflict, we might as well split up now.”

“Agreed.” Rain Tomorrow nodded hastily; with Fishscale Arm’s warning, he dared not try any more backstabbing. Besides, he didn’t want to embarrass himself further.

“Second—you should offer him some form of compensation.”

Rain Tomorrow hesitated. He was extremely reluctant to compensate Ember, but what other solution was there? How should he compensate him anyway—send him money in real life? And how much would suffice?

At that moment, High Hand, who had been standing with crossed arms, suddenly spoke up: “I think giving him the Mimic Chest’s loot as compensation would be fair.”

Rain Tomorrow’s heart clenched. He was displeased—he’d fought hard for that item, and now it would end up benefiting Ember? Besides, the person in question hadn’t even spoken for himself; yet here were two others deciding on his behalf. What if he’d rather have money instead?

But Ember, who had until then remained silent, as if detached from the entire affair, suddenly nodded. “That’s fine. Give me the item, and I’ll let the matter drop.”

It had to be said that Fishscale Arm’s approach was quite thoughtful. He’d been pondering how to make Rain Tomorrow cooperate willingly, and now Fishscale Arm had offered a highly workable solution: holding his mistake over his head to ensure compliance worked far better than reasoning or appeals to emotion. Besides, Ember had noticed that Rain Tomorrow’s loot was identical to the inlay piece that High Hand had obtained.

High Hand had noticed the same thing and thus made the suggestion. Taking someone else’s item to offer as a peace token—everyone wins.

In the end, Rain Tomorrow reluctantly handed over the “Mimic Chest’s Broken Fang.” Yet the words of apology never left his lips. Ember didn’t bother with him either; their relationship was doomed to worsen, and he was content to maintain a fragile peace until the next challenge.

...

[Mimic Chest’s Broken Fang] (Basic)
Type: Inlay Item
Function: Adds 1–2 points of damage to a weapon
Description: This is a broken fang from a juvenile Mimic Chest. Embed it into a weapon with a slot to increase its attack power.
[Tip: Submit this item to the Foundation’s inlay specialist to have it set into the equipment of your choice, at a cost in credit points.]

...

Reviewing the item’s properties, Ember couldn’t help but smile. While the bonus was pitifully small, his own attack power was just as low. Checking his combat logs, even wielding the telescopic baton, his maximum damage didn’t exceed two points. Of course, his opponents didn’t have much health either—the Grey Mask had thirty, the Mimic Chest around sixty. If he could put this inlay to use, battles would become much easier, and he might even be able to pierce basic protective gear.

After the challenge, the four players followed the mission’s instructions to remain in place and recover.

The appearance of the Elder in the Suit seemed to draw a close to recent events—not only did the relentless Chaos Apostle vanish, but the facility’s power gradually returned, emergency lights giving way to warm, normal illumination, and even the communications range expanded to cover the area.

“Well done!”

This was a message sent to Ember by the control center supervisor, using his access card, urging him to complete the next challenge. Ember knew he had gained the supervisor’s attention—if he succeeded, their favor would increase further.

Using the game’s auto-pilot mode, Ember reclined in the massage chair inside his support pod. Ergonomically designed, the chair quickly eased his tense muscles. While the previous battles had the aid of support systems, the intensity of the action left him a bit weary, as it had for the others. All hoped to face the final challenge in top form.

Fishscale Arm, for once, rediscovered some enjoyment in the game; High Hand aimed to end with a victory; Rain Tomorrow, stung by defeat, was determined to redeem himself. Ember’s thoughts, however, drifted elsewhere.

So many materials—which should he choose?

It wasn’t until the timer neared eighty minutes that the Elder in the Suit reappeared, now accompanied by a flamboyantly dressed, multicolored clown.

“Old Tailor, are these the little ants who let you out?” The clown’s voice was chilling, his deathly white face twisted in a grotesque smile. Like a sleight-of-hand trick, he conjured several glowing orbs, tossing them from hand to hand. “Hehehe! Well, that’s just as well. I happen to need a new suit, and you’ve been a tailor all your life. Want to take your old bones apart and make me a costume?”

“I still don’t understand, after all your escapes, why you’d walk right into a trap,” the Elder in the Suit replied, his expression indifferent, ignoring the clown’s threats.

The clown cackled, “Hahaha! If you understood everything, why would you need to sneak into the ‘Farmer’s Manor’? Old Tailor, everything you want to know, I have. I could even help you steal it directly. Join the Chaos Beacon—become one of us, and you’ll never be shackled by those old relics again. This time, they locked you up just to keep you from learning the secret. What about next time? Will they take your life?”

The clown’s ominous words didn’t stir the Elder in the Suit at all. “I won’t seize the Farmer’s Manor just because I’m curious, and I won’t betray the Foundation just because of a rule. I’ve lived too long to return to a rootless existence. I appreciate your offer, good or ill, but spare me the rest. For old times’ sake, if you tell me the secret of the Manor, I might let you go.”

At this, Ember and the other three players finally understood: the clown had once been part of the Foundation, and had some history with the Elder Tailor. The Elder had been locked up for trying to uncover the Farmer’s Manor’s secrets. His composure likely came from confidence that he could overpower his foe, but the glowing orbs in the clown’s hands looked suspiciously like the explosive ones from before.

So the highest-ranking supervisor placed in confinement was that formidable? No wonder he could turn the tide.

“Heh! Don’t get cocky, Tailor! If I broke out once, I can do it again. Next time we meet, I won’t fall for your tricks.” The clown’s face twisted with hatred as he shot a venomous glare at the players. “You little pests ruined everything! So, Tailor, why did you bring me here?”

“I was just curious. Hand over an ‘Emotion Crystal,’” the Elder said calmly.

“What for? To feed them? Your curiosity is something else—sometimes I think you’re crazier than I am.” Without hesitation, the clown produced a dazzling, multicolored crystal, clearly favoring this kind of solution.

But instead of using it himself, the Elder tossed the ‘Emotion Crystal’ to a juvenile Mimic Chest. The crystal’s aura made the other chests in the room agitated, but under the Elder’s suppression, they could only watch as the weakest among them devoured the prize and began its longed-for evolution.

The clown, realizing the Elder’s true intent, looked both disappointed and shrewd.

“Since you stayed, you’ve automatically accepted the next challenge: a Mimic Chest on the verge of adolescence. It’ll provide more than enough pressure.” The Elder raised a hand, pointing with calm authority. “Your escape begins now. Once it overcomes its initial instability, it will hunt you down. I don’t expect you to defeat it—just to see how long you can survive.”

Fixing his gaze on the players, his voice cold and solemn, the Elder in the Suit declared, “You want to become strong? Then you must prepare to risk your life!”