Chapter One: Duties

[Notification: The novice assessment has officially ended. You have received an “Outstanding” rating.]

[Notification: According to the credit point acquisition rules, you have received a total of 3,200 Foundation credit points. Credit points can be spent within the game, but during the testing period, the Singularity platform does not support credit point transactions.]

[Notification: Would you like to exit the game interface?]

“Yes.”

[Notification: Exiting Singularity Game ‘Anomaly Paradise’. We look forward to your return.]

“Whew!”

Removing the virtual helmet, shaking out his slightly damp hair, Ember turned up the air conditioning and increased the massage intensity, then collapsed onto the reclining massage chair and opened the dedicated discussion group for “Anomaly Paradise.” Before the game's official launch, Singularity had created this group, pulling in nearly all test players to release information related to the game.

This was the peak moment for the first batch of test players to log off, everyone eager to share their experiences. The group was chaotic, with every kind of comment imaginable.

Some praised the sensory suits, others admired the game design, some boasted about their gains, and of course, there were complaints about the difficulty, doubts about combat mechanics, and requests for answers.

Ember skimmed through the posts, finding little of value, then went to shower and sleep. As he knew, this was when those who relished gathering information truly began their work. When he awoke the next morning, there were indeed many organized posts summarizing game data.

Overall, most players rated Singularity’s new sensory suit favorably—immersion was noticeably improved. The sci-fi horror game style also won over a considerable portion of players. However, when it came to combat, reviews of “Anomaly Paradise” were mixed, mainly due to the insignificant effect of attributes and the overly crude calculation of attack and defense.

Looking deeper, it was players who rolled “Agility” or “Perception” talents who found their abilities almost useless, with extremely limited impact.

Yet amid the protests of agility and perception players, there were scattered dissenting voices, all citing “skills” as their counterargument. Among these, the renowned Scalearm posted his views, stressing the importance of attribute points for “skills” and the power of “skills” in general, somewhat calming the players’ anger.

This also let Ember know that Scalearm, at the end of the road, had delivered a devastating blow to the enhanced juvenile treasure chest monster.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with extra gains!”

Ember sighed and continued reading Singularity’s official explanation of attack and defense.

Attack less than defense yields no damage.

Such a simple principle applied to the game created odd scenarios. One player wearing armor rated “Weak” in defense was struck dozens of times with a weapon rated “Feeble” in attack before the armor’s durability was depleted. Even strikes to uncovered areas had the same effect. But if an armored player attacked with bare fists, even an opponent wielding a weapon would be beaten to death punch by punch.

For this rough combat system, Singularity explained that “Anomaly Paradise” reduced equipment slots to four, with only one providing basic defense, thus strengthening the role of armor for greater presence. However, a higher defense rating than attack does not guarantee invincibility; players can fulfill various attack conditions to lower opponents’ defense or quickly deplete armor durability.

As for specific methods, Singularity did not elaborate, but among thousands of testers, some accidentally triggered these conditions.

One player suffered repeated head strikes and entered a “broken armor” state, losing defensive protection in the exposed area. Despite plenty of armor durability remaining, their health plummeted. Even stranger, negative statuses appeared, affecting not only health but even sanity.

Ember paid close attention, reading many shared cases and concluding that his choice to remain calm was absolutely correct. Singularity’s intentions were clear: the novice trial was for familiarizing with the game, not for combat. Judging by the official attitude, a thrilling battle was surely on the horizon.

Apart from this, what players cared for most were the enigmatic anomalous equipment and the game’s background.

Ember was not the sole lucky one to obtain anomalous gear, but relevant information was scarce. Amusingly, upon acquiring the [Voracious Appetite of the Living Softbody], Ember was immediately booted from the game, with no time to inspect his new treasure. Stranger still, other players with anomalous equipment seemed unwilling to reveal its attributes, merely marveling at its power, leaving Ember’s curiosity unsatisfied, awaiting the next chance to play.

Yet compared to the scant details on anomalous gear, the background of “Anomaly Paradise” had been thoroughly explored.

As the name implies, Anomaly Paradise is closely tied to anomalous projects, with the main storyline revolving around them. Test players are assigned to one of three organizations: the Foundation, the Scavengers, or the University. Based on available information, all three are founded due to anomalies, but their attitudes differ.

The Foundation favors research, the Scavengers seek destruction, and the University attempts communication; these approaches shape the content players encounter.

For instance, Ember’s battle royale originated from “Chaos Lighthouse” launching a sudden assault to seize the Foundation’s research. Players in the Scavengers reported their tasks involved gathering anomaly information to fulfill destruction conditions. University players, however, varied widely—perhaps due to differing anomalies encountered, their main quests progressed in myriad ways.

At the end, both Scalearm and NotAnExpert, seasoned players, sent Ember friend requests.

Scalearm’s main purpose was a brief interview, as he’d taken a commission from a well-known review media. Naturally, he avoided sensitive questions, for after the novice trial ended, he learned the results of the fifth and final test would influence the official game. This was the main reason no one boasted about their anomalous gear—after all, hidden tricks are the most powerful.

NotAnExpert was more straightforward, just telling Ember to reach out if needed. Despite these connections, there was no guarantee tomorrow wouldn’t bring new schemes. Ember thanked them, chatted briefly, and left the discussion group, equally unwilling to publicize his gains.

Partly it was his nature, partly because he felt what he possessed was far from worthy of boasting.

Shaking his head, Ember stretched toward the rising sun, its warm rays shining on his still youthful face, dispelling the lingering gloom of night.

Then, he habitually began his true profession—

Painting!

There was one thing Ember had not lied about to TomorrowRain: he truly was an artist. Though the term was broad, he was, more specifically, a painter with some reputation in the field, famous not for his technique but for his peculiar style.

Ember painted only people. Since apprenticing under the master Three-Thousand, he drew a portrait daily for his teacher as tuition.

Fourteen years, never missing a day.

On the day he graduated, Three-Thousand entered the storeroom set aside for Ember, took his first and last paintings, handed them to Ember, and told him to get lost. Fourteen years of formal study left Ember with little social experience; though his skill could easily support him, Three-Thousand still arranged for an old friend to place him at a martial arts gym in Yangzhou.

Gyms these days do not teach traditional martial arts, nor are karate or taekwondo common. Owing to the rise of virtual combat, many players became enthusiastic about real fighting, prompting some fitness centers to transform into a hybrid of virtual cafes and gyms—a new industry.

The reason Three-Thousand placed Ember there was his belief that Ember’s physique was too frail, his aura too stagnant, and exposure to fresh experiences would benefit his development.

It proved wise. After half a year at the gym called “Hidden Tiger,” Ember’s vigor improved markedly, his body grew stronger, and his painting skills remained intact.

Now, Ember sat in his studio, using sketching to recreate the moment Brocade first revealed its grim reaper nature.

It’s worth mentioning that although Three-Thousand was a master of traditional painting, his interests were wide-ranging, even proficient in several instruments—hence his name. Ember studied only painting, mastering its techniques, and chose sketching simply because he felt it suited the scene best.

Between light and shadow, a decapitated guard stood at the center of the composition. White lines representing the beam of light broke through the black background, converging on him. The guard’s expression was unseen, his head bashfully hidden behind his back, while the wielders of flashlights showed faces of terror or fury. Th