Chapter Two: What Was Seen at the Manor

“You really are far too petty. That’s not good; you need to change.”
The voice from behind commented on Ember’s character, continuing to grumble, “By the way, did you burn that painting of mine? It’s normal for sparring to leave a few bruises, but did you have to paint me as some ferocious monster?”
Ignoring the complaints, Ember finished the last stroke with steady precision and finally replied, “Normal sparring wouldn’t have left my nose nearly broken, so bad I couldn’t pick up a brush for two days. And whether I burned it or not hardly matters. Two days was enough for me to remember every detail of that punch—your eyes shining with excitement, that mischievous grin you couldn’t be bothered to hide, body leaning forward, left fist following close behind. If I hadn’t collapsed immediately, you might’ve given me a concussion.”
Ember stood, picked up the painting, shook the paper, blew away the black dust, and placed it in the section of his art archive labeled “Phantoms” in the Snow District. Only then did he turn to look at the big-eyed girl who had commandeered his seat, thinking with a sigh of resignation.
“When will I ever beat this girl?”
When he first arrived at Hidden Tiger Martial Arts Hall, Ember had gotten entangled in a bizarre misunderstanding with this girl, Mia. New and bewildered, he had no idea what he’d done to offend her, but before he could figure it out, she had dragged him into the ring for a sparring match. Sparring? Fine. Ember thought, how could a guy like me lose to a girl? The answer: skill is skill.
Later, he learned Mia had intentionally provoked him because she didn’t want him living in her house—hoping to discourage him. But as the fight escalated, her punch nearly broke his nose, and the incident was never brought up again. So, Ember ended up staying at her place.
Still, he’d lost a fair bit of face, and his drive to train only grew. Over half a year, his vigor improved and his muscles grew. He sparred with Mia often to sharpen his combat skills and reclaim his pride, but she was shrewd—knowing her strength was falling behind, she switched to using powered exoskeletons and adopted virtual competition scoring, all under the guise of “preventing accidents.”
For a while, Ember was thoroughly outmatched. After all, skill comes from years of practice. Though his hands were steady from years of painting and personal discipline, he still couldn’t gain much advantage.
But practice makes perfect. Ember gradually shifted the balance from one to nine to three to seven. He was confident that, with persistence, even a four-six or five-five split was possible.
His thoughts settled as he glanced at the girl before him, dressed lightly and seemingly defenseless. He turned to leave; after half a year’s acquaintance, he knew that when she flashed her canine teeth, trouble was sure to follow.
Seeing Ember attempt to slip away unnoticed, Mia darted in front of him like a nimble cat. Her well-proportioned figure was only a head shorter than Ember’s. She narrowed her bright, watery eyes, baring her white, sharp teeth. “Don’t be in such a hurry! I’m not a monster, you know.”
Ember gave a wry smile. The painting he’d made of Mia was now locked away in the “Demons” section of his archive.
“Hey, I don’t know how you got so lucky—even drew test eligibility. I just wanted to ask about your experience, and maybe ask you for a favor!”
Watching Mia’s radiant smile, Ember was skeptical, but he briefly recounted his gaming journey, explained the origin of the painting, and finally asked, “What is it?”
Mia nodded, hands on her hips, chest out, and let out a snort. “Good, you haven’t been petty lately; maybe you’re not a lost cause after all. As for the favor, a friend of mine suddenly wants a portrait, so I introduced you. She checked your credentials, liked what she saw, and made an appointment—about four or five days from now, just when the beta ends.”
“Huh? That’s it? You’re suddenly so generous as to recommend me?” Ember was puzzled; usually, he’d count himself lucky if Mia wasn’t making trouble for him.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I’m some scheming villain?” Mia rolled her eyes, then coughed softly and leaned in to whisper, “Honestly, I do have a little request.”
Ember’s expression said, “As expected.” “Out with it!”
“My friend made a bet with me and refused to admit defeat, so I’d like you to paint a demon portrait—not too ugly, just like the one you did for me.”
With that, Mia darted behind Ember, her delicate hands kneading his shoulders with just the right pressure, making him quite comfortable.
“Demons” and “Phantoms” were styles Ember developed after being influenced by the art and philosophy of Titan—imaginative extensions based on human figures, incorporating various mythic elements. The portrait he painted for Mia was his first attempt at a “Demon” piece. She complained about it, but Ember had often caught her playfully mimicking the painting’s pose in selfies, regretting she couldn’t truly embody its unique aura.
Back to the matter at hand, though the massage was pleasant, Ember didn’t agree outright—professional integrity prevailed; he’d decide later. The next half day passed with various chores and training, and soon it was midnight—the start of the new game beta.
By then, all test players had completed their first trial, and Ember had seen the compiled statistics.
Over a thousand players had completed about three hundred trials. Divided by game factions, Foundation, Sweepers, and University each claimed roughly a third. The game content wasn’t identical—Ember’s group, for instance, had a battle royale. The stats showed ten such events: five on easy, three on normal, and two on hard difficulty.
Though specifics of completion rates weren’t available, players’ descriptions revealed significant differences. Clearly, the designers of Anomaly Paradise had introduced variables to prevent strategies from spreading too quickly.
The final stats also listed the number of suspected players who obtained anomalous equipment—four, which matched Ember’s expectations. Only those who’d experienced it firsthand knew how difficult it was to obtain such gear.
As midnight approached, the discussion group grew livelier than the night before; everyone hoped for a good return from this test, some even rearranging their schedules to be rested for the game.
When the time came, players entered the game; Ember was no exception. He was eager to see what was special about the anomalous equipment he’d acquired.
...
[The Foundation is a vast organization, with members throughout the world of the Paradise, so dissent and disputes are inevitable.]
[Due to frequent incidents of upper management violating protocol out of curiosity to investigate the “Manor,” after consultation and with the Farmer’s approval, we have decided to temporarily open the “Manor,” allowing some new employees who performed exceptionally in their first trial to visit. The Farmer will handle reception.]
[You have been recommended by the highest authority of Facility Nineteen and have arrived at the Manor for a tour.]
[Please obey the Manor’s rules; any violation will see you expelled and permanently banned as an unwelcome guest.]
...
The login prompt confirmed Ember’s earlier suspicions—he had indeed been sent to the Manor for a tour.
The scene shifted, and Ember found himself seated in a sightseeing vehicle, just leaving a golden wheat field and heading toward a dense forest in the distance.
“What you just saw was a specially cultivated wheat field. The harvest is mainly used for food and medical research. Some of you may have used healing agents—their ingredients include this special wheat.”
This explanation was unremarkable, but what drew Ember’s attention was the “person” speaking.
The guide, seated in the front passenger seat, held a microphone and looked back at the four players seated behind. None of them could see the guide’s eyes, because the guide was a talking carnivorous plant. The players were quite certain the plant was contemplating how best to eat them—the mouth occupying nearly half its face was filled with saliva, and the purple tongue kept licking its lips, swallowing constantly during the introduction.
“Don’t worry, you’re guests. Though not welcome, you won’t be in danger unless you break the rules. Hey, big mouth, stop looking disgusting or I’ll kick you off.”
A ghostly voice floated from the driver’s seat. There sat a peculiar creature resembling a sunflower. Ember saw through the rearview mirror that the driver gripped the wheel with one hand and rested the other on the window—his face was a sunflower, seeds and all. From his impatient expression, it was clear his mood was sour. The carnivorous plant guide, chastened, wiped away the drool with a vine-hand and sat obediently.
The players were speechless.
What on earth was this place?
…
Trial Name: [A Day at the Manor]
Objective: Investigate the Manor’s hidden truth
Difficulty: Hard
Description: The highest authority of Facility Nineteen recently detected strange spatial fluctuations near the Manor, but their investigation was obstructed, and they were placed under house arrest after protests from the Farmer. Now, thanks to intervention from the Foundation’s upper management, you have been granted access to the Manor and the source of the disturbance. The facility’s chief requests that you seek out the secrets hidden in the Manor. To aid your mission, the control center manager has provided several conveniences as instructed by the chief.
[Tip: You have gained the temporary skill “Eye of Investigation.”]
[Tip: You have received consumable item “Basic Healing Spray.”]
[Tip: You have lost single-use consumables “Equipment Repair Stone (Basic)” and “Chest Monster’s Broken Tooth (Basic).”]
[Tip: Your weapon “Damaged Extendable Baton” has been properly repaired and is now “Standard Extendable Baton.”]
[Tip: Your non-essential attribute points have been reset; you now possess two key attribute points.]
[Every Foundation member may be assigned to a task with no warning. My apologies for making certain decisions while you slept, but this allowed me to implant temporary information for your “Eye of Investigation.” Also, I have paid for your weapon repair and upgrade fees—consider it a token of goodwill. I hope you won’t disappoint the chief or myself. — Control Center Manager.]