Player World—August 19, 3:30 PM
Player 0776 stood on broken concrete, looking down into the foundation pit like it was a holy place.
The construction site had been abandoned mid-project. Rebar stuck out like ribs. Half-finished walls crumbled into dust. No cameras, no witnesses—just ruin under a bruised sky.
Qi Heng knelt at the edge, wrists bound behind him. Dr. Huang Yanyan and the researcher, Wang, were tied beside him.
A red fog pooled at the bottom of the pit, thick and wet-looking, pulsing like something alive.
0776 breathed it in like perfume.
He opened his status panel and watched the numbers climb.
[SYSTEM]
Blood Rite Event Manifestation Status:
Current progress: 60%
World Merge Rate: 0.1
[/SYSTEM]
“So close,” 0776 murmured, eyes shining. “So close to the real thing.”
Qi forced himself to speak through the nausea. “This isn’t ‘real.’ This is a disaster.”
0776 laughed softly. “You officials keep calling it a ‘Blood Rite Event’ like it’s weather. Like it’s a phenomenon.”
He pointed into the pit.
“It’s a door.”
Dr. Huang’s lips were pale. “And you think sacrificing us opens it.”
“It doesn’t just open,” 0776 said. “It responds. Like any living thing.”
He tapped his chest again, almost affectionate.
“Undying Devotee,” he whispered. “The reward you fear.”
Dr. Huang’s gaze snapped to him. “You’re not immortal. You’re just cursed.”
“Call it whatever you want,” 0776 said. “I call it proof.”
The sky darkened a shade deeper.
Qi’s stomach dropped. “You’re going to do this at five.”
0776 smiled, calm and delighted. “At five, she tries to cross. I’ll be there when it happens.”
—
By late afternoon, the park lake felt like the center of the world.
The air over the water was wrong—heavy, metallic, tinged with something that made Ethan’s instincts scream. The sky above Cloud City had taken on a faint blood tint, as if someone had washed the clouds in diluted red.
Ethan kept fishing anyway.
He had no other option.
His hands were raw from line and hook. He’d been at it since dawn, slipping between blind spots, burning stamina like fuel. Every cast was a countdown.
He checked his fusion again.
99.4%.
Close.
Too close to stop.
His phone buzzed—outgoing call.
Dr. Huang.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
On the third call, the line connected—then cut off instantly, like someone had slapped the screen.
Ethan’s heart sank.
—
At 4:50 PM, the System chimed again—sharp and cold.
[SYSTEM]
Blood Rite Event Manifestation:
Progress +40%
Current progress: 100%
World Merge Rate: 0.1
[/SYSTEM]
Ethan’s throat tightened.
One hundred percent.
He felt it in the city’s silence, in the way even the wind seemed to hesitate.
His float jerked violently.
Not a nibble.
A yank hard enough to nearly rip the rod from his hands.
Ethan braced and hauled, feeling something heavy thrash beneath the surface.
The koi that surfaced wasn’t a koi anymore.
Its scales were blotched black-red. Its gills fluttered like torn fabric. Its eyes were too bright, too aware.
And the smell rising off it wasn’t pond water.
It was rot.
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
He raised Flint and fired.
[SYSTEM]
You killed a severely contaminated koi.
Flint Fusion Progress +0.6%
Rank 3 Flint Total Fusion: 100%
[/SYSTEM]
For a heartbeat, Ethan couldn’t breathe.
The System slammed down the notification he’d been chasing for days.
[SYSTEM]
Advancement Complete.
You have advanced to Rank 3 Hunter.
New Skill: Tracking Shot
Spirit Enhancement: +5%
Agility Enhancement: +5%
[/SYSTEM]
Ethan’s hands shook.
Not from joy.
From the sudden, impossible thought that this might actually matter.
A deeper chime followed, like something in the world itself had been struck.
[SYSTEM]
Cycle Task Complete: Player 0067
[/SYSTEM]
Across every channel—
[SYSTEM]
All Players Announcement:
Player 0067 (ID: 2271-0067) has completed the Cycle task.
Reward:
Stop one world-merge event. Blood Rite manifestation halted.
Reward:
Next batch of players delayed by three months.
[/SYSTEM]
The blood tint in the clouds above the lake… paused.
It began to drain away, slow at first, then faster, sunlight bleeding back into the sky like someone turning the lights on in a room.
Ethan stood on the shoreline, soaked and exhausted, watching the world remember how to be normal.
In the official chat, messages exploded—relief, disbelief, laughter that sounded half-hysterical.
Ethan didn’t read them.
He only felt the pressure easing, the strange “supernatural” weight pressing down on the real world growing lighter.
He walked home under a sky that looked almost ordinary again.
At his door, he tried calling Dr. Huang one more time.
Before the call could connect, his phone rang.
A number from Maple River Substation.
Ethan answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ethan?” a man asked.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“This is Officer Gong Yong from Maple River Substation,” the man said, voice controlled. “Dr. Huang Yanyan was shot during an arrest operation. She’s in surgery at Cloud City People’s Hospital. You’re listed as her emergency contact. Her parents aren’t in the city right now—could you come as soon as possible?”
Ethan’s blood went cold.
“Shot?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Gong said. “The bullet nearly hit her spine. She’s lucky.”
Ethan didn’t reply for a second. Then he forced his voice steady.
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up, grabbed a jacket, and pulled on a pair of glasses and a mask—partly to avoid the hospital’s cameras, partly because he didn’t want to run into certain players in person. If Perry was there, for example, that would be a whole new problem.
On the ride over, Ethan made himself think through the simplest lie.
If anyone asked, he could admit he was a player. He wouldn’t be free anymore, not in the normal sense—but at least he wouldn’t have to hide. The only thing he’d need to keep clear was what he’d done in the game world.
Cloud City People’s Hospital was bright, sterile, and loud in the way hospitals always were. Nurses walked fast. Families whispered. Monitors beeped like metronomes.
Gong met him in the hallway.
“Only Dr. Huang was seriously injured,” he said. “Qi Heng and Wang took minor wounds. They’ve already gone home.”
Ethan’s shoulders loosened—just a fraction. “Good.”
Gong looked at him oddly but didn’t question it. “She’s out of surgery. The bullet was removed. Her condition is stable.”
Stable.
Ethan exhaled, slow.
Dr. Huang was a Lightcaller. If she’d needed surgery, the wound hadn’t been just “serious.”
It had been fatal.
Ethan was led into a private room. Dr. Huang lay in the bed with her eyes closed, pale but breathing evenly. Bandages wrapped her shoulder. An IV line ran into her arm.
She looked smaller without her lab coat.
Ethan sat in the chair beside the bed and waited.
An hour later, her eyelids fluttered.
She opened her eyes, saw him, and gave a weak, crooked smile.
“You came,” she rasped.
“You were shot,” Ethan said. “How could I not?”
Dr. Huang tried to laugh and winced. “Occupational hazard.”
Ethan didn’t scold her. He wanted to. The words sat on his tongue—Quit. Step back. Stop throwing yourself into the mouth of this thing.
But he swallowed them.
Because he finally understood something.
In this new world, quitting your job didn’t mean quitting the danger.
Dr. Huang watched him for a beat, then frowned. “Huh? Why didn’t you tell me to quit this time? You used to say it every time we met.”
Ethan looked at her, and for a moment, the hospital lights felt dim.
He thought of the System’s announcement.
Stop one world-merge event.
Blood Rite halted.
Delay the next batch by three months.
A small, impossible breath of space.
Hope.
He thought of everything still waiting beyond that.
And he realized the road was going to be long.