Player World—August 16, 6:30 PM
Ethan had barely settled into his chair when a notification popped up.
Dr. Huang Yanyan: I pulled you into the official player channel. You can stay anonymous if you want, but don’t cause trouble. The group is internal—only official players.
The chat window opened.
Messages were already flying.
[CHAT]
Player 0097: Everyone, breathe. We’re confirming information and coordinating responses.
Player 0101: “Breathe”? People are dying. The undying can’t be killed!
Anonymous: Incitement quests are spreading. It’s getting worse every day.
Player 0097: We traced the “undying” buff to Sad Theater. It’s not invincible.
Anonymous: Sad Theater?! That place is a death sentence.
Player 0097: Player 0067 has been there. Rhine—if you have a method, say it now.
[/CHAT]
Ethan stared at the screen, jaw tight.
So it was official: the Undying Servant Body wasn’t just a rumor. It had already leaked into the real world, and it was feeding the Blood Rite like gasoline.
He typed.
[CHAT]
Player 0067: The Undying Servant Body is a “state.” It can be removed.
Anonymous: How?
Player 0067: You need materials from Sad Theater. Exact ones. No substitutions.
Player 0067: • A grain of Moonlight
Player 0067: • One bottle of Giant Python Blood
Player 0067: • One unmelted early-winter snowflake
Player 0067: Mix them in a Cinnabar Cup. Coat a rusted short blade with the solution.
Player 0067: After that, the “undying” can be killed.
Anonymous: That’s it? A recipe?
Player 0067: It’s a ritual disguised as loot. Do it wrong and it won’t work.
[/CHAT]
He hesitated, then added a warning.
[CHAT]
Player 0067: The blade has to be rusted iron. Not steel. Not silver. Rusted.
[/CHAT]
Ethan closed the chat and leaned back, listening to the city through the thin apartment walls. Somewhere outside, sirens rose and fell like a tide. Somewhere else, another person hit “record” and posted another “proof.”
The Blood Rite didn’t need believers.
It just needed momentum.
His thoughts drifted to Sad Theater—the seven lamps, the princess in white, the way the air tasted wrong near the stage.
Those materials… they weren’t random drops. They felt like props. Clues. Like the instance had been daring players to solve it.
If that was true, then next Cycle, he might finally have a way to kill the thing wearing a princess’s skin.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it.
He grabbed Flint and went back to the park lake.
He’d found a hidden angle behind the reeds—no cameras, no curious joggers, no police patrols. The koi were worse now, twitching beneath the surface, scales blotched dark, eyes too bright.
He waited until one broke the water like a pale knife and fired.
[SYSTEM]
You killed a severely contaminated koi.
Flint Fusion Progress +0.3%
Rank 3 Flint Total Fusion: 93.2%
[/SYSTEM]
Ethan exhaled through his teeth.
As he reloaded, the System’s death list refreshed.
Player 0429: Deceased.
Ethan’s fingers went cold.
Player 0429 had earned the Undying Servant Body through an Incitement Quest. If 0429 was dead, then the method worked.
He should have felt relief.
Instead, he felt the city’s weight settle on his shoulders.
Because if the undying could be killed, the Blood Rite would simply demand more blood.
Two days passed in a blur of sleep, fishing, and System prompts. Ethan learned how to disappear in broad daylight—how to slip into the Shadow Realm for a heartbeat, cross a short distance unseen, and pop back out in another blind spot. By the afternoon of August 18, Flint fusion had already climbed to 95%.
At exactly 5:00 PM, the sky over Cloud City dimmed as if someone had thrown a blanket over the sun.
The System chimed.
[SYSTEM]
Blood Rite Event Manifestation:
Progress +30%
Current progress: 60%
[/SYSTEM]
Ethan stared at the number.
Thirty percent. All at once.
His phone rang a second later.
“Rhine,” Dr. Huang said the moment he answered. Her voice was tight. “Get to the Institute.”
“The Cloud City Institute for Transcendent Research?” Ethan asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Ten o’clock. Team Lead Gao wants you in the briefing. Don’t be late.”
The line went dead.
The Institute was buried behind layers of security and bureaucracy, the kind of place that tried to look like a normal research center while quietly preparing for the end of the world.
Team Lead Gao met Ethan in a windowless briefing room. Older, clipped haircut, eyes like steel. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“We tested your method,” Gao said. “It works.”
Ethan nodded once. No satisfaction. Just necessity.
Gao continued, “The Abyss faction lost their edge. We’ve contained several flare-ups. But that’s not the real problem.”
He pointed to the whiteboard behind him. The words were blunt and ugly:
BLOOD RITE EVENT—CURRENT PROGRESS: 60%
Gao’s voice turned hard. “Headquarters believes there’s a way to halt the manifestation. Not permanently—but to interrupt the merge.”
Ethan frowned. “How?”
“By completing a Cycle task,” Gao said. “Some rewards affect the real world directly.”
Ethan’s mouth went dry.
Gao kept going. “We found a player whose Cycle task is clear: reach Rank 3, Position 5. He’s already Rank 3, Position 4.”
“One step away,” Ethan murmured.
“One step,” Gao agreed. “But he needs resources. His relic requires alchemical materials to upgrade. We have them. We can push him across the line.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “And this player—why isn’t he already official?”
Gao didn’t blink. “Some players refuse contact. Some hide. Some are too dangerous to approach until we have leverage.”
Dr. Huang stood beside the board, arms folded. “He’s coming,” she said. “Tomorrow afternoon. We’ll meet him first, then bring him here.”
Ethan looked from Gao to Huang.
The plan was clean on paper.
That was what worried him.