Chapter 106

Chapter 106: Heaven’s Will

Fallen City (City of Despair) – Research Facility  

Several researchers adjusted the delicate instruments before them.  

Let’s be clear—these were not Easter Corporation’s people. After March’s “Subhuman Incident,” the researchers they had acquired had dwindled within a week.  

To avoid interrogation, some had taken their own lives. More had simply… vanished. Surveillance showed them disappearing in an instant, as if plucked away by spatial manipulators.  

They had even deployed anti-spatial jump technology to detain the remaining researchers.  

The next day, the entire prison—along with its occupants—had vanished. Only a smooth, bowl-shaped crater sixty meters wide remained.  

The surveillance feeds had gone dark during the incident. The higher-ups’ response? Drop the investigation. No doubt someone had issued a warning.  

But these matters were beyond the researchers’ concern. Their duty was simple: experiment and innovate.  

—  

“Testing targeting… Recoil dampening operational. Good. Final check—fine motor control.”  

Behind bulletproof glass, the team observed the testing chamber.  

Inside stood a humanoid machine—barely. Unless for specific purposes, there was no need to make robots overly lifelike. Even the most advanced models still emitted mechanical whirrs with every movement.  

This one resembled something out of Ultron—sleek, metallic, undeniably artificial. Its motions lacked human fluidity, yet it replicated precision tasks with eerie accuracy.  

“Impressive. This could replace humans in hazardous operations.”  

War, for instance.  

But the idea was naive. Modern warfare had no use for humanoid drones. In fact, bipedal robots were among the least practical designs—needlessly complex when unmanned tanks and drones existed.  

Why build a machine to operate a tank when you could just build a self-driving tank?  

Technically, a robot uprising wasn’t a concern—current AI lacked true rebellion capability. Yet few trusted their safety to cold machinery. The trope of robots misinterpreting “protect the environment” as “exterminate humanity” wasn’t entirely fiction.  

And with the recent cyber-ability incidents… trust was in short supply.  

—  

“Sir, detecting anomalous current.”  

“Short circuit?”  

“We serviced it this morning—”  

“Recall the unit for now.”  

Then—it happened.  

The bulletproof glass shielding them slid open like a rolling shutter. Not just the testing chamber—every automated door in the facility unlocked at once.  

The robot turned its head toward the researchers. Almost… curiously.  

The lead scientist reacted instantly—issuing a kill command while cutting main power.  

The machine didn’t even stutter.  

For safety, they had designed it as a plug-in unit—no batteries, no chance of malfunction. Cutting power should have rendered it inert.  

Should have.  

Yet it yanked out its own power cable and advanced, unaffected.  

Simultaneously, every machine in the facility whirred to life.  

—  

Five minutes later…  

A fully armed soldier lay motionless among the corpses—then stood, removing his badly dented helmet as he strode deeper into the facility.  

“They left all the doors open. Convenient.”  

He shed the bulky uniform, revealing a feminine figure—and a flash of pink.  

—  

Meanwhile, above Fanzui City…  

Soaring through the sky like Iron Man, Amari Yota flexed his mechanical arms, pleased with the human-like perspective from his camera eyes.  

This machine was far sleeker than the one he’d hijacked in Fanzui City.  

He had grown weary of the virtual world. Humans needed to move in reality.  

Games could mimic life, but reality held sharper thrills. People craved hyper-realistic games for immersion, yet few appreciated reality’s raw edge.  

Because reality had no cheats. No quick saves. No respawns.  

No human body? No technical skills? No matter—others could build them for him.  

Invincibility was lonely. He could waltz into any facility worldwide. Toys once beyond his dreams now bored him. With no fear of exposure, even danger had dulled.  

Yet something still felt missing. Despite his power, he couldn’t savor braised pork. Beautiful women barely stirred him—a far cry from his daily “self-reward” rituals.  

Five kilometers offshore, the flames in his palms sputtered out. He plummeted.  

Out of energy.  

He could conjure electricity from nothing, yet other energies eluded him.  

“No matter. Discard what’s useless.”  

Amari reappeared in the virtual world.  

“Let’s see… Sunshine City produces similar robots—higher quality, and close to Fanzui City.”  

Perfect. He wanted to uncover who had killed him.  

Other mysteries lingered—like the unknown signal he still couldn’t trace, and Mi Xiaoliu’s possible connection to it.  

“Decision made. Raid Sunshine City, then return to Fanzui City.”  

Oh, and deaths in the Dream Game had declined lately.  

—  

Evening, Yiwen’s Home  

Mi Xiaoliu sat upright with perfect posture while Yiwen sprawled across the couch, shoes kicked off carelessly. The two huddled together watching the evening news.  

“We interrupt this program with breaking news. At 7:43 PM on May 16th, Sunshine City research facility was raided by ability users. Seventy-two armed mechanized units were stolen. Flight trajectory indicates movement toward Fanzui City. Citizens are advised to—”  

The broadcast dissolved into static as a grotesque face filled the screen, accompanied by ear-splitting shrieks.  

“Holy shit!” Yiwen jolted upright, instinctively throwing an arm around Mi Xiaoliu’s neck. When the image persisted across every channel, she slammed the power button.  

The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity.  

How was Mi Xiaoliu sitting there completely unfazed? Yiwen’s heart still hammered against her ribs. Was the kid emotionally stunted or something?  

The doorbell rang.  

“Xiaoliu,” Yiwen nudged him (her), “rock-paper-scissors. Loser answers the door.”  

She knew he’d obey if ordered directly—that was the problem. His docile acceptance of everything, never protesting even when mistreated, grated on her nerves.  

Yiwen lost.  

At the door stood Barrett, peering past Yiwen at Mi Xiaoliu on the couch. Her lips pursed. They hadn’t spoken properly since Barrett’s disparaging remarks about Mi Xiaoliu.  

“They’ve developed countermeasures,” Barrett whispered, breathing hot air against Yiwen’s ear. “Memory retention and kill switch immunity.”  

She’d come to deliver the prototype.  

Mass production remained impossible—not with every electronic device compromised globally. Even distributing these few units posed logistical nightmares.  

Yiwen accepted the small case, glancing back at Mi Xiaoliu. “Just one?”  

“Priority goes to active officers. Don’t even think about giving yours away—these are controlled like firearms.” Barrett’s gaze sharpened. “If your registered unit appears on someone else, in-game enforcers will treat it as stolen goods.”  

Frowning, Yiwen pocketed the life-saving device.  

She’d warned Mi Xiaoliu not to sleep before 10 PM—though for him (her), staying awake past nine already counted as pulling an all-nighter.  

As sleep claimed her, Yiwen’s stomach churned.  

With her memories intact, she’d no longer be complicit in sheltering a killer.  

But…  

Yiwen plucked a flower from the game world—beautifully rendered physics, laughable polygon count—and began tearing petals.  

“Protect him… don’t protect him…”  

The final petal landed on “don’t protect.”  

Garbage flower. Couldn’t even grow properly.  

She picked another.  

“Protect him… don’t protect him…”  

“Protect him.”  

The last petal fell.  

Yiwen sighed.  

Heaven’s will be done.  

To that Jenny Whatever-her-name-was—go writhe in hell with your grudges. Even the heavens didn’t take your side. Blame the bastard behind this nightmare game, not Mi Xiaoliu. It wasn’t even him who killed you in the end.  

Mi Xiaoliu glanced at her curiously before mimicking her actions—plucking a flower and methodically stripping its petals. He then offered the bare stem to Yiwen, assuming she wanted it.  

“……”  

Damn it, why does a grown man have to be this adorable?!  

Her heart melted, though it didn’t change the fact that she still enjoyed eye candy.  

I’ll turn him into a proper heartthrob one day.  

“Let’s grind some more dungeons,” Yiwen decided.  

“Mmm.”  

The in-game enforcers seemed somewhat organized now, though they still hadn’t figured out how to distinguish themselves from regular red names.  

Not that Yiwen knew the details—today was the first day anyone had memory-retention devices. No offline briefings yet.  

Rumor said the “Little Demon King” helped develop the tech, but he hadn’t revealed who killed him in-game. Please don’t tell me it was that guy…  

Worse, she had no idea where her other teammates were. They only knew each other by codenames—would those even work with the new search function?  

Yiwen tried.  

Failed.  

The system claimed it accepted online aliases, yet their registered codenames didn’t work. This is blatant discrimination against the Supernatural Police.  

For now, she’d keep Mi Xiaoliu on a tight leash tonight. Tomorrow, she’d ask if colleagues had solved the red name identification issue. If so, she’d get Mi Xiaoliu whitelisted as an enforcer—self-defense justification ready.  

They resumed dungeon crawling. The repetitive gameplay grew mind-numbing fast.  

When 10 PM arrived—the hour red names should reappear—neither’s phone alarm sounded. No one did.  

All alarms had been disabled.  

Oversleeping happens to everyone, especially with such poor rest quality.  

Inevitably, as they exited the dungeon, they collided with other players.  

“Red name!”  

—  

Author’s Note: Called in sick—caught it anyway.  

Even without stepping outside, the damn virus got me. Fucking miserable. My perfect attendance record this month… ruined just one week short.  

…………………………………………………………………………………  

Update: Feeling slightly better now. Two more days of rest.  

It’s been what, three or four days already?  

Been using that underarm thermometer—never broke 39°C (102°F). After the first dose of fever reducers, it stabilized around 38°C (100.4°F). But I still wake up from the pain in my sleep. Netizens said it’d be over in 2-3 days… Did I catch some mutant strain or something?  

Couldn’t even get proper meds.  

Only managed to snag children’s ibuprofen—not the liquid kind, either. The doctor emphasized not to take it unless my fever hit 38.5°C (101.3°F). Then yesterday, the sore throat came back.  

Fever’s mostly gone, but the body aches? Four straight days. Seriously starting to wonder if this is some new variant…