Gamers Are Fierce No Chapter 658 - 656: Blocking the Road

Li Ang thought for a mont. "What does the rulebook say? Is there a restriction against forming teams?"

"It doesn't say."

Sunset Gold Slter spread his hands. "Besides, this won't stop those who are determined. After all, this rulebook is quite brief. Players willing to cooperate can simply communicate with glances, secretly collaborate, and not violate any of its rules. Furthermore, I just consulted the guide, and she ntioned that teams ganging up to slaughter other convoys has happened before in the history of the Death Race. It occurred in the last two tournants."

"That's troubleso."

The corners of Witch's mouth twitched. "No wonder the leading teams in the first tier are intentionally hanging back behind Kratos, by tacit agreent. They haven't attacked one another and entered the service area at almost the sa ti. Are they afraid of being slaughtered by Kratos if they venture out alone?"

"That's a possibility."

Sunset Gold Slter furrowed his brow and sighed. "The best outco would be for those few teams and Kratos to get tangled up, delaying each other at the exit. That would give us just enough ti to drive out of the service area, escape the blockade amid the chaos, and accelerate full throttle towards the finish line. But that's too idealistic. The worst outco would be Kratos single-handedly wiping out those teams. Then it would be our turn: kicked out of the service area to face Kratos alone."

At this, the three players fell silent for a mont. They were considered strong experts among the players, the cream of the crop. Yet, the thought of facing Kratos—who slaughtered deities as casually as one might butcher chickens, even a weakened, younger, low-spec version of him—was still unnerving.

"Don't be so pessimistic."

Seeing his companions' gloomy expressions, Li Ang smiled and said, "There's another possibility. During the standoff, one of the cars from the leading teams might manage to break out of Kratos's encirclent. This would force Kratos to abandon the slaughter and give chase to ensure his first-place position isn't stolen. If that happens, the rest of the teams, including us, might have a glimr of hope."

"...That is a possibility."

Sunset Gold Slter frowned slightly and looked toward the front of the service area, murmuring, "Let's hope the other teams can put up a good fight..."

As they spoke, their rest ti was nearly up. Ahead of them, the first-tier vehicles that had entered the service area earlier were now beginning to exit and re-enter the track.

The third track was different from the first two. According to the rulebook, the terrain of the Bloody Racetrack changes radically every year. The only constant is the presence of restrictive terrain features, designed to allow teams with less individual combat strength to use the geography to their advantage and gain speed.

This year, the entrance to the Bloody Racetrack was a vast, flat desert expanse: yellow sand, gravel, occasional tumbleweeds rolling across the road, a monotonously eerie blue sky, imnse cacti standing solemnly under the scorching sun, and a straight highway bisecting the desert.

Gazing at the road unfolding before them, Sunset Gold Slter murmured to himself, "This road... it looks like Desert Bus."

"Uh, what bus?"

Witch raised an eyebrow. "Is that the na of a ga too?"

"Yeah."

Li Ang nodded. "It's one of the most boring gas ever made. Players have to drive a bus from Tucson, Arizona, across the desert, all the way to a virtual ho in Las Vegas."

"That sounds pretty normal. Why is it so boring?"

Witch was puzzled. "It has to be better than those mountain or rock simulator gas, right?"

"...You might not know this," Sunset Gold Slter said, his tone subtle, "but this ga strives for complete realism. The in-ga ti progresses at the sa speed as real-world ti. Players genuinely have to drive for eight hours straight in the real world to cover the 600 kiloters. Plus, the scenery is virtually identical the entire way. There are no changing views, no landscapes to admire, no other vehicles, and no passengers getting on or off. On top of that, the handling is atrocious. The bus automatically drifts to the right, and if you're not careful for even a mont, you'll drive into the desert, get stuck, and have to start all over again."

"And that's not even the most perverse part," Li Ang added. "You can't pause or save the ga. If you stop the bus, it overheats, forcing you to restart the entire drive from the beginning. And after you finally complete the drive, you get no reward whatsoever—just a single point on the results screen and a prompt to play again."

Witch's lip twitched. "...Then what's the point of this ga?"

"Satire, mockery, and parody," Sunset Gold Slter said, spreading his hands with a sigh. "Because the ga is so profoundly boring, it achieves a kind of dark humor rooted in magical realism. The work most people do in the real world is just like Desert Bus: chanical, numbing, utterly devoid of creativity, passion, or any sense of achievent. Apart from earning money to survive, it's completely aningless. It's nothing like the lives of those elites who amass fortunes through exploitation and then use that wealth to pursue so-called 'rich, self-actualizing lives.' As you play, it makes you start pondering life, reality, family, work, and the aning of it all. It's almost a piece of performance art designed to awaken modern society from its stupor."

The four mbers of his Iron Horse squad, himself included, had actually managed to complete Desert Bus during one of their gatherings. Afterwards, they strongly recomnded to their superiors that "completing Desert Bus in its entirety" be made a mandatory requirent for joining the Whale Song Organization. It would serve as proof that prospective mbers understood the organization's sacred duty: to liberate the great mass of laborers from exploitation.

As for Li Ang, he had played the ga... to spite his class president, to prove who could endure more tedium. The loser had to pay for a week's worth of seaweed rice ball breakfasts from the stall at the school gate.

Predictably, Li Ang—a person with the patience to na each of his leg hairs and invent epic sagas for them—had won.

Under the complicated stares of the other racers, Kratos drove his low-profile vehicle onto the desert highway. After covering so distance, he slowly ca to a halt.

The pale-skinned, bald brute parked his vehicle sideways, blocking the road. He then stood atop it, surveyed all the racers in the service area, and silently drew his Chaos Twin Blades.

"This far, and no further."

Kratos raised his blades, his voice slow and deliberate. "Surrender and forfeit the race, or attempt to pass and be killed by . The choice is yours."