Chapter 196: Rast, Begins the Speedrun
Rast reached out and picked up Dean Silver, who was squatting in front of the keyboard passionately arguing, and placed her to the side.
Then, he picked up the sci-fi styled headband.
"Fully Imrsive Virtual Reality Ga Helt"
This was the full na of the small, sci-fi-scented headband in Rast’s hand.
Just as countless fantasy novels had described, once one wore the headband, they could, through a neural interface, directly perceive the five senses simulated by electrical signals.
This kind of technological product, which in the Present World still only existed in the blueprints and designs of the chanists, and not even a prototype had been produced, had seemingly already been widely popularized and fully civilianized in the Historical Echo of the Sixth Era’s Nightworld.
Due to its complete civilianization, the usage of the ga headband was also simple. Rast only needed to try it once to grasp its usage thod.
He turned his head and looked at Dean Silver, who was squatting beside the computer desk, rubbing her little paws in anticipation: “Then I’ll be leaving my body in the Present World to you, Dean Silver. If anything happens, like a premature outbreak of the Disaster of the chanists, be sure to call to log out.”
“Don’t worry, leave it to !”
Dean Silver wagged her tail, urging impatiently, “Forget just an outbreak, even if this ga suddenly becos a death ga where one cannot log out, I still have a way to get you out.”
“Hurry and log in, I’m still waiting to watch the livestream!”
“ playing a death ga inside a death ga… why does that sound so convoluted?”
Rast connected the cables, then found a comfortable position on the soft large bed and lay down, putting the virtual headband onto his head.
Next, he reached out and pressed the power button on the side of the headband.
Ding—
Following a crisp system chi, Rast felt his consciousness being pulled by a stream of data and entered an entirely new illusory world.
This sensation was not unfamiliar to Rast; it felt quite similar to when he entered the Historical Echo of the Nightworld.
The only difference was that compared to the Nightworld, the consciousness guidance process of this virtual ga felt cruder and stiffer, showcasing a massive gap in technological prowess.
Of course—
From another perspective, if these rough details were polished and perfected, then from the view of an ordinary person, it would probably be impossible to distinguish between virtual reality and the Nightworld.
"Welco to the virtual reality ga 'Shoreguards’ Ballad'"
"In this ga, you will beco a traveler through history, traversing ti and space to arrive centuries ago, in that dark era of chaos following the great Cataclysm, and together with the heroes who once saved the spark of civilization amid the turmoil, you will experience that epic period."
"Detected new citizen iris data, registering your exclusive new account"
"In accordance with federal laws and regulations, this ga requires iris authentication during gaplay. Our company is committed to protecting users’ personal privacy. Collected iris and identity information will only be used for authentication purposes."
"Please proceed with the ga after confirming you have read the ‘Ga Privacy Policy’."
Accompanied by a soft female voice, Rast saw lines of text rapidly scrolling past before his eyes.
And when the floating text disappeared, a densely packed “Ga Privacy Protection Guide” ca into view.
“Co on…”
“This ga fits the stereotype I had in my previous life a little too well, doesn’t it?”
Rast couldn’t help but pause slightly.
Though it’s true that the developnt of human civilization often leads to similar destinations through different paths, reaching the sa endpoint to this extent still felt overly abstract to him.
But Rast soon realized—
Back at the Rocky Shore after the Battle of the Fractured Coastline, when he bid farewell to Grey.
He had used the ability of “The Fool’s Library” to transfer all his knowledge, perceptions, and understanding of future societies to Grey. Naturally, this also included his experiences with dostic online gas from his previous life.
And Grey, having grown up in the Steam Age, had never played any video ga herself and didn’t even know what one was supposed to look like.
Thus, when creating “Shoreguards’ Ballad”… all Grey could do was imitate, using the experiences stored in “The Fool’s Library” from those dostic online gas to copy what she could.
In that sense, this bla ultimately lay with him.
Rast could already imagine the deep resentnt from players in this world when they saw the overly detailed ga privacy policy.
With that thought, Rast moved his mind slightly and scrolled straight to the bottom of the verbose and tedious privacy policy, choosing to confirm.
No way, surely no one actually reads every single word of the privacy policy, right?
With the click of the confirm button, the previous interface vanished, replaced by a new line of text.
"Please enter your user nickna:"
"Shoreguard"
"This nickna is already taken, please enter a new one"
"Shoreguard152"
"This nickna is already taken, please enter a new one"
"Shoreguard114514"
"This nickna is already taken, please enter a new one"
……
"Dummy, both Shoreguard and Rast are virtual idols in this world, global buzzwords. There’s no way they’d let you take that userna."
Dean Silver’s noisy voice ca from the outside world, clearly watching Rast’s ga progress through the host’s screen.
"Listen to , listen to , use this ID of mine!"
Hearing the nickna Dean Silver suggested, Rast’s tone beca subtly nuanced: “Dean Silver, are you sure?”
“Of course.” The Little Snow Ferret proudly puffed out her chest: “You can always trust the aesthetic sense of a veteran netizen with thirty years of surfing experience!”
“All right.” Rast nodded.
"User nickna [Little Ferret Gummy] confird"
The light and shadow before his eyes rippled like water.
Imdiately after, Rast saw the ga’s lobby interface.
After skipping through a pile of cluttered daily login, sign-in, regular gacha pool, event-limited gacha pool, monthly card, weekly activity, and monthly activity buttons, Rast spotted the option for the “Deep Blue Port Speedrun Challenge”.
[This challenge is a ti-limited event. Players will return to the first year of the Cataclysmic Calendar three hundred years ago, just before the outbreak of the Iron Cross Plague in Deep Blue Port, and experience the sa perilous ordeal as the Shoreguard hero Rast in history.]
[After the challenge ends, a comprehensive score will be calculated based on the player's survival ti, plot deviation, exploration ratio, and other data. The score will be recorded on the global leaderboard, and rewards will be distributed according to ranking when the event ends.]
[Rewards for the ti-limited event rankings are shown in the table below. The top-ranked player at the end of the event will be invited to the Third chanical Research Institute and granted qualification to visit the “Artificial Angel” project.]
[Remaining ti for the limited-ti event: 23 hours]
[Please note: This ti-limited event may contain elents such as blood, violence, and grotesquery. Please confirm the above before choosing whether to enter.]
[Confirm / Exit]
Only 23 hours left for this event?
Assuming no instant death scenarios and avoiding five-minute triple failures, and calculating one complete run as one day, then he would probably only have one last attempt left.
Seeing this, Rast no longer hesitated and directly chose “Confirm”.
As Rast once again pressed the confirm key, the light and shadows before his eyes distorted once more.
When his vision cleared again, those dense, complex UI interfaces of the ga had all completely disappeared.
The air carried the salty dampness of sea breeze, confirming that this place was not far from the coast, likely a small city by the seaside.
What ca into view was a dark dungeon, and he himself was a prisoner within it.
Through the rust-covered iron bars and the torches lit in the dungeon… one could faintly see, standing guard outside, cultists dressed in pitch-black robes.
Looking at those cultists clad in black robes, Rast felt that the mories long buried in the corners of the attic of his mind were beginning to slowly resurface once more.
Their attire was familiar to Rast—this was the cult ford by the fisherman in Deep Blue Port who had accidentally obtained the Evil God’s sculpture.
Rast was familiar with every mber of this small cult group; he could even, through the faint torchlight, identify by figure and posture the cultist standing guard outside.
So, his initial identity in “Shoreguards’ Ballad” was set as a sacrificial offering, soon to be blood-ritualed by this cult to summon the Evil God’s half-body for a Descent of the (Evil) God?
This was indeed a brand-new experience that Rast had never encountered in the three hundred-year loop of Deep Blue Port. After all, in those one hundred thousand loops, his starting identity was always that of a free person able to move about in Deep Blue Port.
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Still, not much difference either way.
Rast gently closed his eyes.
He had never imagined there would be a day he could return to Deep Blue Port again, even if it was within a virtual world simulated by electronic signals.
“Shoreguards’ Ballad” had assigned him a starting identity as a prisoner deprived of freedom. Compared to starting as a free person, the things he could do were undoubtedly much more limited.
For example, the beloved weapons he would acquire at the start of every loop as a routine—his heavy revolver “Iron-Marked Moon” and sniper rifle “Deep Blue Judgnt”—this ti, he would likely have no chance to get them.
Moreover, Rast had also lost the powerful teammate Shiltina. Her participation back then had directly helped Rast break the stalemate in Deep Blue Port… Without Shiltina, Rast might have remained trapped in Deep Blue Port for hundreds of years, if not longer.
In addition, with only 23 hours remaining in the ti-limited event, it ant Rast had just one full attempt left to clear it.
His margin for error had been reduced to the absolute minimum. Any mistake in decision-making or mishandling of details could result in this sole opportunity being wasted… unlike before, where even death could be retried, where he could keep experinting through endless trial and error, gradually exploring and advancing.
In all respects, the situation Rast faced now was far more difficult than it had been back in Deep Blue Port.
However—
The current Rast was already completely different from the one once trapped in Deep Blue Port on the brink of self-destruction.
It wasn’t rely an upgrade in his Extraordinary Tier.
What truly transford was his heart.
“Then, let’s begin…”
Rast opened his eyes once more.
“For the truth of Canaan, for the reunion with Xiao Ai.”
“To speedrun once again this ga called Deep Blue Port, which I have challenged tens of thousands of tis—”
“Speedrun.”
…
In the room of the real world, Dean Silver squatted on the bedside cabinet.
She looked at Rast, lying on the bed in full-dive mode, then looked at the screen on the host that was currently loading, rubbing her little paws excitedly, her mood visibly bubbling with joy.
No helping it, compared to playing this malicious high-difficulty ga herself, watching others suffer through livestreams was definitely more entertaining.
Of course, for others it might be suffering, but if it was that guy Rast, then it might just be pure enjoynt.
Not that it mattered—either way she was going to enjoy it. Watching people suffer had its own fun, and watching speedruns had theirs.
Dean Silver wagged her tail. In the next mont, the refrigerator door in the kitchen opened automatically.
Next, bottles of Happy Water and various junk food floated through the air and landed on the table next to Dean Silver.
How could one watch a stream without sunflower seeds and snacks?
But just then—
Ding-ling—
A notification sound from the computer host briefly drew Dean Silver’s attention away from the loading screen.
[Lol, I’ve been playing “Shoreguards’ Ballad” since launch, and this is the first ti I’ve heard that Lord Rast doesn’t like cats but prefers ferrets.]
[Stop dodging. Just report your rank and score already.]
[I’m Master 300 points in Server 1. Ranked top 500 in the Deep Blue Port ti-limited challenge. What about you?]
[Don’t tell you’re just a pay-to-win poser who ca to brag on the forums?]
This was the latest reply Dean Silver received on the forum for “Shoreguards’ Ballad.”
And the sender was precisely the opponent with whom Dean Silver had previously been furiously clashing on the forum, hamring the keyboard in a heated argunt.
Clearly, after a round of passionate online bickering, the battle had escalated to the phase of “What rank are you?”, “Are you even a champion?”, “Are you a loser in real life?”
If it went any further, it would probably reach real-life confrontation.
Though she didn’t quite understand how the original argunt on the forum—“Does Shoreguard Rast prefer cats or dogs?”—had anything to do with the ranks of the arguing parties.
Still, seeing this reply made Dean Silver instantly go red-hot.
No helping it, lies don’t hurt; it’s the truth that cuts like a knife.
After all, as a ferret, Dean Silver couldn’t even use a ga helt. Strictly speaking, forget being pay-to-win, she didn’t even qualify as tough-as-iron.
She was a cloud player through and through.
Even so, backing down was never an option for Dean Silver.
As a seasoned netizen, she knew very well that in online argunts, the actual right or wrong of the topic didn’t matter. What mattered was emotional output—what mattered was “winning.”
Whether Rast preferred cats, dogs, or ferrets didn’t actually matter. But if she lost a fla war online, that would genuinely feel worse than swallowing a fly.
Dean Silver’s little paws danced across the keyboard like a blur, quickly editing and sending a reply: [Not high, not high. Just ranked first in the Deep Blue Port ti-limited event, that’s all.]
The reply from the other side ca swiftly: [Really? I’m a strear. I just checked the ID of the current top rank in the Deep Blue Port event, and it doesn’t seem to be you?]
[No way, no way, no way. Don’t tell soone’s lost their mind in the argunt and started making stuff up?]
[I can’t with this, man. If you’re really suffering from hysteria, I suggest finding a ntal hospital early.]
Dean Silver’s heat level visibly increased a few more notches.
Bang!
She finished typing a new reply, then slamd her paw down hard on the Enter key.
[I’m not first yet—but I will be soon. Don’t believe ? Co watch my stream and see for yourself!]
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