The three of them selectively ignored that fatal question.
Zeke, Tax Bro, and Schrödinger Bro sat in a circle in a corner of the workshop, staring at their respective Imperial Coin balances. Reason triumphed over impulse.
"A pistol is 20 coins, a hunting knife is 5 coins, but what we need most right now is this."
Zeke pointed to the top section of the store list. "Synthetic Nutrient Paste 0.3 coins, Purified Water 0.3 coins, Basic dical Kit 1.5 coins. Schrödinger, you need to treat that wound."
It was only then that Schrödinger's Loyalist rembered his injured leg. He imdiately grabbed his thigh and shouted, "Holy crap, my leg hurts so much!"
He grimaced in pain; the simple cloth bandage wrapped around his thigh had already turned crimson from seeping blood.
The three of them quickly completed their purchases.
With a faint flash of white light—probably the only thing in this trash-tier System that actually looked like a video ga special effect—three gray, unremarkable tubes, three sealed pouches of water, and a crude canvas bag appeared in their hands.
The taste of the nutrient paste was indescribable, like a slop made of mixed starch, protein, and so kind of industrial flavoring. The texture was coarse, but after swallowing it, the feeling of fullness in the stomach was incredibly real.
[Mild Hunger Status Relieved]
The purified water had a faint tallic tang, but it was enough to soothe their parched throats.
[Mild Thirst Status Relieved]
Opening the dical kit revealed a few rolls of sterilized bandages, a small tin of what appeared to be antibacterial ointnt, and a few painkillers. There were no written instructions whatsoever.
Schrödinger Bro treated his wound using common sense. The stinging sensation from the applied ointnt made him hiss, but it quickly turned into a cooling relief. The bleeding status finally changed to: [Wound under treatnt, recovering slowly.]
"This pain feedback... is unreal."
Schrödinger Bro swallowed a painkiller. "I actually believe this ga uses so kind of direct neural link technology now."
"No kidding, otherwise how would we feel hunger and thirst?"
Tax Bro licked the last bit of residue off the edge of his nutrient paste tube, still wanting more. "The portion is just a bit small. It's like feeding a bird."
"Be content. It's only 0.3 coins."
Zeke glanced at his stamina gauge. Sure enough, it was slowly rising from 51%. The speed wasn't fast, but at least it wasn't continually dropping anymore.
Their activity attracted the attention of the surrounding players.
Seeing Zeke and the others eating, drinking, and treating their wounds, the players who hadn't yet scraped together 1 coin turned green with envy.
"Holy crap, they can afford food!"
"The 10 coin reward from the beginner quest! Hurry, I only need 0.2 more coins to reach 1!"
"Push harder, brothers! Once we hand in the quest, we'll have money to buy food!"
"For the nutrient paste! Charge!"
The effect of quenching thirst with a mirage was imdiate.
The player base, which had been sowhat sluggish due to exhaustion, looked as if they had just been injected with stimulants.
Throughout the mine, the sound of hauling footsteps, the clinking of pickaxes, and the screeching of dismantled tal intensified once more, converging into a noisy yet vibrant symphony.
Another hour or two passed. As the sky gradually took on a deeper, murky yellow hue, the vast majority of players completed the [A Laborer's First Step] quest.
Flashes of white light from the store exchanges lit up inside and outside the workshop, followed by various exclamations:
"This nutrient paste tastes absolutely fucking vile! It's worse than the compressed rations I ate in the army!"
"Water! Give water! Eating this stuff makes my mouth feel like it's coated in cent!"
"Just be glad there's food! My stamina dropped to 30% just now, my legs were shaking!"
"Who bought a dical kit? Let borrow it! I cut my finger on so sheet tal!"
"Piss off! That cost 1.5 coins! Buy your own!"
Zeke paid the lethal 0.3 coin Survival Tax. The System deducted the funds directly from his account without even providing a receipt. Seeing his balance hit 32.8 Imperial Coins finally gave him a small sense of security.
At least he wouldn't be penalized by the System today.
Slowly the sky went completely dark.
Nightti on the planet Aurelian IV fell quickly. As the sun sank behind the silhouette of the distant Hive City, the sky shifted from ash-yellow to deep purple, finally settling into an ink-blue diluted by industrial light pollution.
There was no moon, only a few dim stars barely visible through the gaps in the clouds.
The few fluorescent tubes in the workshop provided limited brightness, only illuminating the central area.
Most of the players who had completed the quest didn't choose to stay in the crowded interior. Instead, they scattered in twos and threes across the platform outside and throughout the mine, sitting or lying down on the cold tal floors to find a place to rest.
Currently, there were over four thousand players scattered across the mine area, while nearly a thousand opted to stay inside the workshop.
The group Zeke was part of—the mbers of the real-world Terra Underground Cyber Tavern (Non-Heretical) chat—had about twenty people logged into the ga. Naturally, they gathered together in a relatively flat area on the edge of the pit.
Everyone was slumped on the freezing ground, leaning against abandoned machine wreckage or piles of ore. They were too exhausted to move, but their minds were hyperactive.
"I am so damn tired..." the player IDed as [Did the White Scars Speed Today?] said weakly. He had worked the hardest at hauling today, earning nearly 2.5 coins excluding the quest reward. "But this realism... I still find it unbelievable."
"What kind of technology do you guys think this actually is?"
[Fugitive Cogboy of the chanicus], who was a programr in real life, sounded professionally perplexed.
"It simulates hunger and pain so realistically. This has to be beyond the scope of entertainnt, right?"
[I Want the Halo of Tranquility But I'm Broke] rubbed his aching arms. "I feel like I genuinely worked an eight-hour shift at a construction site."
"Could it be that our country discovered so alien technology on the dark side of the moon?" [Soul of Cadia] lowered his voice, carrying a thrill of conspiracy theory excitent. "And they're using us as test subjects?"
"Give a break with the alien tech." [T'au-Kun, You're Right, But the Bolter is Righter] scoffed. "If they actually had that technology, they'd use it for the military first. You think it'd be our turn to play it as a ga?"
"Maybe it is a training system developed by the military, and they're testing a civilian version?" [I'm Not the Lord Regent, I'm Just a Passing Guilliman] speculated. "Look at it. This ga encourages coordination, survival, resource managent, and even has combat elents..."
"But what about the chas? Where are the promised chas?" [The Emperor's Sword But It's Very Blunt] couldn't let it go. "I logged in to pilot a ch, not to be a miner!"
"Maybe chas are late-ga content?" Zeke joined the discussion. "Those gene enhancents in the store are clearly geared toward combat."
"100 coins each is insanely expensive, but they definitely have their uses."
"Speaking of which..." [Schrödinger's Loyalist] suddenly sat up straight, his expression turning odd. "Did you guys notice that after completing the beginner quest, a new option appeared at the bottom of the panel?"
Hearing this, everyone focused their minds to bring up the interface.
Sure enough, beneath the line reading [Today's Survival Tax: Paid (0.3/0.3)], a new option had appeared:
[Safe Log Out (Current Status: Operable)]
Next to it was a line of small text:
[Notice: Upon logging out, your vessel will enter an unconscious maintenance state. The System is not responsible for the supervision and protection of your vessel while you are offline. Please bear the responsibility for any losses caused by vessel damage, disappearance, looting, or other force majeure events.]
[It is recomnded to log out in an absolutely safe environnt or entrust your vessel to a reliable unit.]
"Does this an... our bodies just get tossed here?" Tax Bro's eyes widened. "If we log off, other people can just strip us naked?"
"Looks like it." [Fugitive Cogboy of the chanicus] nodded. "Very hardcore setting. You either find soone to guard your body, hide well, or just don't log out."
"And what if we actually die?" [Soul of Cadia] asked.
"That's why we have to save money, or try our best not to die." Zeke summarized, "Every aspect of this ga forces you to keep playing. You either grind your life away or pay to win—although they haven't opened microtransactions yet."
"This dev is definitely the reincarnation of Ebenezer Scrooge. A Warhamr 40k version of Scrooge." [I Want the Halo of Tranquility But I'm Broke] sighed. "I owed the System 0.3 coins... oh wait, they already deducted it. But tomorrow I have to pay another 0.3. Day after day, endlessly... Isn't this exactly the life of the underclass in a Hive City?"
"Stop talking..." [T'au-Kun, You're Right, But the Bolter is Righter] covered his face. "I'm feeling more and more like the background setting of this ga is completely wrong..."
"Emperor Above, please do not say that word!" Zeke interrupted almost reflexively. "This is just a ga! Borrowed elents! Alternate universe! 'What If' tiline!"
His voice was a bit loud, causing players from other groups nearby to look over.
Zeke coughed dryly and lowered his voice. "Anyway... until we have concrete evidence, don't make wild guesses."
"But what if it really is that universe?" Schrödinger Bro asked quietly. "What are we right now? Chaos Cultists? Heretics? Or so new type of Warp contamination?"
"Shut up!" Tax Bro joined the suppression effort. "I finks... bah, I think we're just regular players! We're playing a ga, don't scare yourselves!"
The topic slid away under a bizarre, unspoken mutual agreent.
Everyone started discussing how to earn more money tomorrow, whether to form static parties, whether to continue mining or try hunting, and which items in the store offered the best value...
–
In the distant night sky, a pinpoint of light—distinct from the illumination of the Hive City—glided silently above the clouds.
It was a reconnaissance aircraft, its hull painted matte black. Sprayed on its side was the emblem of the Aru Pharmaceutical Group:
A genetic helix entwined by a serpent. And beneath the emblem were two lines of nearly microscopic text:
"Aru Pharmaceutical Group."
"A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of the Ximans Trade Consortium."
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