"According to your arrangents, we are urgently adjusting your son’s ntal state, but it seems there has been no relief yet," the researcher cautiously responded to the middle-aged man’s question.
"No other top-ranked player has shown such symptoms." The middle-aged man suddenly sighed, "How co my child turns into a madman after one ga session..."
"According to our research, players who have experienced the world replica generally exhibit a decline in their ntal state. In more severe cases, they are even accompanied by various ntal illnesses," the researcher said.
"A similar case occurred with the player ranked sixty-ninth, Larko, who, after undergoing the Third World replica and being brutally tortured, returned with his mind bewildered, restless, and often depressed. He imdiately sought help from the United Group’s psychological departnt and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, along with Stockholm syndro... and he has never entered the ga again."
Alerbella, once ranked one hundred and twenty-third, suffered from Cotard’s syndro after dying from sulfuric acid in the Second World replica. She believed that her body and internal organs had changed, that they no longer existed. She claid her lungs and stomach were completely rotted, believing she had already died of decay from sulfuric acid, even though her intact body data was shown to her. She thought she had already died in Daylight Floating City from the acid.
anwhile, Iris, who failed in the previous world, also seed to have a mild depression tendency. She no longer wished to appear in public or communicate with others, not even wanting to leave her own space. We deduced that she might have also lost the qualifications to reenter the ga...
Such ntal pressure is very common among top-ranked players.
We investigated the players who ca for help and found two common traits in them. The first is an emotional paranoia, falling easily into misconceptions; the second is a grueso death upon return, having not yet recovered from the sensation of death...
The stronger the player’s ability, the more susceptible their spirit is to weakening. Without tily intervention and treatnt, this condition will continue indefinitely.
Previously, the departnt didn’t pay much attention to this aspect, nor did it take any relevant psychological treatnt asures. Only when the number of players seeking help increased did we realize that death is not as simple for a human being as closing and opening one’s eyes.
All organizations have decided to open a new psychology bureau, specifically to treat those players who have lost the will to fight and whose spirits are on the verge of collapse, to help them continue fighting..."
"Enough, enough, I’m not interested in hearing this. It’s inauspicious, all this rot and talk of death." The middle-aged man interrupted him, waving his hand, his expression seeming very pained: "I just want my son to co through this normally, stop him from going crazy again, please do your best to treat my son."
"We will do our utmost," the researcher imdiately nodded.
Just then, footsteps were heard at the door, and a young woman walked in.
The researcher, good at reading the room, imdiately stepped aside, while the woman slowly approached the middle-aged man.
"Mizushima Haru has still not returned," the woman said. "There’s been a huge uproar on the martial arts side. Their heir, Mizushima Kawa Sora, seems to be close to encountering so problems as well."
"As for the minor dispute on the martial arts side, it doesn’t matter," the middle-aged man said. "With one less Mizushima Haru. Even if she hasn’t returned after finishing the Fifth World, she might have assud another identity, no need to worry -- in front of larger interests, these are insignificant, this Prosperous Era needs our unity, and unity needs not only reliable allies but also suitable chess pieces."
The woman remained silent.
Having beco a non-participant player earlier, she had accompanied the middle-aged man in various secret etings between organizations, personally witnessing their intense and ongoing debates around the conference table. As the systems for Casual Players were gradually improved, this group could easily return to their old ways, using their connections to set up a network for gathering points, and reap greater benefits...
In the words of the middle-aged man, "Adventurer Players are but chess pieces earning points for them, the charge of trumpets."
And those like them, who had stepped back into the shadows, were the key hands controlling everything.
After all... Adventurer Players walked on the blade’s edge, constantly risking losing everything in one instance. But these well-settled Casual Players could continuously accumulate capital without fearing a fatal misstep.
They were very safe.
For them, these Adventurer Players struggling for points were rely bricklayers toiling on the edge of life and death with constant overti.
Besides that handful of top-tier Adventurer Players, those wandering at the lower to middle levels, who could be cleared of their abilities at any mont and only thought of entering the ga once or twice, were their sources of wealth.
In their view, "the position of the World" had yet to be clearly understood by the vast majority.
While everyone else was still debating who was the strongest Adventurer Player, who could lead the World, they, the Casual Players holding tens of thousands of points, had long been much stronger than those on the line of life and death.
These who’s the strongest middle-school level topics ant nothing to those who had already matured and seen through these things.
When the progress bar appeared and the future of humanity seed bright, this group focused even more on clutching their moneybags.
Both types of players were at the apex of the pyramid and reaped the greatest profits. Others were rely stepping stones and materials for paving the way.
In any world, it would only be that few who would profit the most.
"Has Atlanda already written out the strategy?"
"Yes, he has written it, His Highness Edward has already seen it, and Aiden seems quite interested in it too, we’ve also given him a copy."
"Give him, the more people there are, the more hope there is," the man said in an indifferent tone as he watched his son screaming tragically in front of him: "As long as they don’t suddenly turn into madn and slow down the world’s progress, everything will be fine..."
...
On the screen, the United Group’s discussion was still ongoing, with the current topic still focused on: "Why do the organizers want to hold such a ga?"
"I won’t be Wang Xingkong," Su Ming’an said, "Nor will you, no one will. At least from the current situation, our future looks very promising."
"...Is that so?" Noel chuckled, seemingly wanting to say sothing more, but suddenly shifted his gaze.
Su Ming’an also shifted his gaze at the sa mont, his eyes firmly fixed on the screen.
What caught their attention was a shift in the live broadcast’s cara angle.
Dressed in a white suit, like a focal point bathed in light, was now standing up.
In front of him, the green button representing "unlimited speaking rights" shone brightly.
"I think it’s a ’ga,’" the young man in the white suit said with a smile: "A dangerous yet alluring dinsional ga that gambles on the destiny of a civilization."
The barrage went crazy:
[He’s speaking! He can actually speak!]
[I thought he was going to sit quietly until the end, I didn’t expect he would finally start!]
[Here it cos, it has finally arrived...]
["Alluring", huh? So the Number One Player is... in favor of the world ga being an opportunity for humanity?]
[Top players are all a bunch of madn; they like such gas, it’s only natural for madn to resonate with equally mad organizers!]
"Is this your doing?" Noel asked.
"It’s unexpected," Su Ming’an raised his eyebrows: "His clear answer is almost similar to my thoughts."
In the screen, soone stood up, seemingly intending to refute his point of view.
The cara shifted slightly, focusing on a woman holding a black blade to the side, her long black hair untied and flowing behind her like a waterfall. Her Fusang kimono embroidered with pink cherry blossoms accentuated her gentle body curves, and her expression was as cold as frost.
"You think this is a ga?" Mizushima Kawa Sora said: "But what kind of ga stakes human lives and the fate of a civilization?"
Facing Mizushima Kawa Sora’s knife-sharp tone of skepticism, Ming smiled lightly, appearing calm and composed.
"I rember expressing my viewpoint clearly during the opening ceremony," he said, "Since resistance is futile, it is best to do our utmost within the circle drawn by the Organizers. Viewing a destiny chanism that leads us to despair as a ga, bit by bit exchanging Points through inspiring missions for a ladder to ascend, while Players always have endless possibilities—isn’t that the best form of encouragent?"
"You know sothing, don’t you," Mizushima Kawa Sora clenched the Black Blade, veins bulging, "about the Observer, about the Hunter, about the Sniper... about those people who stand apart from the Players."
Ming’an smiled, watching her, like a Gran gentleman patiently waiting for a lady to speak.
Everyone watched the confrontation between the two, nurous gazes congregating there, with no one pressing the button to interject into their conversation.
They were also expecting, that these always silent two, would spark what kind of thoughts.
"Those who beca special identities, who gave up their Player status, have never returned after an instance ended, they were ’assimilated’ by the ga." Mizushima Kawa Sora looked at him, her usually firm gaze now slightly trembling, "...Can they co back? After the World ga ends, can they still..."
"Bang, bang."
Wilson knocked on the wooden gavel:
"Miss Mizushima Kawa, your remarks are unrelated to the current topic. If you would like to discuss the ’impact of special identities on the World ga,’ please do so during our later Agenda Item fourteen."
"I just wanted to ask a question," Mizushima Kawa Sora said.
A bundle of bright red roses lay quietly beside her.
"...After you killed Mizushima Haru," Mizushima Kawa Sora looked at Ming, "she never returned to the Main God Space. Do you know where she went?"
...
Noel withdrew his gaze.
"A pointless question," he said, "Sothing easy to figure out if you ponder a little. Ah, this woman is wasting our ti at such a gathering, truly tedious..."
"Mizushima Haru has beco an Observer, hasn’t she," Su Ming’an said, "I have seen summaries on the forums where if soone dies in a World Replica and doesn’t return promptly, they likely et the criteria to beco a special identity. It seems Mizushima Haru did just that—she truly wanted to help her sister in this way."
He rembered, in the Fifth World, what Mizushima Haru was like then.
Before him, she knelt with her head bowed, begging in front of the whole world, apologizing, stomping her face into the mud, as everyone mocked her.
Under Hui Shuhang’s oppression, she died as light as a feather.
Before that, she had forsaken all her dignity, transford from a willful and proud young lady to a Noble Family’s Chess Piece who sold her body.
...Perhaps afterward, she felt the true powerlessness and decided to find her own way in another manner, not as a Player.
"Hmm," Noel nodded, "Probably so, but it’s irrelevant to us. And now—my question has been asked."
He extended his hand, his movent straightforward and direct.
"Now, Su Ming’an, I sincerely invite you, to collaborate with ," he said:
"You are the Number One Player, humanity’s hope, currently the strongest and most qualified to stand till the end.
You have strayed from the original intention of playing the ga... and seemingly lost a better chance to ’evolve yourself’.
This World ga brings not crisis, but a survival of the fittest, an evolution.
It evolves those suitable, letting them embrace Higher Dinsions. It eliminates those unsuitable, letting them self-destruct.
I hope you can make it to the end; for which, I can provide you all the support, including Props, public opinion, and information before the start of the World Replica.
The only obligation you need to fulfill is—"
A pure pleasure blood in his eyes. It burst like fireworks over an icy lake in a fleeting mont.
"It is to embrace Higher Dinsions," he said.
Su Ming’an’s gaze slightly shifted.
Noel continued, "This Human Self-Rescue Conference is aningless—you think so too, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have sent a Clone to attend, choosing instead to co with to the amusent park.
Humanity is nearly extinguished; our future is bleak.
Even if we escape this ga, what awaits us is still an endless Reincarnation."
"Take my hand, join the New World," Noel extended his hand, fingers spread, waiting for him to grasp it: "We both possess the ’special identity given by the Organizers,’ we are both the most suitable for evolution.
Stop bothering with the United Group’s crude Human Self-Rescue organization. Even now, at this critical mont, they are still blind to reality, still clawing at each other over trivial powers.
Expand your perspective, broaden your horizons.
Here, I have an opportunity suitable for your evolution.
We—" Noel smiled, his eyes seed to flow with a bright clarity:
"—own an imnsely vast ’New World’."
Su Ming’an turned his head.
He did not directly answer Noel’s question, but then his gaze shifted towards the window.
"—Guess what I saw?" he softly said.
Noel was montarily startled and looked out the window.
Through a thin layer of glass, his gaze reached a dim sky.
A sliver of light, like a gently floating ribbon of light, spread down.
That was the last beam of the sunset, which, along with the ferris wheel’s movent, gradually shifted.
Sitting opposite, the Number One Player was bathed in a dense glow like blood, resembling a still-colored photograph.
In the ignited brilliance, his eyes seed to sparkle.
The slanted strip of light slowly faded.
The ferris wheel reached its highest point.
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