The authorities reacted swiftly, immediately sealing off the area around City A and continually sending in troops, drones, and other resources in an attempt to investigate the interior of the white fog through manpower and technology. Yet the moment machines, humans, or search-and-rescue dogs entered the heart of the fog, all contact with the outside world was severed, as though they had stepped into another dimension.
That remained the case until the game itself provided a means of communication—a game forum called “Conquering the Apocalypse Game.”
People both inside and outside the game could post there. It was the only way they could communicate with one another.
The game forum had only two major sections. The first was the Player Forum, where only players physically inside a “game-occupied zone” could post. It was divided into Areas A, B, and C; everyone else could only read and could not participate in discussions. The second was the Spectator Forum, where people outside the “game-occupied zones” could also post, though every ID carried a tag distinguishing “Player” from “Ordinary Person.”
He Wuning frowned as he scrolled through the latest posts about “Awakening Missions” on the Player Forum, his brows drawing together even more tightly.
—“Fuck this Awakening Mission! What the hell is wrong with you, making a grown man become a magical girl?!”
—“Aaaaah, I finally finished my Awakening Mission! I awakened a lightning ability! Any permanent teams willing to take me in? Preferably one focused on staying alive QAQ”
—“Anyone here still hasn’t done their Awakening Mission? Everyone should seriously think about it before doing theirs. When I’m full, I have superhuman strength, but if I get even a tiny bit hungry, I can barely lift my hands! I’d have been better off never awakening!”
He Wuning did not look pleased.
This was the sparsely populated edge of the beginner zone. The native slimes were passive monsters that would not attack unless provoked, so as long as no one bothered them, they could more or less be treated as mascots. He Wuning had deliberately chosen this place because no one would disturb him here.
The young man standing beneath the tree was tall and slender, almost a little thin at first glance. His half-long black hair partly covered his eyes, but it could not completely conceal their beautiful shape.
He was very good-looking—the kind of person who could be called “pretty”—but his faintly furrowed brows and the barely perceptible hint of menace around him kept him from seeming delicate. Instead, there was a restrained sense of danger about him, like some soft yet lethal species of large cat.
He sat down cross-legged and laid out the materials one by one—steel components, rubber products, the leaves of some unknown plant… a whole heap of miscellaneous odds and ends.
He Wuning tapped his fingers against the ground, an old habit whenever he was thinking. At last, as though finally making up his mind, he exhaled softly. “Submit mission.”