Chapter Fourteen: Advancement, Once Again Advancement

“Where’s the access card? Why wasn’t it left behind?”
Tomorrow’s Rain, looking dejected, was utterly perplexed. “Without the access card, how are we supposed to complete our mission? This doesn’t make any sense!”

Scaled Arm sighed, a hint of resignation in his tone. “Under those circumstances, it would be even more illogical for the access card to have survived. As for the final assessment, it seems hopeless now. All that’s left is to grit our teeth and persevere, hoping we can improve our evaluation.”

“So that’s all we can do?”

Tomorrow’s Rain was unwilling to accept it. The goal was within reach, yet an invisible chasm had arisen to bar his way. He couldn’t stomach such a situation. Others may not understand the significance of earning a high evaluation at the difficult level, but he knew it all too well. Even if he didn’t get the sapphire necklace, as long as he survived the eighty-minute mark, he would be handsomely rewarded.

Sadly, the final assessment ended in disappointment; seventy minutes would likely remain an unattainable peak.

“No, we still might have a chance to finish the assessment.”

At that moment, the taciturn Not an Expert spoke up unexpectedly.

Scaled Arm, knowing he never spoke without reason, asked, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve all forgotten—there’s more than one access card.” Not an Expert folded his arms and looked at Ember with unwavering confidence. “Brother, the card that used to belong to the Fifth Security Officer should still be in your possession, right?”

Only two access cards appeared in the mission flow: one for the Third Security Team and the other held by the Fifth Security Officer. Since Ember had managed to reach the control center, it meant he must have acquired the Fifth Officer’s card. Scaled Arm and Tomorrow’s Rain had considered this, but assumed such an important item would have been promptly reclaimed by the center’s director.

Yet, given the director’s unusual attitude toward Ember, it seemed plausible he was allowed to keep the card.

Since the matter concerned his own mission, Ember didn’t bother to deny it.

Scaled Arm smiled broadly. “It’s a blessing in disguise!”

Tomorrow’s Rain’s expression was conflicted; he licked his lips but said nothing. The incident at the Endless Staircase had driven a wedge between the two players.

He didn’t wish to speak, but Ember did.

“Do you really know the inside information?”

Without preamble, Ember confronted him openly, watching as Tomorrow’s Rain’s face darkened. Ember brought it up now partly because he held the initiative, partly due to Scaled Arm’s reputation, and partly out of curiosity regarding the sapphire necklace—what treasure was so valuable that Tomorrow’s Rain would resort to force? If he could glean something, it would help prepare him mentally.

Three pairs of eyes stared directly at him; Tomorrow’s Rain felt trapped. His greatest mistake was failing to secure the necklace—otherwise, what would it matter if the secret was revealed publicly? After all, Thunder Duke, their leader, acquired the inside information from a programmer dismissed by Singularity Corp. Even so, Tomorrow’s Rain was unwilling to let Ember reap all the benefits. He preferred to feign ignorance in front of the two seasoned players rather than answer Ember’s question.

“Heh, allow me to answer this one.”

Neither Ember nor Tomorrow’s Rain expected Scaled Arm to interject at this point. “I’ve heard that in difficult-level games, there are special items that grant certain skills or equipment. One piece of news is tied to the Endless Staircase, and I suspect you’ve already obtained it, Ember.”

Before Ember could reply, Tomorrow’s Rain’s eyes widened. That information had come from their leader, Thunder Duke, who in turn got it from a fired programmer at Singularity Corp. But how did Scaled Arm know?

“Don’t be surprised. That so-called inside information isn’t exclusive to Thunder’s group, nor is it as important as you think. Remember, Singularity’s legal team is no pushover.” Scaled Arm waved dismissively. “Besides, if Thunder Duke shares such details with non-core members like yourself, it means he doesn’t care about keeping it secret. If you doubt it, ask him yourself.”

Tomorrow’s Rain looked embarrassed and was at a loss for words. Scaled Arm turned to Ember. “The item you possess seems tied to a piece of equipment, but I don’t know the precise mission flow. Whether you can obtain it depends entirely on your own abilities. But rest assured, neither I nor Not an Expert will covet your belongings. It’s just a game, meant for fun—I’m actually eager to see how you’ll explore! Don’t you agree, Tomorrow’s Rain?”

“Yes, yes…”

Scaled Arm had seen the tension between the two and deliberately mediated, subtly disparaging Tomorrow’s Rain.

Tomorrow’s Rain’s gaze was evasive, and Ember saw no reason to waste words. Scaled Arm’s reputation was sterling; he would not risk tarnishing it. Not an Expert, a veteran player famed in “Titan,” was also at a stage where he cared about his reputation. As Scaled Arm had said—games are meant for enjoyment, and most players are friendly, whether for fame or fortune.

Ember produced the access card and unlocked the door; at the same time, everyone received a task completion prompt.

[Prompt: You have completed the final assessment mission—Release the Supervisor. Due to your outstanding performance, you have been richly rewarded with contribution points.]

At that moment, Ember watched his contribution bar skyrocket, not only filling the current progress but gaining an extra twenty percent.

He leveled up!

Again!

The contribution pool made leveling swift and effortless. While the other three players were still rejoicing at their surging experience, they had no idea that Ember had quietly leveled up once more. He wasn’t in a rush to allocate points; instead, he heeded the advice of the control center director and kept them in reserve. The two extra core attributes were as valuable as a novice talent.

Whew…

Ember quietly exhaled and focused on the space before him.

In the darkness, an elderly man in a suit sat upright, holding a newspaper. He seemed transported from the early twentieth century, exuding an aura of bygone times. A pocket watch adorned his chest; a monocle rested on his face; his hair was meticulously combed, and his eyes brimmed with intelligence. A beam of light fell from the darkness upon him, the surroundings pitch black, but faintly, boxes could be seen beside his seat.

What was inside the boxes? Could they be rewards for “Releasing the Supervisor”?

Ember remembered—the final assessment’s reward was “Unknown”; surely it couldn’t be just contribution points.

Reviewing the mission flow, Ember and the other four players had acted separately. It appeared disconnected, yet each step was crucial to completing the final assessment.

Had Ember failed to avoid the time trap, he wouldn’t have obtained the Fifth Security Officer’s access card, and the assessment would have ended in failure. If the other four players had slipped up, the Third Security Team might have suffered heavier losses; whether they could withstand the pressure from the Chaos Apostle and reach this point was uncertain. Even if they did, how many survivors would actually be Foundation members?

Anyone could see that the deputy officer who eliminated the Shadow Walker was spent; if any remaining infiltrators had to face just a single barrel, what then?

In short, this grand battle royale was fraught with danger, both overt and hidden. Only one elimination so far was a stroke of luck. Thus, the four players were certain that a mountain of contribution points was merely the appetizer.

“By now, you should be arriving.”

The elderly man in the suit suddenly spoke, folding his newspaper and rising gracefully. “But what surprises me is that only you few have made it. Has the situation become so dire?”

He murmured as he walked toward the door, the shaft of light moving with him, illuminating the room filled with boxes—like a treasure vault.

“It seems the Foundation’s internal problems are grave. I was barely confined before the Chaos Apostle seized the opportunity.” The elderly man shook his head, his face unreadable. “Well, from here on, the mission doesn’t require you newcomers. But let me ask—what reward do you desire?”

As he spoke, he raised his left hand; the beam shifted and lit the boxes to the left.

“Do you wish for the standard reward, equal to your efforts…”

His right hand rose, the light illuminating the right side of his face, where a smile lingered, cold and distant.

“Or will you challenge yourself one last time, seeking something greater?”

[Prompt: The supervisor of Facility Nineteen offers you two reward options: standard and challenge.]
[Prompt: Choosing standard ends the assessment immediately, granting an excellent evaluation (seventy minutes).]
[Prompt: Choosing challenge enters you into ‘Battle Royale Mode—Challenge Stage,’ with greater difficulty and better rewards. Completing it may yield additional prizes.]
[Prompt: The higher your final evaluation, the better your rewards, and the greater the impact on future assessments.]

Hmm?

If you simply take the reward and leave, you must exit the game?

Ember raised his brow. In that case, the liberated supervisor would become the linchpin, completely reversing the facility’s dire situation. Players, who were once useful, would now be redundant. So to earn a better evaluation, one must accept the challenge—lingering here to pad the time is no longer an option.

As for Ember’s choice?

Naturally, he would continue the challenge!

He had no reason to stop.

After all, games are for fun; the thrill lies in the challenge!

Yet another reason was that he saw a new prompt.

[Prompt: Do you wish to submit the task item “Sapphire Necklace” and complete the side quest “Escort the Key”? If you choose to delay submission, you may receive clues to special items after completing the challenge.]