[Third Kaixinwang RPG Log]
Dark clouds pressed down on the city. No stars shone.
On the beach outside the castle stood dense ranks of fully armed, armored men. Endless black warhorses snorted, yet not a single clash of armor could be heard. Only the torches crackled and spat, the smell of pine resin mixed with sea brine pushing again and again into one’s nose.
A dozen or so sorcerers in gray hoods stood with arms crossed, surrounding a dozen slaves collapsed on the ground and covered in blood. Blue lightning flickered inside their sleeves, ready to be called forth. Most of the slaves had already been torn limb from limb, heads separated from bodies. Only the leader still struggled to sit upright. His ritual robe had long since been slashed open by the sharp rocks of the sea cliff, and on his shoulder the character “Ren,” embroidered in silver thread, could still be faintly made out in the firelight.
From the rear of the formation came the heavy sound of hooves. The crowd parted by itself, and the sorcerers bowed aside to left and right. The King rode Red Mane, his gaze dark as he stared fixedly at the last slave still alive on the ground.
“Must you leave?” After a long silence, the King finally asked. “Again and again you try to flee. Why? Have you been mistreated here?” He noticed the character “Ren” on the slave’s shoulder, gave a sudden “Oh” of understanding, and continued, “Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, Gui. So you’re from the Ren camp, are you?”
The slave on the ground did not move. The sorcerer nearest him twitched a finger slightly, and a gust of wind blew away the slave’s headscarf, revealing short hair cut to the ears and a V-shaped fringe over the forehead. The slaves all believed that V stood for freedom.
“So it’s true,” the King sighed. “The Ren camp really means to rebel? You flee and are killed, and after being killed you still try to flee. Must one of the Ten Heavenly-Stem Servants truly go missing?”
“We have to leave!” The slave on the ground suddenly raised her head and shouted with determination. It was a girl’s hoarse voice.
“Leaving means death!”
“Then we die together!” the girl cried recklessly. “We all saw it. The tree in the mirror. That tree has withered. We have to leave, back to the real world!”
“What? The tree has withered?” The King abruptly tightened the reins, and Red Mane’s front hooves reared high. “Does that mean the Tree Consort has met with disaster? Where is she now?”
Behind the King, the great shaman raised a piece of obsidian and looked into it for a moment. “The Tree Consort suddenly disconnected several hours ago and has not logged in again.”
“Back to the castle!” The King wheeled his horse around and pointed his whip toward the fortress. “We must return to the swastika-camp ritual formation.” He looked back at the girl. “Give her a horse. Let her go!”
You may have countless processes and play countless roles at once, the number depending on your ability. If you wish to go offline by normal procedure, at least one role must successfully log out.
Summer had just arrived, and among the girls of this city a short hairstyle called “Freeman” had begun to spread, because the advertisement said that Freeman was what happiness looked like.
A girl in spotted overalls, her hair cut in the Freeman style, rushed into the largest network-base-station payment center in Donghu District, clutching a Doraemon China Merchants Bank credit card. “Please recharge account CD6301009191323 for one year. Thank you.” One minute later, the girl stood at the entrance of the base station holding the payment receipt and let out a long breath.
The King almost stumbled into the swastika ritual formation. The green crystal ball at the center of the formation was just about to go out, with only the faintest bit of pale green gel left inside.
“Remaining time: 00:09”
Going offline required at least thirty seconds. There was no time. The King felt a wave of dizziness, his body tipping sideways, and reached out to support himself on the altar holding the crystal ball.
In a flash, a streak of fluorescent light swept through the ritual formation with a hua, and the entire world seemed to tremble. The King knew this was what happened during a refresh. “But it’s not refresh time yet, is it?” he said, scratching his head in confusion. When he looked up again at the crystal ball, it was filled to the brim with green liquid, and a line of numbers circled inside:
“Remaining time: 525599:59”
This diary entry mentioned: Jiashu [x]