——When the virtual crown is made of bones, the winner is already the puppet of the dead soul.
"Congratulations on passing the ultimate challenge, your game life is over."
When the system prompt popped up on the smoke-filled final battlefield, the sharp-edged ship-cutting knife still retained the residual warmth of data annihilation.
Three seconds later, he opened his eyes in the emergency room and heard the real death sentence:
"The Ninth District has been annihilated by orbital bombing. What we rescued is the remnants of your consciousness wrapped around the nerve endings of the game server."
What maintains this reverberation is a parasitic program called "Abyss Tower".
It takes root in the brain like poison ivy, transmitting both false life signals and the NPC's cold-knife whispers:
"Confirmation of passing the teaching level. Blade, it's time to recover the 'trophies' you chopped off."
The smile of the novice instructor Lao Yu on the screen opened the gap in the abyss, and thirteen blue coordinates lit up on the scorched earth map of the ninth area, pointing to the polluted restricted area where information aberrations were entrenched.
The Joint Management Committee embedded the "Tinder" bomb into his chest -
"This is the safety catch that prevents poison ivy from blooming in your brain."
And the nerve bundles of the Abyss Tower are burning his motor cortex, forging his flesh into a precise recovery tool.
When he was dragged by the system and smashed open the huge rusty door under the archives, a deep-buried memory exploded in the dark red data eyes opened in the putrid black mist:
Deep in the burned-out shelter, the black metal handle engraved with runes and his virtual weapon that shattered the end...
The texture is exactly the same.
Is the system recovering out-of-control weapons?
Or the bodies of the dead are being compiled
