Chapter 22: The Unexpected Finale of a Would-Be Battle

Chapter 22: The Unexpected Finale of a Would-Be Battle

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Panic and disbelief intertwined in Sumo’s voice as he frantically denied the accusations. “It’s not like that! He’s deceiving you!” His eyes darted around, filled with fear. “That ghostly assassin... he’s like a shadow, leaving no trace behind!”

Xia Yang’s gaze pierced through the chaos, fixating on Sumo with skepticism. “You’re not on the payroll of Unicorn Game Studio. How are you so familiar with his name? Why do you refer to him as Manager Ma?”

Sumo’s desperation escalated, his voice cracking under stress. “It’s the ghost! The ghost knows Manager Ma! It’s the spirit of the one who died of sudden overwork! I’m innocent, I swear!” His plea echoed in the tense air, a man grappling with an inexplicable fate.

Ever the strategist, Gao Ming scanned their surroundings, his mind racing for a plan. “We need to secure these two first.” His eyes searched for anything that could be used to restrain them.

Sensing his impending loss of freedom, Manager Ma erupted into a frantic plea. “Listen to me! It’s true, a ghost! The delivery man, the body in the elevator, it tried to end me!” His voice crescendoed into a desperate shout as he bolted towards the safety passage. “You’re all in danger! That ghost... it’s latched onto him!”

With a burst of adrenaline, Manager Ma disappeared through the safety door, racing towards the sanctuary of Unicorn Game Studio.

Xia Yang remained still, his question lingering in the air, a challenge to their understanding of the situation. “Who’s the villain here? Who’s the victim?” He didn’t pursue Manager Ma but instead pivoted towards Gao Ming.

Gao Ming, taking charge, instructed Xia Yang. “Keep an eye on the delivery guy. I need to brief the rest of our team.” With that, he dashed down the corridor, heading back to Nightlight Game Studio, where the staff had dismissed the alarming messages on their phones as pranks.

Arriving at the studio, Gao Ming’s eyes swept the room. “Where’s Wei Dayou? Why are Li Jie and Zhang Wang missing?”

Intern Wang Yaoyao, the sole occupant, replied timidly, “I think they went to the restroom.”

Gao Ming issued a firm directive, “Stay here. Inform them not to leave once they return.” He reached for his phone, attempting to call his colleagues, but to no avail. “We have four floors of game developers here. We need to unite everyone within the hour!”

The task seemed daunting. Gao Ming had no idea how many were still working late, unaware of the lurking danger. The game allowed an hour’s respite, yet the challenge it posed was immense.

With no response from his team, Gao Ming headed towards the storeroom. In the romance game they developed, Xuan Wen was a character with an acute understanding of criminal psychology. Her abilities to decipher emotions and intentions, coupled with her superior intellect, would be invaluable to Gao Ming in unraveling the mystery that enshrouded them.

As Gao Ming cautiously opened the storeroom door, he was met with an eerie and unusual sight.

Xuan Wen, an anomaly in this game’s world, appeared to be in a fierce struggle against the encroaching shadows. These dark entities seemed intent on engulfing her, relentlessly trying to pull her into an abyss of darkness.

Xuan Wen’s figure was shrouded in these sinister shadows, their tendrils coiling around her. Her skin was marred by blackened veins, deeply embedded and radiating a forbidding aura that instinctively made people keep their distance.

“If it weren’t for the emotional strength I drew from those ten thousand souls, I doubt I’d have the chance to rejoin you in this game,” Xuan Wen remarked, her eyes bloodshot and intense, staring at Gao Ming. Despite the excruciating ordeal she had endured, she seemed to be gradually adapting to the cacophony of voices and overwhelming emotions flooding her mind.

Gao Ming extended a hand to help her up, feeling an unsettling chill from her touch, her skin as cold as a corpse’s. “Why do I sense a change in you, different from your usual demeanor, since you entered the game?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Xuan Wen, still enshrouded in darkness, replied with a hint of irony, “Don’t you appreciate the change? Remember how you said room-temperature milk tea without ice is pleasant?”

“I was referring to milk tea, not this situation.”

With Xuan Wen in tow, Gao Ming proceeded to the elevator lobby. There, they found Sumo, alone and visibly shaken.

“Why are you here by yourself?” Gao Ming demanded, grasping Sumo’s clothing.

No longer perceiving Gao Ming as a threat, Sumo clung to him for reassurance. “There were screams in the corridor. The person watching over me went to investigate.” His voice trembled as he continued, “I’m not the ghost, but I did encounter one today. It’s playing a deadly game with us, its mind warped and twisted!”

Leaving Sumo behind, Gao Ming and Xuan Wen pressed on, opening the safety door only to be assaulted by a pungent smell of blood.

The game’s hour had not yet elapsed, yet someone had already met a violent end.

With trepidation, Gao Ming led the way to the twelfth floor, where an eerie silence prevailed.

Descending to the eleventh floor, they were greeted by a grim scene: bloodstains and signs of struggle littered the ground.

“It appears someone is exploiting this chaos to prey on the other employees,” Gao Ming deduced, his voice heavy with the gravity of their dire circumstances.

The ghost game had morphed into a much darker, human-led slaughter, its brutality surpassing even the terror of an awakened ghost. The floors were deserted, save for the chilling evidence of bloodshed.

Upon reaching the tenth floor, Gao Ming and Xuan Wen were greeted by a macabre scene: walls splattered with blood, leading them to the prop room of the Unicorn Game Studio. The epicenter of the carnage seemed to be right there.

Gao Ming cautiously reached for the prop room door, but before he could open it, the oppressive shadows engulfing the floor began to retreat. The blood and its accompanying stench faded with the shadows as if absorbed by an unseen force.

“Has the game concluded? Did someone eliminate the person possessed by the ghost?” Gao Ming pondered, checking his phone. Only thirty-six minutes had elapsed since the game’s onset, and they had barely taken any action.

Xuan Wen, her voice laced with disgust, speculated, “It’s a monstrous act. To escape the game, someone decided to eliminate everyone else, methodically killing the employees until the one possessed by the ghost was also dead.”

Gao Ming, usually alert to the game’s deceptions, was now confronting a more harrowing reality: the depths of human cruelty.

Xuan Wen outlined their grim findings: “Firstly, the murderer must have prior experience with these games, quickly acting upon receiving the alert. Secondly, the murderer is among the survivors. Thirdly, they possess some devious power, enabling them to kill so many swiftly. And fourthly, it’s not me; we were together during the killings.”

Gao Ming, aware of her innocence, forcefully opened the prop room door. Inside, amidst fallen dolls and figurines, the remnants of blood and corpses were vanishing with the shadows.

A thorough search of the room led them to a black and white group photograph of the first work team at Unicorn Game Studio. The photo showed seven individuals known for their prowess and competitiveness.

With a trembling hand, Gao Ming held the photo as Xuan Wen gently grasped his wrist. “Do you feel responsible? This isn’t your fault. You’re a victim. Your death wouldn’t prevent future atrocities.”

Gao Ming’s voice was heavy with doubt. “If I were gone, would the games I designed cease to exist?”

Xuan Wen shook her head firmly. “No, they would spiral out of control, leaving this city without its only hope.”

Her words, though meant to comfort, hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the weight of their situation.