Sacrifice

The players of *Wasteland Online* were famously enthusiastic, and the armchair gamers were especially eager—practically itching to snatch a helmet and jump into the fray themselves. Not long after Medical Miracle posted his thread, lines of replies rapidly flooded the comment section. "Pretending to be crazy isn't hard at all. Just be yourself!" "Uhhh... how about downing a bowl of hot shit first?" "Blegh—" "My eyes! Besides, eating shit in secret would probably get your account banned, wouldn't it?!" "I think you only get banned if you do it in public..." "Fuck, what's so hard about playing crazy? Just jump up, bust out the 'Subject Three' dance, and top it off with some screaming hype rap! Forget the NPCs—even Ah Guang peeking at your screen would be utterly dumbfounded!" "Pfft—stop, my toes are already curling hard enough to dig out a four-bedroom flat for Ah Guang." Staring at the unfamiliar IDs and "Pre-registered Player" badges, Medical Miracle was completely bewildered. After scrolling for ages without finding a single sensible suggestion, he nearly spat out his mouthful of takeout. "Holy crap! Give me some real advice, will you?!" Fang Chang: "Is there a possibility that they *are* giving you serious advice? (side-eye)" Medical Miracle: "?" Elven King Fugui: "Holy shit?! Brother Fang Chang?!" Mole: "Wait, aren't you up in space? (dazed)" In Debt God: "How's the mission going? Did you already wrap it up? (smirking)" Elaina: "That'd be way too fast. My guess is he just logged off to coordinate with his teammates out-of-game." An hour ago, Brother Fang Chang had been bragging on the forums about being on his way to save the world, only to turn around and pop up again. Everyone was surprised that he had the leisure to shitpost on the forums in the middle of such a mission. Perhaps realizing that now was not the time to slack off, Fang Chang only bubbled up for a moment before vanishing from the thread, refusing to reappear no matter how many times people tagged him. The thread soon derailed. What started as a discussion on how to play the fool gradually shifted toward geostationary orbit and the "secret mission" the Burning Corps was currently undertaking. Medical Miracle tried several times to steer the conversation back on track, and just when it looked like he was about to succeed, another ID popped up and completely derailed his hard-won progress. Jieyan: "Uh, we blew it. (guilty)" The thread went dead silent for several seconds. The bustling discussion seemed struck by a silence spell, without a single new reply for quite some time. Just as all the onlookers thought the server had lagged, replies erupted like an avalanche. Sisi: "...?" Tail: "???" Mole: "What the hell do you mean, you blew it? (dumbfounded)" Commander Spring: "Can you Burning Corps guys finish your sentences in one go instead of dropping them one line at a time? You're going to give me a heart attack. (sweat)" Lao Bai: "Haha, sorry, everyone. Even the best stumble sometimes, especially against something we've never seen before... In short, we got played." Brother Edge: "Holy shit..." Commander Spring: "You shouldn't joke about stuff like that..." Lao Bai: "Which is why it isn't a joke." In Debt God: "For real?! (terrified)" Construction Site Boy and Bricks: "Does that mean... it's doomsday?! (terrified)" Thunder King Professor Yang: "Fuck, is the silver coin market about to crash?! (terrified)" Tengteng: "You really treat silver coins like the stock market, don't you... (surprised)" Yaya: "Nooo, I don't want to restart! QAQ" Lao Bai: "Cough, don't talk nonsense. Even if we failed, that doesn't mean the Alliance has lost. The near-orbit defense platform currently being deployed is the main event." Kuang Feng: "Yeah. At the very least, we managed to scout out the actual situation on that Orion-class missile cruiser." Fang Chang: "The scary part is if the Administrator and our team both thought the other was the final trump card... (side-eye)" Lao Bai: "Don't be so defeatist. It's just a minor setback—not even as bad as the times we wiped out in Bolo Province. (grinning)" Fang Chang: "Regardless, we really did our best... Next, we either ask the Academy for another research ship to try again, or we can only wait." Medical Miracle: "Looks like it's up to me to save the Alliance! On that note, what do I do after fooling the interrogators by playing crazy? How do I climb into the Enlightenment Society's upper ranks? Can we brainstorm that instead? (grinning)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Speaking of which, where's Ye Shi? He's usually the first to jump in. How come I haven't seen him this time?" Killing Dagger: "Uh... his little girlfriend bit the dust. He's probably off being emo." Brother Edge: "What?! Jiang Xuezhou... is dead?" Tail: "*Giao*... (shocked)" Fang Chang: "In that kind of situation... it's hard to imagine anyone surviving." Lao Bai: "It's space, after all." Most of the players in the thread felt conflicted, unsure of what to say for a moment. Especially Fang Chang. His mind involuntarily drifted to Dolly, and a wrenching ache gripped his chest—a pain so sharp it made it hard to breathe. No matter how many times a player died, they could always respawn. But for an NPC, death meant their data was permanently erased. He couldn't imagine a world without her. Because of that, he understood Ye Shi's current feelings all too well. It had to be an unbearable feeling... Just as Fang Chang was thinking this, a familiar ID popped up on the screen. Jiu Jiu Loves Pineapples: "Wait... that's not right. My brother is still online. Did you guys get something wrong? (confused)" Fang Chang: "?" Jieyan: "How is that possible?!" Jiu Jiu Loves Pineapples: "Should I wake him up? (worried)" Fang Chang: "...No, leave him alone for now. Let him wake up on his own!" Kuang Feng: "That's a bit strange. Let's wait and see." Jiu Jiu Loves Pineapples: "Got it! Understood! (salute)" Medical Miracle: "Holy crap! Pay attention to me! (fuming)" Angry Fatty Liver: "F to pay respects." "..." Messages continued to refresh in the thread. Sitting before his computer, Fang Chang waited for a long time without seeing Ye Shi's ID appear. The tight expression on his face finally relaxed into a faint smile, and the weight hanging in his heart gently lifted. "...Looks like I was getting worked up over nothing." Maybe the guy hadn't died after all. Looking at the helmet resting beside his computer, Fang Chang felt a stir of hope and reached out to pick it up. What if it was all a misunderstanding? Maybe... None of them had died. Driven by some inexplicable impulse, he slipped the helmet back on and leaned against his chair. A profound darkness quickly swallowed his vision and thoughts. Just as his heart was thumping wildly against his ribs, a pale blue pop-up window materialized before his eyes, sending his surging hopes plummeting straight to rock bottom. [Remaining Respawn Time: 70 hours, 30 minutes, 15 seconds] The ticking numbers were like a splash of freezing water to his face. Fang Chang let out a bitter laugh and pulled off the helmet. "Right..." Shaking his head, he set the helmet on the corner of the desk. "The entire research ship blew up. How could anyone have survived...?" *** Rewinding to an hour and a half earlier— In the deep, dark expanse of outer space, a magnificent starship floated in total silence amidst a vast ocean of steel debris within an abandoned graveyard. Drifting in that boundless boneyard were not just mangled steel frameworks and severed conduits, but also bodies clad in spacesuits. Judging by the oxidized remains visible inside the suits, most of these people had starved or frozen to death; only a few had died of oxygen deprivation. There were also shredded pieces of aerospace force uniforms whose wearers were nowhere to be found. Their bodies had either exploded or been shredded by orbital debris. Without the protection of a spacesuit, leaving an intact corpse in space was virtually impossible. If Shelter 13 was paradise on Earth, then the *Orion* missile cruiser was undoubtedly hell in the heavens. Even though two centuries had passed since that war, the savage brutality of the ancient conflict remained clearly etched across the scarred ruins... At this moment, on a certain deck of the derelict starship, a man wearing a jetpack stared expressionlessly at a hibernation pod before him. The pod door hung open, revealing a cold skeleton lying inside. The skeleton wore a military uniform from the Human Alliance era. Under the beam of the flashlight, the gold-trimmed insignia still looked pristine, unsullied by two centuries of passing time. Luo Yi stared at the skull for a long time, verifying the nearly unrecognizable face. After a moment, as if finally convinced that this was indeed the person he was looking for, he reached out and searched the skeleton's remains. From beneath the curled finger bones, he retrieved a bright silver metal disc. It was the soldier's dog tag. And his sole remaining relic. By the flashlight's beam, Luo Yi confirmed the name and rank stamped upon it. [Luo Yi, Sergeant.] It was his own name! A trace of nostalgia surfaced in Luo Yi's eyes, his thoughts involuntarily drifting back more than two hundred years. Just then, however, a voice crackling over the comms channel interrupted his reverie. "Unidentified flying object approaching. Direct distance remaining: 1,200 kilometers." It was the voice of the starship's control system. On the ground, such a distance would hardly warrant concern, but on an astronomical scale, a straight-line distance of 1,200 kilometers was practically point-blank. Tapping his index finger lightly beside his ear, Luo Yi looked up at the ceiling and inquired without emotion, "Can you confirm their identity?" The gentle electronic voice continued, "Their vessel is the same model as the one you parked outside." Hearing this, Luo Yi instantly deduced the uninvited guests' identity, and a cold sneer curled at the corner of his lips. Had these people arrived a few days earlier—striking before he restarted the auxiliary reactor and secured control of the starship—he might have had cause to be wary. But by now, it was far too late. Though this starship had lain dormant for two centuries, that did not mean it had been reduced to scrap metal. Pausing briefly, he commanded in a deep voice, "Scan for usable close-in defense weaponry." After a short silence, the gentle electronic voice sounded in his ear once more. "There is one electromagnetic point-defense autocannon... According to the ballistic computer's calculations, its field of fire covers their flight trajectory." Luo Yi immediately ordered, "Shoot them down." The gentle voice responded, "Understood... Fire control unit is powering up. Estimated completion within thirty seconds." Casting one last look at the dog tag in his hand, Luo Yi slipped it into his pocket, engaged the switch on his jetpack, and began flying back toward the bridge. Meanwhile, outside the starship, a silver-gray research vessel was steadily approaching. Having finally navigated the asteroid belt of space debris before their shield capacitors ran dry, Jiang Xuezhou let out a long sigh of relief, leaning back against her seat in exhaustion. "Done..." Seeing that they had reached their destination, Ye Shi reached to unbuckle his safety harness, only for Jiang Xuezhou to catch his arm. "Wait..." Ye Shi paused his hands and gave her a puzzled look. "What's wrong?" Biting her lower lip gently, Jiang Xuezhou kept her head lowered and murmured softly, "Can you... stay here with me? I'm scared to be alone." Ye Shi froze, genuinely baffled. "What's there to be scared of? Didn't we just get through the most dangerous part?" Jiang Xuezhou's face was fraught with hesitation, whether because she couldn't find the words or simply didn't want to explain. Seeing that they were practically at their stop, Ye Shi didn't really feel like waiting around and moved to stand up. Seeing him about to leave, Jiang Xuezhou cast embarrassment aside and blurted out in desperation, "It's—it's thalassophobia! Haven't you ever heard of that?! Some people are just born terrified of deep, pitch-black places... What am I supposed to do about it?!" *Huh?!* Ye Shi stared at her dumbfounded, only managing to squeeze out a reply after a long beat. "Can't you just power through it?" "..." Jiang Xuezhou didn't answer, merely glaring at him with reddened eyes. In the end, Ye Shi's resolve softened. He let out a sigh and tapped his helmet twice. "Lao Bai, I've got a situation here..." Before he could piece his explanation together, Lao Bai's hearty laughter came through the comms channel. "Haha, got it. Just stay in the cockpit." Ye Shi: "Holy shit?! Did you plant a bug on me?" Lao Bai chuckled. "Not quite, but I had a pretty good guess. To be honest, Fang Chang planned it this way from the start. There's no need for everyone to head out anyway, and leaving someone on the research ship gives us backup. Just keep an eye on out-of-game messages, and don't spend all your attention on your friend." Ye Shi was struck speechless for several seconds before quietly cutting the connection. Knowing he had been conferring with his teammates, Jiang Xuezhou kept her eyes fixed on him from the pilot's seat. The moment he hung up, she asked, "What did your teammates say?" "They didn't say much. Just told me to play it by ear." Meeting those shimmering, expectant eyes, Ye Shi suddenly felt a twinge of self-consciousness and averted his gaze. The NPCs in this game acted way too human. Could they actually be played by real people? That would be intensely awkward. "Sorry about that. I've always been pretty thick-skinned since I was a kid. Never experienced fear of heights, carsickness, motion sickness in 3D games, none of that. I figure that thalassophobia thing must be similar... Anyway, thanks for hanging in there this far." Surprised that this guy was capable of showing concern, Jiang Xuezhou felt a warmth rise to her cheeks. Overcome with embarrassment, she quickly looked away, turning her face to the side. "I-it's not as dramatic as you make it sound... Honestly, if I push myself, I can manage it." Looking at how stubbornly she tried to save face, Ye Shi couldn't resist the urge to tease her. "Then should I leave?" "!!!" Seeing her spin around in sheer panic, Ye Shi couldn't hold back a burst of laughter. "Haha, I'm just kidding—" Before the words had completely left his mouth, a sudden jolt of foreboding seized his mind, making his heart clench involuntarily. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt before. Even after teetering on the edge of death countless times—even having experienced dying firsthand—he had never felt anything like this. It was as if... He was about to lose something far more precious than a life that revived every three days. Driven by that intense premonition, the words slipped out of him like an involuntary reflex. "Something's locked onto us..." The moment she heard those words, Jiang Xuezhou instantly shed her flustered expression, the fist she had raised to punch his head dropping instantly. Without a shred of doubt or hesitation, she lunged toward the controls, her fingers blurring across the holographic console as she threw the research vessel into a sharp lateral evasive burn, altering its original vector. She didn't even wait for the early-warning radar to chime! Almost simultaneously, a surging electromagnetic spike flashed across the research vessel's console alongside a high-speed collision alarm! Watching the cluster of kinetic masses streak past the research vessel on the radar display, cold sweat instantly beaded on Jiang Xuezhou's forehead. Too close! Just by a hair! The Academy's research vessel was an exploration ship, not military hardware. While its deflector shields could deflect kinetic rounds from mass accelerators, they were facing the close-in weapon system of a Human Alliance aerospace cruiser! Not to mention they had only just cleared the debris field, and the shield capacitors had only regenerated to thirty percent... Even if only one or two point-defense guns were tracking them, it was more than enough to tear them apart! "What happened?" Ye Shi coughed violently, the safety harness having clamped down so hard it nearly squeezed the previous night's dinner out of him. Thank goodness he hadn't managed to undo the buckle earlier, or that violent jerk would have sent him straight to the afterlife. Jiang Xuezhou remained relatively composed. After taking several deep breaths, she steadied herself. "Point-defense system!" Ye Shi blinked blankly. "What the hell is that?" "Like the ones on the South Sea Alliance destroyers... well, something similar!" Jiang Xuezhou explained, her hands dancing continuously across the holographic interface as she fought to break the gun's tracking lock. Ye Shi stared at her profile in sheer disbelief, unable to hold back a curse. "Holy shit?! That broken-down hulk has been parked for two hundred years and it can still fire?!" "We're not on Earth!" Jiang Xuezhou snapped frantically. "Things in space don't break down so easily! Especially on a decompressed vessel... Tell your teammates to brace! We can't slow down!" "They're braced tight... already cursing up a storm." Tapping his helmet, Ye Shi bared his teeth and stared straight ahead, trying to push his Perception to the limit. Yet he soon realized that aside from that initial spike, his intuition was virtually useless in a point-blank dogfight. Under Jiang Xuezhou's control, the research ship danced through erratic maneuvers, while the whistling kinetic slugs and the dread of death never let up for a second! Without question— His instincts warned him that they could evade the point-defense targeting a thousand times, but a single slip-up would reduce them to dust! A separation of less than three hundred kilometers was practically point-blank range! Both sides were anticipating each other's moves, silently calculating every trajectory and evasive roll! As the party taking fire, Jiang Xuezhou held no advantage whatsoever. The best tactical move right now wasn't to press forward, but to disengage and retreat immediately— Yet they had no other choice. One hundred thousand neutron torpedoes were in the hands of the Celestials! There was nowhere left to run! "Aaargh..." Pale blue streams of data reflected in Jiang Xuezhou's pupils, strained grunts escaping her slightly parted lips. To pilot the vessel with absolute precision, she linked her consciousness directly into the ship's deep-layer operating system, harnessing its processing power and every sensor array—including the panoramic feeds—to achieve direct control! She was throwing everything she had into this! Thinking of her thalassophobia, Ye Shi felt an ache in his chest, yet he had no idea how to help. Just then, Fang Chang's calm voice came through his ear. "Ye Shi! Tell Jiang Xuezhou not to decelerate! Just dump us near the breach in the hull!" Ye Shi froze, blurting out, "Fuck, are you guys crazy?!" This wasn't an airplane! The velocity and inertia were no joke. Forget being turned into meat paste on impact—if something went wrong, their bodies would disintegrate in midair before their feet ever touched a surface. Fang Chang's voice remained steady. "It's our highest probability of success. The reverse thrust from the nitrogen cylinders should be enough to brake before we hit the target, and we can draw some of the point-defense fire... Rather than having everyone die on one ship, this way at least a few of us might get inside alive! Stop hesitating, hurry!" Hearing the urgency in his voice, Ye Shi didn't dare waste another second. He turned toward Jiang Xuezhou and shouted, "Xuezhou! My teammates say don't bother decelerating! When you pass the breach, just blow the hatches!" Jiang Xuezhou shot back without thinking, "Have your teammates lost their minds?! Did their brains get shaken to mush?! Do they think this is an airplane?!" "We don't have another option, do we?! We can't decelerate like this anyway... Trust me! Just skim right over the breach and keep flying toward the bow. It's the best shot we have!" Seeing Jiang Xuezhou still hesitating, Ye Shi drew a deep breath and spoke with absolute earnestness. "I trust you... Use your calculations to get them in as best you can. Please!" Jiang Xuezhou gritted her teeth, her eyes tightening. "I'll try..." He was right. Decelerating under these conditions was impossible. They had to gamble! As long as they had sufficient braking distance, using the nitrogen thrusters to achieve autonomous orbital insertion wasn't entirely out of the question. Just as Jiang Xuezhou adjusted her approach, accelerating toward the breach along the starship's flank, Luo Yi—having just seated himself on the bridge—sat behind the dust-streaked floor-to-ceiling viewport, admiring the elegant "dance." Those wasteland insects had certainly pushed that silver-gray research ship to its absolute limits, but what did it matter? Watching the struggling little bugs suddenly accelerate, Luo Yi's mouth curved into a chilling smile. "Petty tricks." He had been a soldier of the Human Alliance aerospace forces; he saw through their intentions in an instant. A boarding action? He would never give them the chance. Closing his eyes, Luo Yi sat alone in the captain's chair and spoke calmly. "Starship Master Control." The gentle electronic voice drifted into his ears. "I am here." Watching the research ship draw ever closer to the *Orion*, he gave the order without emotion. "Launch one neutron torpedo." "Apologies, but the current distance is unsuitable. Given the effective radius of the neutron flux, you will also be affected." A trace of hesitation lingered in the gentle voice. As the shipboard AI of the *Orion*, its primary directive was to safeguard the lives of the crew. Luo Yi showed no concern whatsoever. "Doesn't matter. Do as I say." The captain's command was absolute. Even when it conflicted with safety protocols. With only a momentary pause, the shipboard AI accepted Luo Yi's reiterated order and armed the torpedo that had hung on the launch rail for nearly two centuries. Though poorly maintained, with its guidance sensors completely dead, it was still fully capable of detonating. At this range, aiming wasn't even necessary. They were dead! Simultaneously, after a flurry of evasive maneuvers, the research ship finally swept alongside the *Orion*! Without a second's delay, Jiang Xuezhou blew the cargo bay doors and released the safety locks on every seat. Driven by momentum and decompression, the power-armored figures strapped into their seats tumbled out like spinning tops, tracing arcs as they hurtled toward the nearby starship. "Hold steady, brothers!" "Clutch your nitrogen canisters! Fire toward the ship!" "Fuck—where the hell is the ship?!" "Blegh! I'm gonna puke—" To be fair, Jiang Xuezhou's trajectory calculations were remarkably precise; barring accidents, most of them would land inside that gaping breach. Yet the ejection was so violent that even Awakened players struggled to endure it. Agility-type players fared slightly better. Relying on his Agility talent, Bullet Time, Fang Chang wrestled with his nitrogen canister and managed to stabilize the spinning seat. Just then, however, a blinding flash of white light erupted from the pitch-black void, instantly wiping out his vision. Was that... A neutron torpedo?! A searing, prickling agony scorched across the surface of his skin. Fang Chang tried to call his teammates, but the comms were already dead. Objectively speaking, this weapon's lethal radius against personnel was far deadlier than conventional nuclear warheads. After all, power armor was specifically designed to operate in CBRN environments. Though the Xiaguang power armor was developed and manufactured by the Alliance itself, its overall performance wasn't far behind pre-war power armor. Especially in terms of nuclear and biochemical shielding... Yet his invisible health bar was evaporating at a speed visible to the naked eye. With the last dregs of his vision, Fang Chang saw the silver-gray research ship spin out of control, slamming straight into the wreckage of the *Orion*. Like a fly with its head severed, it crashed violently near the lower decks. A brilliant explosion bloomed. He caught a fleeting glimpse of rolling flames and saw alloy fragments scattering through the void. His heart shuddered violently. Having never taken death seriously, he had never feared its arrival as much as he did at this moment. "No..." The game did not pause. The very next second— Chilling digits filled his vision. [Remaining Respawn Time: 72 hours, 0 minutes, 0 seconds]