Eric's sudden realization plunged her into terror—how could this be happening?
Veteran players like Catherine, having honed their strategic thinking within supernatural realms, knew that slipping once between the flesh clusters might suffice, but such hideouts were like poisoned apples—repetition only invited peril.
Eric, still unseasoned, lacked such wary instincts; yet, by inverted reasoning, she resolved to return to the hall. With no suitable shelter there, she was forced to find the nearest flesh cluster before the footsteps closed in. Only one cluster loomed, denying her the solace of concealed gaps formed by multiple masses. To rectify her misjudgment, she summoned courage to cleave open the flesh and squeeze inside, unwittingly succumbing to premature infection by the mass.
Hiding within the flesh meant assimilation—Eric understood immediately, her face blanching.
*Pat, pat!*
The footsteps returned—how swiftly they circled back!
Without time to examine her ailing body, Eric dashed forward. Fortunately, an abundance of flesh clusters emerged, allowing her to weave through them in frantic evasion.
Such was the nature of hide-and-seek: victory belonged to those unseen rather than those who remained uncaught.
Yet mere flight proved futile as the footsteps quickened. Guarding her infected hand, Eric hesitated to reenter a cluster but eventually had no choice.
She knew it was a desperate poison to consume but was powerless otherwise.
Once the footsteps faded, Eric scrambled free, sensing an unnatural heaviness in her face. Consulting a mirror, horror struck: her visage had turned into lifeless flesh, unresponsive even under vigorous fingernail pressure. Attempting to blink, she found her eyelid muscles ungovernable.
Assimilation deepened. Glancing at her watch, only fifteen minutes had elapsed—half the allotted time remained, and what hope had she left? She recognized the folly of relying on flesh clusters as cover and resolved to change course.
Yet barely a minute later, the footsteps echoed anew. Turning, Eric noted the flesh mangled from the ceiling, a chaotic barrier obscuring the hostile NPC's form; only the cadence of steps revealed its proximity.
Pivoting back, she fled, her mind racing but devoid of solutions.
From behind a cluster came the footsteps—merely a turn away from exposure.
Desperation led Eric to grasp a plastic white bucket from a nearby supermarket, crouching swiftly and enveloping herself within it.
The footsteps halted just before her.
Face to face with death, Eric's heart nearly leapt from her throat; despair's weight suffused her utterly. This crisis eclipsed all before—was defeat truly imminent?
Yet newfound knowledge of tools and the game's workings assured her of yet untapped growth. With the supermarket as her unexpected ally, could she really be overcome now?
Terror, despair, sorrow—the specter of death stirred an old dream: one where her mother embraced her, a vision absent from her childhood memory.
That dream, vivid and soothing, calmed her in this moment.
All was well, she told herself.
Even if this time she perished again, it mattered little.
She had already died once, and entry into this game had granted her fifteen precious days more. Within those days, she had dreamt of her mother—granting her the motherly love she deeply lacked.
By that measure, she was fortunate. Should death come now, she would depart cradled once more in maternal arms.
"Found you."
A voice whispered eerily in her ear, causing shivers to ripple across her body, yet her mind remained acutely lucid.
Utter despair bred an eerie calm as she watched the plastic bucket lifted away.
The NPC bent down, a grotesque smile stretching across its face: "Found you."
Eric's body and soul froze, utterly immobile.
She braced for the maw to close upon her, yet the NPC spoke again: "Now it's your turn to be the ghost."
Darkness engulfed her vision. When sight returned, she found herself in a bizarre realm—her perspective shifted, as though viewing from a panoramic vantage above.
Before her eyes sprawled a building, each floor, every office, every corner, and even the underground parking, alongside all its inhabitants, lay exposed under her gaze. She possessed a godly omniscience—this edifice concealed nothing, an experience both disorienting and exhilarating.
At the crisis' nadir, a flicker of hope emerged, stirring Eric's emotions between sorrow and joy; yet she knew she must promptly compose herself and analyze the new reality.
Recalling the NPC's words.
"My turn to be the ghost?" she murmured, dawning comprehension breaking through. The final task had been triggered thus—the initial flight a mere illusion. If forced repeatedly to hide within flesh clusters by the pursuing footsteps, she had, by now, become assimilated into lifeless meat! Perhaps, when the next mission commenced, another player would wield a blade to sever her form and slip inside her bloodied flesh.
Indeed, the final task was a trap! Purporting a game of hide-and-seek, rational instinct compelled evasion; yet this game demanded to be found to unlock its secret layer.
With this epiphany, Eric hurriedly sought a means of escape.
The employees within the building moved with purpose, each attending to their duties. Eric observed the CEO in the top-floor office reprimanding a subordinate; in the break room, a startled cry arose as someone spilled coffee; the elevator was packed with hurried workers; fragrant steam wafted from the cafeteria; a chef, cleaving bone, cast a murderous glare at the vegetable washer. In the subterranean parking lot, Ms. Wang was abruptly seized by unseen hands clutching her neck in the shadows, dragged away as an inconspicuous van slipped silently out.
Near the lobby, a man paused mid-step, phone pressed to his ear, exclaiming incredulously, "Mr. Chen reneged? I've been courting him daily—he was supposed to agree!"
All the myriad dramas of this tower unfolded before Eric's gaze in a single, sweeping glance.
She soon grasped her new reality: she was now the ghost, tasked with finding a successor to take her place.
But who among this building's multitude were human, and who were specters?
Methodically, she scanned floor by floor, inspecting each occupant. Through her "vision," every individual seemed entirely human—there was no hint of the supernatural. She even "approached" them, discerning their gazes, sensing their breaths and heartbeats.
Around and around she searched, the building's inhabitants endlessly streaming by; the sight dizzying in its breadth.
All were living beings! If any could be chosen blindly, this mission would be far too facile.
Suddenly, she sensed someone enter the lobby.
"I'm the delivery person…"
A flash of insight sparked within Eric. She seized that figure, heart pounding: "Got you!"
Elsewhere, Catherine identified her chosen target and successfully escaped back to the hall.
The hall remained seemingly unharmed. The grinning NPC cast a malevolent glance as she emerged first: "Playing games with you is no fun. Off you go."
Without a word, Catherine stepped into the glowing portal in the lobby, unhesitatingly.
Behind her came Justin and Scott, nearly abreast.
"Should we wait for the others?" Justin inquired.
Scott shot him a skeptical look. "Seriously? You want to hold a farewell gathering after everyone's out? Those who survive are hardly in need of chatting."
"Interested in joining the Mingyang Mutual Aid Society?" Justin asked.
Scott's brows furrowed sharply. "You're with Mingyang? No thanks!" He turned and strode away; Justin paid no mind, vigilantly guarding the portal.
Subsequently, two more players emerged—Sarah stayed, intrigued by Mingyang, while Gary departed after friendly thanks.
"Anyone else coming out? Even if we've cleared it, we can't linger."
Justin nodded. "Let's go." Among the promising recruits, securing even one was a gain. Regrettably, Eric—the woman gifted with exceptional luck or possessing rare items—was beyond reach, though such players were always welcome in Mingyang.
The two vanished through the portal.
Three minutes later, Eric stumbled from the hall, her complexion ghostly pale, steps unsteady, her vision swirling with golden stars.
Spotting the portal's faint glow, she wavered and collapsed into it.
Upon returning to the pillar forest, an announcement resonated in her mind:
[Player Eric has completed the supernatural dungeon: Best Employee, earning 44 points.]
Tormenting unease in body and spirit robbed Eric of any immediate joy upon victory. Hastily, she purchased and applied a spectral healing pack.
Once used, the oppressive aura dissipated entirely, and her dizziness abated. Eric reckoned that dwelling too long in the godlike vantage had taxed her beyond endurance; had she failed to find a "human," she might have been doomed to remain trapped within that building.
That perspective… was remarkably akin to the building's own gaze.
"Could the building itself be possessed?" Eric murmured, pondering if it had become a spectral entity.
In any case, the dungeon's challenge deepened Eric's understanding of the supernatural, reminding her of the long journey still ahead.
Stepping from the mission hall, she was surprised to see Justin awaiting her.
His smile rewarded her return—her survival vindicated his patience.
"Care to join me for lunch?" he offered.
Justin's commanding presence during the dungeon left a strong impression; he bore the aura of a leader and truly acted as such. Faced with the invitation from such a seasoned player, Eric found refusal impossible.
"Certainly."
Yet the "lunch" Justin referred to was not in a humble eatery but the presidential suite of a hotel.
Costing 20 points per day, even at a half-price monthly rate, the suite demanded 300 points—yet Eric's personal balance barely reached 152 points!
A lavish expenditure indeed!