MMPS Ch. 46

Chapter 46: Embracing the Cold

It’s so cold!

The light was slowly devoured by the polar night, and thick snowflakes slapped against Yu An’s cheeks. Hanging from the speeding train, he used every ounce of strength to climb onto the roof and lie flat. His hand, clutching the Armor-Piercing Awl, had gone numb from the cold, nearly losing all feeling.

This couldn’t possibly be part of the game’s design. The Lost Town scenario seemed to have merged with reality, and this train was hurtling toward its real-world counterpart—the actual Riyu Town.

According to Zhao Ran, Riyu Town spent half the year in complete darkness, without a trace of sunlight. That meant its location was likely near the Arctic or Antarctic.

The temperature kept dropping, plummeting by one degree Celsius every ten seconds. The wind chill felt like minus forty degrees. Yu An’s entire body, even his eyelashes, was coated in a thin layer of frost.

As the train roared through the boundary between day and night, Yu An’s traveler’s cloak began to change. The parts of the burlap cloak that crossed the boundary vanished, leaving behind the pure black hoodie he had been wearing underneath. By the time the train fully crossed the boundary, Yu An’s in-game traveler’s cloak had completely transformed into his real-world black outfit.

Inside the lining of his jacket was a black semicircular sticker. A nuclear cartridge expansion he had recently bought from the Midnight Trader. It could hold four Aberrant Cores, though he hadn’t used it yet. He had casually tossed the newly purchased Reverse Fairy Tale core and the level-one blue core he had extracted from the mechanical wolf into it.

If only he had filled it with useful cores!

Was this a disconnection? Or had he fallen into a rift in distorted space?

Yu An suddenly heard a soft, childish cooing sound from the back of his neck. Turning his head, he saw the pixelated baby nestled in his hood, sucking on its fingers. Its pixelated face was red from the cold, with two small red squares on its cheeks.

The game Gray Crow: Toy House had become a virtual illusion chamber itself. Combined with the fact that the technical team had chosen an abandoned circus’s illusionr chamber as the physical link for the game’s flexible movement mechanics, the overlapping of illusion chambers had created too many variables, leading to a bug.

Fortunately, the pure black hoodie had insulating and windproof properties, significantly slowing down heat loss.

The pixelated baby still had some warmth, and tucking it behind his neck provided a bit of heat, which was why Yu An hadn’t thrown it away immediately.

The train roof was now covered in a layer of snow crystals. Yu An’s hands, purple from the cold, were slowly losing control, slipping off the hilt of the Armor-Piercing Awl. He slid backward on the train roof, his exhaled breath turning to frost. Ice crystals seemed to form all the way from his nostrils to his lungs. His vision blurred, growing darker.

What would happen if he froze to death here? Would his real body still be standing in Hongli City?

*

Yu An and Zhao Ran’s bodies, still covered in connection points, sat under the watchful eyes of the technical and mechanical teams.

“Team Leader Zhao’s emotional fluctuations just spiked. Did he encounter the target?”

The rapidly scrolling programs on the screen reflected in Yong Zheng’s pupils. His expression was grave. “Something’s happened to Yu An.”

Ji Nian, with a tool belt slung over his shoulder and tools in hand, paced between Yu An and Zhao Ran.

“Yu An’s burning up,” Ji Nian noticed the sudden fluctuations on the data board and gestured for an intern from the emergency team to come over.

Ruan Xiaoli from the emergency team rushed over with a first aid kit, kneeling beside Yu An to check his condition.

“He’s running a fever. His consciousness might be in an extreme cold environment, and his brain is trying to generate enough heat to sustain life. We need to cool him down urgently, but if this continues, his body won’t hold out. A mental breakdown is inevitable.”

“Extreme cold environment? I don’t remember that being part of the game’s design.” Yong Zheng muttered, focusing on the scrolling code. Then, a line of “blizzard” code rolled into view.

“There it is… I’ll delete it.”

“Delete code now? You didn’t build this game’s framework. Deleting too much will just cause more bugs.” Ji Nian said, bringing over a basin of cold water to soak a towel and place it on Yu An’s forehead.

“It’s fine. I’ll write a new bug—I mean, new code to replace it. It’ll work.” Yong Zheng said confidently.

*

Yu An woke from a brief unconsciousness, possibly due to paradoxical undressing caused by hypothermia. He didn’t feel as cold as before.

His stiff body shifted slightly, shaking off a thick layer of snow that had accumulated on his back. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t snow but a thick layer of the Chinese characters for “blizzard.”

The sky was now raining down clusters of the characters for “blizzard,” which didn’t feel cold but stung as they hit his face because the sharp edges of the characters were a bit prickly.

Yu An, braving the “blizzard,” slowly crawled over and grabbed the Armor-Piercing Awl again to avoid sliding off the train roof.

The train’s whistle sounded, and its speed gradually slowed as it came to a stop at the station.

Yu An finally regained some strength and jumped off the roof, cautiously peeking into the train car. The smell of instant meal boxes wafted through the air. The luggage racks were packed, some seats had blankets draped over them, and half-eaten food sat on small tables. But the car was eerily silent and empty, with no passengers in sight. It was as if they had vanished into thin air or never existed at all.

Yu An noted the train’s number, K88M88, and the station name, Riyu Town. The next stop was Rihuan Town.

Under the dim light, the distant town was blanketed in snow and ice. Groups of small houses had warm yellow lights glowing in their windows, and copper oil lamps hung by their doors, the flames driving away the cold.

Yu An brushed the snow off a window to peer inside, but the house was empty, with no one home. He had no choice but to follow the winding path deeper into the town, wandering aimlessly. He began to lose interest in the mission’s target aberration, his thoughts consumed by Zhao Ran.

Zhao Ran’s unusual behavior made Yu An think he didn’t want him getting close to Riyu Town. Moreover, Zhao Ran never spoke about his past, as if he were hiding something.

The more Zhao Ran didn’t want him to do something, the more Yu An wanted to do it. This was the best chance to uncover the secrets of Riyu Town. To prevent Zhao Ran from interfering, Yu An needed to find a way to separate from him.

There was definitely something fishy about his hands. Even if, as Zhao Ran claimed, his left hand was embedded with an Aberrant Core, it didn’t explain the room full of small hands serving him.

“Could it be that those hands were all taken from the residents of Riyu Town? Did Zhao Ran meticulously approach me, train me to be obedient, just to collect my arms?”

Would he have to serve Zhao Ran tea and water in the future, and even play games with his new boyfriend? Yu An couldn’t help but recall the tasks he had assigned to those small hands, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest and a pang in his liver.

It might be better to strike first. Cut off Zhao Ran’s hands, pry out the Aberrant Cores, tie him up, and do whatever he wanted.

This could count as self-defense.

He just hadn’t expected to end up on this mysterious train, taken so far away. For now, finding an exit was the priority. Ordinary people couldn’t last long in such extreme cold.

The sound of his boots crunching on the snow echoed softly as Yu An cut through the ropes and fences meant to keep outsiders away. Under the cover of night, he quickly made his way deeper into the town.

In the distance, a fire burned. The townspeople had gathered around a wide square, kneeling in the snow, wrapped in thick animal pelts for warmth. They bowed their heads in devout prayer. In the center of the square, a bonfire was lit, surrounded by copper plates holding offerings of various sizes.

The copper plates held freshly killed, unfrozen meat, high-quality fish, and next to each offering was a transparent container of equal height.

Closest to the bonfire, three copper plates were arranged in a triangle. Each plate held a sleeping baby, and beside each baby was also a transparent container.

Above the bonfire hung a massive drum. A shamaness, barefoot, danced in the center of the drum, holding a copper ruler and rhythmically shaking and striking it.

By observing and piecing things together, Yu An roughly understood the offering ritual. Each family likely contributed an offering, placed on a different copper plate. After a night of prayer, the shamaness would use the copper ruler to measure the height of the snow in the transparent containers. The offering with the highest snow level would be deemed chosen by the deity and transported to their god.

The three copper plates holding the babies were actually part of a three-sided scale, pre-balanced according to the babies’ weights. Now, all that was left was to wait for the judgment of the blizzard. The weight of the accumulated snow would determine which infant would be sent away.

Under the bonfire, most of the villagers bowed their heads in prayer. Only three pairs of haggard parents, their eyes red and swollen, stared unblinkingly at the three-sided scale. Every slight movement of the copper plates tugged at their heartstrings. This terrifying night would be spent in unbearable dread.

Did the deity they worshipped truly exist? Yu An considered finding a corner to hide, waiting until the results were announced tomorrow. Then, he could sneak onto the boat transporting the offerings, make a round trip, and bring the child back. Using the child as leverage, extracting information from the parents would be a breeze.

As Yu An was plotting his next move, a sharp cry startled him, nearly making him jump. At first, he thought it was one of the infants on the scale crying, but then he realized it was the pixelated baby in his hood, waking up.

The villagers, hearing the strange noise, opened their eyes and quickly grabbed their harpoons and torches, charging toward Yu An, the uninvited intruder, with furious shouts.

“Damn kid, I should’ve thrown you away earlier.” Yu An muttered, surrounded on all sides. The Armor-Piercing Awl was deadly, but its blade was too short to fend off the frenzied villagers armed with weapons. He was completely outmatched.

The Armor-Piercing Awl cleanly sliced through an iron harpoon, but a burning torch was thrust at him from behind. The scorching flame struck his waist, causing him to stumble. Several harpoons crossed over him, pinning him to the ground, leaving him unable to move.

Yu An panted furiously, regretting not having Zhao Ran draw a high-powered bat earlier. If he had, he could’ve smashed all their heads in.

Suddenly, he noticed something strange. The young, able-bodied villagers here had both hands intact, unlike what he had imagined.

Had he wronged Zhao Ran, or had he missed a specific time frame?

The gathered villagers whispered among themselves, and Yu An could roughly understand their discussion. They believed encountering an outsider on the eve of the sacrifice was a bad omen and debated killing him to offer him along with the other sacrifices to their deity.

Snowflakes fell silently, as if trying to bury the tiny village. At one moment, the light snow seemed to gain weight all at once. The three-sided scale tilted, and one of the copper plates holding an infant sank.

A brief, disbelieving silence was shattered by wails. Two couples, their hearts finally at ease, embraced each other, weeping with relief. The third couple, struck by the sudden tragedy, stood frozen, tears welling in their bloodshot eyes.

The devastated couple crawled to the shamaness’s feet, begging and pleading. But the shamaness replied with pity, “Your sacrifice will bring light to Riyu.”

Seeing everyone’s attention fixed on the copper scale, Yu An seized the moment to struggle violently. He freed one hand, propping himself up halfway, and raised the pixelated baby high, coldly declaring:

“Want to trade? I’ll deliver it myself.”

Setting Manual 2 (Aberrant Growth Stages):

Aberration Growth Stages

1. Infancy: The aberration core has formed within the body, but the physical form is not yet mature. During this stage, the aberration has low intelligence and acts on instinct, such as the goat-headed aberration.
2. Growth Stage: The aberration’s body and mind have matured, with its size and intelligence largely stabilized. It begins to understand its species and gender, developing reproductive tendencies.

During this stage, the aberration can secrete special hormones, leaving unique totem marks on other species to facilitate parasitic activities.

The radiation from the totem marks repels other aberrations.

3. Cocoon Stage: After growing for a certain period, the aberration begins to feel that its body can no longer contain the increasing internal energy. It forms a cocoon, awaiting the right moment for further transformation.

Inside the cocoon, the aberration becomes extremely ferocious, devouring all surrounding life.

Any creature can enter the cocoon, but only those with totem marks matching the cocoon’s pattern can leave alive.

4. Emergence Stage: If the aberration successfully progresses through the cocoon stage, it enters the emergence stage, reaching the peak of its life’s strength. However, it can only survive for six hours.
5. Metamorphosis Stage: If the aberration is killed by a creature with a totem mark during the cocoon stage, it forms a contractual bond with that creature. This grants the aberration a longer lifespan, a tougher exterior, greater destructive power, and unshakable loyalty to its contractor.

This is the qualitative change brought about by endless suffering.

—— 

Note:

Dog-like aberrations are highly unique. Regardless of their growth stage, they always leave a totem mark on their first owner.