The moment the Data Center doors swung open, a gust of cold air laden with stale dust hit us full-force—like opening the rack of a high-density server that hadn't been powered down in a decade.
Inside was no ruin, but a machine room frozen in time. Rows of black server racks towered toward the ceiling, their LED strips flickering weakly. Red and green indicator lights blinked like the heavy eyelids of a dying patient. The air carried a familiar scent: a cocktail of scorched circuit boards, static electricity, and aging plastic. Overhead, emergency lights emitted a low-frequency hum, twitching every few seconds like a struggling EKG.
We moved forward with calculated caution. Marcus cleared the path with his axe, Lin Xiao held her frying pan to her chest like a riot shield, and Zhang Jing walked in the center, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air as if flipping through an unseen ledger.
"The temperature is low," I whispered. "The server clusters are down-clocking. Probably to save power... or they're waiting for us."
Zhang Jing stopped abruptly, pushing up her glasses. "Wait."
She pointed to the side of the nearest rack. A yellowed piece of A4 paper was taped there—not a system-generated prompt, but a physical printout, its edges curled and the tape brittle with age.
I stepped closer, squinting under the strobe of the emergency lights to read the text. It was a handwritten annotation, scrawled yet precise:
Plaintext
// 2022-11-03 v0.7-alpha // Core loop is stable, but the Soul Point reclamation mechanism // has a high risk of memory leaks. // Temporary fix: Force a GC (Garbage Collection) after each // batch of player deaths. // NOTE: Don't let the players find out they are being "reclaimed." // —— The unlucky bastard writing this code, ID: dev_Alpha7 // P.S. If you're reading this comment, it means the System // hasn't deleted all of me yet. Don't trust the Overseers. // They used to be like you—now they just don't want to work overtime.
Reading it made my skin crawl. "...It was left by an original developer," my voice was raspy. "He knew. Soul Points are a reclamation mechanism."
Mia let out a sharp breath. "Reclamation... does that mean dead players' souls are being used as fuel for the System?"
Lin Xiao whispered, "Then we..."
Zhang Jing had already knelt, her finger tapping the edge of the paper as if auditing a voucher. "Wait, there are hidden logs here," she muttered. "I can see... parts that weren't displayed in the Overseer windows."
She closed her eyes for a moment. A translucent "Audit Log" interface materialized before her—a view only she could fully perceive.
"They really are former players," Zhang Jing opened her eyes. "Overseer-07's last personal log entry reads: 'Another dawn shift. The System says three more bugs and I'm unlinked... what a load of bullshit.'"
Marcus spat a curse. "So they hate this system too?"
"Not hate," Zhang Jing shook her head. "Just... exhausted. They just want to clock out."
I took a deep breath and carefully peeled the paper off, tucking it into my inventory. "Keep this. It might be a pivot point later."
As we ventured deeper, a low thrum echoed through the hall—not from hard drives, but from fans straining to rotate. We reached the Central Control Room, a glass-encased monitoring hub filled with dozens of screens. Some were still live.
I stepped inside, and my eyes immediately locked onto the main screen. It was partitioned into multiple sub-windows, each displaying a real-time feed:
In one, Player #00013, ranked first on the leaderboard, was atop a skyscraper facing off against a massive "Firewall Guardian," his HP bar plummeting.
In another, the Thorn Squad was camped outside a derelict factory. Thorn was snarling at a projection screen: "That brat Alex Chen leveled up again! Dammit!"
Other windows showed various territories: some were already breached, their Cores reduced to rubble; others were frantically building walls, huddling just like us.
"An intelligence hub..." Mia murmured. "The System is broadcasting every player's move right here."
Zhang Jing moved to the console, her fingers dancing across the interface. "There's a hierarchy of permissions," she said. "Normal players only see the public leaderboard. But a Core Admin... can see the 'Backend Logs'."
She took a breath and attempted an entry. A prompt flashed:
[Audit Permission Confirmed – Zhang Jing (Player)]
Access granted to partial Backend Logs (Non-Core Confidential)
Currently Queryable:
Soul Point Reclamation Statistics (Last 24h)
Total Technical Debt (Server-wide)
Beta Phase Player Survival Rate
She clicked on "Total Technical Debt."
Server-wide Cumulative Debt: 1872 entries
Player-generated: 412 entries
Overseer-patched: 1098 entries
Unprocessed High-Risk Debt: 362 entries (Includes your Core Overload)
Below that, a glaring red line:
High-Risk Debt Holder Ranking:
Alex Chen (#847291) – Debt Value: 19 → 3 (Decreased after Hot-Reload)
Thorn (#00412) – Debt Value: 28 (Multiple Malicious PKs)
...
I forced a bitter smile. "I'm actually top of the list."
Zhang Jing continued scrolling. "There's another comment... written by dev_Alpha7." She read it aloud:
Plaintext
// 2023-04-15 v1.2-beta // If players start reverse-engineering the Debt system, // it means they aren't satisfied with just "playing the game." // Let them play. Rules are static; people are dynamic. // —— If I live to see the launch day, I'll leave this comment in. // Don't delete me, System. I want to see the ending too.
The control room fell into a heavy silence.
Lin Xiao asked softly, "Is he... treating us as test subjects, or as successors?"
I didn't answer. I just stared at the screen showing Thorn. He was screaming at his followers, who hung their heads in silence. It seemed his territory wasn't doing much better than ours.
"He's struggling too," I said. "But he chose a different path: looting."
Marcus gripped his axe tighter. "And what about us?"
I looked at the largest window in the center of the main screen—it displayed a blank set of coordinates: [Unactivated Zone – Master Server Sector].
Below it, a small caption:
Access Requirement: Admin-level Debt Holder
Current Eligible Holder: Alex Chen (Debt Value > 0)
My pulse quickened. "Maybe... we can go take a look at the real 'Backend'."
Zhang Jing shook her head. "The risk is too high. There will be Guardian Processes there ten times stronger than any Zombie Process."
"But if we don't go," Mia countered, "we'll never know the truth about the Soul Points."
Lin Xiao raised her frying pan. "I'll... I'll cook the best buffs for you guys. If you go, I'm in."
I looked at the team. Three seconds of silence.
"Fine," I finally said. "But not now. First, we take everything we can from here."
We began scavenging the control room. Under the main console, I found a small storage module containing several new Code Fragments:
[Garbage Collection Fragment x2]
[Privilege Escalation Fragment x1] (Temporary boost to System query permissions)
[Firewall Patch x1] (Can be used to reinforce territory defense)
Zhang Jing found a critical entry in the log section:
Soul Point Reclamation Mechanism:
Each player death reclaims 10-50 points (Level-dependent).
Reclaimed points used to maintain Beta Server stability.
Estimated Beta End Time: Unknown.
If surviving player count < 100, System will force "Reclamation Mode."
I burned that information into my memory.
Before leaving, I took one last look at Thorn on the main screen. He suddenly looked up, as if sensing a gaze, his eyes locking directly with the camera.
"Alex Chen..." his voice rasped through the speakers, "Next time we meet, I'm taking your Core."
The screen went black.
We exited the control room, the hum of the servers growing louder behind us—like a warning. The mist had largely dissipated; it was full daylight.
On the way back, I spoke quietly to the team. "That 72-hour overclocking ultimate... it's a double-edged sword. Next time we use it, we might face the full 3% corruption penalty immediately."
Marcus nodded. "Then we don't use it unless we have to."
"But if Thorn comes back," Zhang Jing added, "we might not have a choice."
Lin Xiao asked in a small voice, "Can we... can we actually win?"
I looked ahead at the silhouette of Dawn Station appearing on the horizon.
"I don't know if we can win," I said. "But at least we've started changing the code."
Behind us, the doors of the Data Center slid shut with a heavy thud. Inside, there seemed to be a faint, low sigh.
It wasn't an Overseer. It was that guy, dev_Alpha7.
Waiting for the ending.
[To be continued...]