Some closed beta players had also gradually received that silver card. Like Blake White, they had never filled in their address information on the official game website, yet the silver card was delivered precisely to their residence.

Blake White clicked into the Chinese post with the highest number of replies.

Original poster: Although in the era of big data people have almost no privacy, isn’t it a bit too much for the game officials to do this? If the officials don’t respond to the issue of how they obtained our addresses, I don’t mind taking legal action to defend my rights.

There was a chorus of agreement under this post.

But soon someone replied: I think there’s something off about this, it’s like a haunting. I live in the countryside, and deliveries only come every few days, but guess how my game card was delivered? My cat went out for a walk and inexplicably brought something back. When I took a look, I found it was my game card, with my real name and forum number written on it. That’s just freaking bizarre!

24th floor: I also live in the countryside. I found the card when I was collecting eggs in the chicken coop. It scared the hell out of me...

36th floor: I bought a home appliance online, and when I opened the packaging, I found an extra box inside. I thought it was a freebie from the seller, but it turned out to be the game card!

This wasn’t just bizarre, it was downright uncanny.

The numbers were assigned according to the order of forum registration, and making the cards takes time. How could it be that as soon as someone registers and gets a number, the card is immediately made and delivered? And the ways players received their cards were all over the place, with an inexplicable, eerie atmosphere enveloping everyone.

Blake White exited the post and clicked on a card-sharing thread.

The poster had censored their real name and player number on the card before showing it.

The card the poster shared was slightly different from Blake White’s card.

The front of the silver card in the post didn’t have the image of a mechanical hand, but instead a pair of scissors—a pair of scissors that looked extremely sharp.

Blake White’s card had the prefix “剥夺者” (“Depriver”), but the poster’s card had the prefix “代行者” (“Executor”), not “剥夺者”.

Why was this? What’s the difference between “剥夺者” and “代行者”?

Blake White frowned in thought.

After browsing the forum for a while, Blake White noticed something.

In all the card-sharing threads so far, the prefix on those cards was always “代行者”; not a single card, except hers, had “剥夺者”.

Blake White reached for the card by her bed. The card emitted a faint silver glow, with her real name and number engraved on it. It was like her ID card—her name and ID number were both there. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was the meaning of the word “剥夺者”.

Everything that happened that day left Blake White shrouded in confusion.

She glanced at the time: 23:59. Less than a minute to midnight, the official start of the closed beta. Blake White sighed, rubbed her temples in exhaustion, and got ready to sleep, since she had to look for a summer job to earn money the next day...

The life of a broke person is just that plain and dull.

The second before Blake White put down her phone, it suddenly vibrated. She looked closely and saw it was a forum announcement.

“Detected that all 10,000 closed beta players have completed registration. Game identity cards have been distributed.”

“This closed beta is a non-paid, non-wipe test. There are no shortcuts in the game. Please remember the six pieces of advice and explore your own ending.”

“We wish all players an enjoyable game. Now, the game begins.”

The game begins?!

Blake White was caught off guard by this message. She was stunned, and before she could react, she realized her surroundings had changed.

Her hand was suddenly empty—the weight of her phone vanished. She was no longer lying on her side in bed, but standing in boundless darkness, unable to see anything above her or hear any sound.

The old house with peeling walls was gone, the window faintly lit by the streetlamp had disappeared, the whirring of the fan was no more—everything had returned to silence.

Darkness wrapped around Blake White like a tide, swallowing her inch by inch. She instinctively tried to call for help, but like a drowning person, she couldn’t make a sound.

In the end, she lost consciousness.

……

“You have entered a new world.”

“Please check your identity settings in this world.”

“Name: Blake White

Faction: Federation · Resistance

Identity: Core member of the Mechanical Dawn organization, probationary patrol security officer of the Seventh Field Team, Federation Investigation Department, Federation’s most wanted criminal, undercover agent for the Resistance.

Mission: Steal confidential information from the Investigation Department, gain the trust of the Investigation Department, and provide intelligence support for Mechanical Dawn’s secret operations.”

A blurry electronic voice sounded in her ear. In a haze, she seemed to see lines of text flash before her eyes...

Blake White gasped in pain, feeling as if her head was about to split open.

It was as if an axe had cleaved her skull—her head hurt so much it felt like it would explode.

“Sutures.” A man beside her said, “Suture her wound. Give her another dose of the special painkiller—she can’t hold on much longer.”

Was she on an operating table? Blake White couldn’t open her eyes, but her consciousness, unexpectedly, remained clear.