True Apocalypse Game

Jingwei couldn’t help but roll her eyes. ’This kid is ruthless—not just to himself, but to others, and especially to his enemies. What a psycho!’

’At least he’s a psycho on our side...’

Then, she spoke again:

"This whole ’Commander’ title is somewhat interesting, but they still don’t fully trust you. If they did, they wouldn’t have limited your command to just inside the game. You primates truly are a suspicious bunch of creatures."

The corner of Shen Feng’s mouth quirked up. He flopped right onto the thick, grassy meadow, propped his head on his arms, and watched the clouds drift across the virtual sky as he spoke slowly.

"Is it really just in the game, though? What you said just reminded me of a certain interesting primate..."

Jingwei lay down as well, her eyes narrowing in comfort. She remarked casually,

"What interesting primate? I know some interesting birds. Anyway, what are you going to do next? I think you need to rest."

The players had spent over ten real-world days inside the game, and for most of that time, Shen Feng and Jingwei’s consciousnesses had been immersed in it as well.

While the players observed the game, they, as the game’s core, were observing the players.

For one thing, they had to identify any potential sleeper agents who had been infiltrated by the Whisperers.

They would run extensive simulations and analyses on any player’s unusual actions until they were certain that person posed no significant threat.

And when missions proved too difficult, they sometimes had to secretly give the players a little boost to prevent them from failing completely.

The in-game NPCs had low-level AI and also required meticulous management.

As a result, the drain on their Spiritual Power over this period had been immense. In layman’s terms, it was mentally exhausting.

Now that this phase was finally over, Shen Feng could get some much-needed rest.

"Yes, I’ll rest for a few days," Shen Feng nodded. "And see a therapist."

...

「Eagle Country CIA Headquarters, Director’s Office.」

Nick sat at his desk, staring at the blank computer screen and the eye-shaped icon that had now turned gray. A profound sense of loss suddenly washed over him.

’It’s over... just like that?’

’The post-nuclear-war mission... we actually succeeded?’

’The mysterious developer showed up for just a moment, dropped some information, and then vanished?’

After battling in the game for over ten days, its abrupt end left Nick feeling deeply disoriented.

Leaning back in his chair, dark circles ringing his eyes, Nick heaved a long sigh.

’He never imagined that he, a veteran intelligence officer who prided himself on his logic and composure, would one day get hooked on a game.’

’No, this shouldn’t even be called a game.’

’It’s a reality simulation software.’

’A detailed, powerful, and terrifyingly interactive reality simulation software.’

And he was certain the developer had been there the entire time, secretly observing them.

Time in the game sped up and slowed down. Sometimes a year would pass in just a few real-world minutes, while at other times the flow of time was identical to reality. The transitions were seamless, without the slightest jarring sensation. Such delicate control was definitely beyond what a pre-programmed system could handle.

’Who on earth is the developer?’

Based on the developer’s words and actions, Nick felt he was completely unable to make any meaningful judgment.

However, he also had a nagging feeling that the developer was backed by an extremely powerful technical team—a highly mysterious organization.

He rubbed his weary face, got up to take a shower in his private bathroom, and then returned to his office to resume his contemplation.

’Whisperers...’

’Such a being... it sounded entirely supernatural. It was like something out of the ravings of charlatan mystics, some so-called Divine Spirit or demon.’

And yet, Nick didn’t doubt the existence of the Whisperers in the slightest.

Even as he questioned the developer’s identity, he never questioned the existence of the Whisperers.

The reason was simple: if the developer had wanted to deceive them, they wouldn’t have chosen such a clumsy lie, something that sounded like nonsensical rambling.

Claiming that Nazi remnants were hiding in a hollow earth preparing a counteroffensive would have been more believable.

Therefore, the more impossible it seemed, the more likely it was to be true!

Nick turned on the computer connected to the CIA’s internal network, went straight to the internal database, and began searching for case files and archives on the Petrification Disease pandemic.

As the intelligence agency for the North American Eagle Country—the nation hit hardest by the Petrification Disease outbreak—the CIA had collected a vast amount of related data, including, but not limited to, top-secret files.

He enabled fast-scan mode and began to fly through the cases. He started with the detailed files of the first Arctic research expedition members, then moved on to the relevant personnel from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) who had handled the initial outbreak.

There were over a hundred thousand patients, but Nick ignored the ordinary civilians, focusing only on the files of personnel with strong connections to the case.

The files scrolled past on the screen, a waterfall of data.

Despite the dark circles under his eyes and the bloodshot veins in them, Nick didn’t blink once, his mind racing.

Suddenly, Nick’s hand shot out and clicked the mouse. The screen froze, stopping on a single file.

Edith, Assistant to the Director of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).

The initiator of Operation Dujuan at the Arctic Stone Statue Ruins, and the project’s main proponent.

Due to the Petrification Disease outbreak, Edith had supposedly committed suicide out of guilt and fear of reprisal, cutting short what had been a very promising career.

Nick frowned as he looked at Edith’s photograph in the file.

In the photo, Edith’s lips were pursed in a slight sneer, his eyes holding a flippant expression. Nick was an expert judge of character; he could tell at a glance that this guy was bad news.

He immediately picked up the phone, dialed a number, and said,

"File designation SJFHNOAAS8736. Run a deep data scrub."

Then, he hung up.

Barely ten minutes later, a "DING" sounded from the internal system as a new file on Edith popped up.

This file had been compiled by Nick’s subordinates using big data analysis. It aggregated personal information scraped from social media platforms, early police data, and intel from the Ling Mirror program.

It was, in a manner of speaking, Edith’s hidden side—his dark side.

As soon as Nick opened the file, he was confronted with a portrait of Edith that was completely at odds with his polished public image.

Though an Ivy League School graduate, he had been involved in selling illegal substances in college.

He was a frequent drug user and gambler, bisexual, and at one point had been buried in gambling debt.

After starting his career, his private life remained dissolute. He abused his power to solicit massive bribes, had inappropriate relations with multiple male and female subordinates, and even traveled to Southeast Asian countries on several occasions to solicit child prostitutes.

He pushed for the exploration of the Arctic Stone Statue Ruins under the guise of national interest, accepting a bribe of several hundred thousand dollars from the exploration and salvage equipment company.

The very morning of his "suicide," he was on a social media app arranging a one-night stand with a young wife.

He even used an alt account on social media to publicly mock Jason, the captain of the Oceanus exploration team who had died from the Petrification Disease.

A two-faced, scumbag, bastard.

’A person like that would kill himself out of guilt?’

’What a joke.’

Nick then read a colleague’s statement describing Edith’s mood on the day of his "suicide." He had been in good spirits that morning, but his mood had suddenly soured in the afternoon.

And just before his suicide, he had received a phone call...

’A phone call...’

Nick took a deep breath. He had reached his conclusion.

’The Whisperers are real.’

’The developer wasn’t lying.’

’Everything he said was true.’

"KNOCK KNOCK..." There was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

His secretary entered cautiously, a stack of files in her hand. She placed them on Nick’s desk, stealing a glance at her boss.

Lately, Nick’s terrible condition was plain to see, and his temper was short. She was genuinely worried this file would set him off.

’It was just a minor matter of a name change, after all.’

Nick casually picked up the top document and glanced at it. His breath caught, and his heart clenched.

"Report on the Upgrade and Renaming of the Zeus Intelligent Combat Command System to the Poseidon Intelligent Combat Command System"