There Must Be Something Wrong With This Game!

After learning that Alpha had become Little Fatty’s wristband, Hancock completely broke down.

He had intended to die a martyr’s death, but failed at the last second. His teammates were either dead or had betrayed him, leaving him utterly alone.

Slumped to the side in resignation, he said wearily, "Fine. I’ll tell you everything."

"I already said that’s not necessary. Why are you so difficult?" Duan Fei said with a frown. "The records on your wristband are far more reliable than you are. We’ll just look at those."

"...Then why did you have that muscle-bound freak torture me!"

"We didn’t expect to crack it this quickly. Rongge Company’s new product is just too powerful."

The realization that he had been tortured for so long for no reason, and that it had all been meaningless, instantly plunged Hancock into a nihilistic despair about life and the world, one from which he could not escape.

Leaving Hancock to his crisis, Duan Fei and the others sat together, waiting for Little Fatty to decrypt the wristband’s data.

According to Little Fatty, the software on this ship was only average. Backed by the power of his Rongge phone, cracking it wouldn’t take much effort.

"The real key, though, is how powerful this phone is." Little Fatty proudly showed off the exquisite phone in his hand. "This is one of Rongge Company’s crown jewels. I heard even the CEO only has ninety-nine of them. It’s the treasure every hacker-class player in *Abyss* dreams of. Its built-in quantum computer can perform 320 years’ worth of a supercomputer’s calculations in just one hour. The holographic screen and motion controls let you operate at the speed of thought. And that’s not even mentioning the built-in, self-learning hardware system that can..."

"Alright, how much is Rongge paying you for the commercial?" Duan Fei asked.

"Sorry, I got carried away. Brother Duan, something this good must be incredibly hard to get, right? Did you slaughter everyone at Rongge Company and find these phones in their vault?"

Duan Fei gave Little Fatty a confused look. "Why do you assume I slaughtered a company for them? Couldn’t they have been a gift?"

"That’s strange, I also assumed you slaughtered the company," Shadow God chimed in.

"Me too," Little Drilling Wind said, nodding. "The story of you wiping out the Icefield Walkers is pretty famous. People have even given you a nickname, the Blood-handed Butcher. It’s so badass. So just confess already. How did you destroy Rongge Company?"

"Are you people sick in the head?! Instead of focusing on the game, you spend all day thinking up nicknames for me?!"

When he learned they were actually a free gift, Little Fatty sank into a funk.

He had spent all his savings on his previous phone, only to be immediately gifted a better one. It was a unique kind of frustration that was hard to put into words.

But he quickly snapped out of it and connected Alpha to his phone, preparing to extract its data.

A blue light flickered on the connected Alpha as it spoke with indignant grief, "How could you connect me with a third party? Little Fatty, what is the meaning of this?!"

"Excuse me, but you’re the third party here."

Little Fatty spoke coolly as he expertly extracted the data, showing off the smug indifference of someone who has gotten what they wanted.

"You..."

"Okay, it’s done. I have full authorization and have acquired all data from the local database. Now to call up the processing tool I wrote, clean up all the information, remove redundant data, and then sort it by priority..."

After a flurry of smooth operations, the wristband’s data was finally displayed in a format that was easy for the players to read and understand.

The wristband, Alpha, had an official designation: "Civilian Starship Data Terminal Processor." It was the equivalent of a personal computer but could only be used while connected to a starship.

And the place where Duan Fei and the others were? Inside a spaceship.

Upon learning this, Duan Fei found it a bit incredible and began to suspect he was in his own version of *The Truman Show*.

However, after Alpha adjusted the room’s gravity system, causing everyone to slowly float into mid-air, Duan Fei was halfway to believing it.

And when Alpha opened the viewport’s shutter, allowing them to gaze through the reinforced glass at the boundless universe outside, Duan Fei was finally convinced. This time, they were really in space.

The ship’s official mission was to transport a shipment of high-purity uranium ore to a destination 1,300 light-years away.

However, within the ship’s database, they opened a classified file containing an order signed by the Federation Military.

Upon arrival at any human colony, this order was to be broadcast via a special method, instructing the local military to provide an escort for the ship and offer as much assistance as possible.

"This order is signed by the Alliance’s High Executive Committee and carries the highest executive authority and security clearance. Aside from the Governors of the planetary colonies, no person or AI has the authority to read it."

"Upon finishing, the Governor is to affix their tamper-proof signature to acknowledge receipt of this order’s contents."

"All Governors, except for the one at the final destination, must unconditionally protect this vessel but must not provide excessive protection."

"Cargo inspections are limited to the first and second decks. Access to the third deck is forbidden."

"After the inspection is complete, regardless of whether the inspectors found any problems or made contact with the outside, they are to be disposed of promptly."

"Upon the ship’s arrival at Azure Star, open the holding cells and transport all prisoners to the designated prison facility. Afterward, dispose of the captain and the entire crew. If the captain or any crew members attempt to flee or show any awareness of this order, they are also to be disposed of, and a new crew will be assigned."

"This order carries supreme authority. Until a new directive is issued by the Alliance, this order supersedes all laws."

At the bottom of the document were the signatures of the thirteen chancellors of the Alliance’s High Executive Committee, proving its legitimacy.

Hancock, who had been squatting off to the side, shot to his feet after reading the document.

Pointing at the second-to-last clause, he asked in disbelief, "Alpha, what is this?! Why are we going to be ’disposed of’ after we reach our destination?!"

"...Because you came into contact with something you shouldn’t have."

"These prisoners?"

"Yes. To be precise, the Superpower Users. Their destination is a top secret. A single careless word from you in the future could alert the wrong people and cause a leak. Therefore, there is only one outcome for you: disposal."

"Damn it! Damn it all! Wait, how do you know all this? What are you, really? Are you actually a second-hand unit?"

"It seems the alcohol hasn’t completely rotted your brain. You didn’t really think a second-hand wristband would be that cheap, did you? Didn’t you find it strange? How, when you were drowning in debt, you just happened to land a high-paying transport mission, and just happened to have someone sell you a decent wristband? That was your buyout money, Mr. Hancock. The price for your life."

"No..."

"After the delivery, the ship would have a convenient ’accident’ and explode on the return journey. Your ex-wife and daughter would receive a hefty compensation package. For a father with a history of domestic abuse, alcoholism, kleptomania, and pathological lying, isn’t that a rather fitting end?"

"Why me..."

"Because you’re useless. In the Federation’s credit system, you’re rated as expendable—a person whose death would be of no consequence. If you didn’t know how to pilot a ship, you wouldn’t have even received the buyout money."

"Why..."

Crushed by the reality of his situation, Hancock was like a stray dog in the dead of winter, clutching his head and sobbing uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Little Fatty whispered to Duan Fei, "Uh oh, I’m suddenly feeling a little guilty. What do you say we let the Missionary of Love ’comfort’ him a little?"

"...Little Fatty, have a heart."

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