Chapter Index

    At Sunset Ruins, rolling yellow clouds piled layer upon layer on the horizon; the sky-piercing Babylon Tower stood stark against the sky. Amid broken walls and beneath a golden giant tree, players in varied outfits gathered before the record stele.

    Lately the situation in the Bizarre Game had turned treacherous; in those shifting clouds most people could not see the truth. All they could do was rely on past experience and unreliable intuition to guess what came next.

    Some firmly believed an upheaval even greater than the Twilight of the Gods twenty-two years ago was coming. Realizing they possessed neither identity plaques nor exclusive skills, they feared they would become mere fodder beneath the pyramid. Their panic infected everyone around them.

    Others stayed optimistic, convinced the shadow of the Bizarre Game would end in the rumored final instance. When the sky fell, the big guilds would hold it up; ordinary folk only needed to hide in a corner. Whatever the outcome, they would survive and keep muddling along.

    Still others, self-proclaimed veterans, recalled the many “joint guild operations” of the past twenty-two years that had threatened much but delivered little. They assumed the present tension was another feint: the bigger the hope, the bigger the disappointment.

    Even so, almost everyone secretly sought news about the Bizarre Game.

    In an age of strife and chaos, information often meant survival. In a narrow encounter, no one knew which scrap of knowledge might save their life.

    Unfortunately, the game forum was still reeling from the backlash against the Kyushu Guild. With no one moderating, good and bad information mixed; finding a useful clue was like panning for gold in sewage.

    Players could only come to the Sunset Ruins stele and start from scratch as armchair analysts, poring over each refreshed ranking and real-time message.

    With a broadcast that resounded across the plaza, chiseled marks carved the latest clear record at the very top of the stele.

    【’Beware the Rabbit’ instance True End — ‘Fatalism’ has been unlocked】

    【Unlocked by: Si Qi】

    【The ‘Beware the Rabbit’ instance has been permanently closed due to force majeure】

    【Final clear: Si Qi】

    Many present had not bothered watching the livestream, yet they knew the notorious name’Si Qi’. Now they buzzed with discussion.

    “Si Qi again—worthy of rank one on the rookie list. If I count right, this is his seventh True End clear, out of only a handful of instances he’s run.”

    “His momentum’s insane—blew up another instance. We crawl from start to finish; he bulldozes through. No wonder Kyushu can’t sit still and wants him dead.”

    “Honestly, the Unnamed Guild feels chosen by fate. In troubled times heroes rise—rookies and new factions thriving under old-guild pressure. You could write a novel!”

    Many players viewed the Unnamed Guild positively—not just because of its recent publicity in the ‘Beast Arena’ livestream, but because they saw themselves in it.

    From obscurity to fame, challenging the old rules head-on, bursting through encirclement under pressure and standing tall at Sunset Ruins—they did what countless others only dreamed of!

    Most of them, accustomed to mediocrity or afraid of failure and risk, had survived by following Kyushu’s rails since entering the Bizarre Game, never imagining another path.

    Now the Unnamed Guild laid an alternative road before them, bumpy but brilliant.

    They couldn’t help wondering: if a rookie could shake the world, could they, too, choose differently?

    Just then, viewers of the livestream returned to Sunset Ruins, believing they knew more and therefore mattered more, adding details in a clamor.

    “You guys didn’t see Si Qi’s plays. He not only peeled the instance’s core setting layer by layer but led the main NPC Lu Ming by the nose. I felt I’d cleared a fake ‘Beware the Rabbit’ before.”

    “His moves were silky smooth. Watching him, I swear he’s the type most suited to the Bizarre Game—on par with Fu Jue. I’ll bet his clear video becomes the year’s hottest.”

    “Clear video? Don’t you know Si Qi never uploads clears? He hasn’t posted a single one from his seven previous instances.”

    “Anyone else as unlucky as me? I saw him collect all the corpses and staked 2,000 points on the Normal End—who’d have thought he’d actually hit True End…”

    Some rejoiced, some lamented: while some happily debated details of ‘Beware the Rabbit’, others rued betting on the wrong outcome.

    Everyone felt it so viscerally it might as well have been they who cleared the instance—or at least witnessed it firsthand.

    “Look! What’s happening to the stele?” A young player suddenly pointed at the taller slab beside the record stele, face stunned.

    “A rank changed, or Si Qi’s name dropped?” a nearby player shrugged. “Why the fuss? When someone’s too strong for the rookie list they graduate to the overall ranks—there’s precedent…”

    He trailed off mid-mutter, the same astonishment slowly overtaking his face.

    More and more players noticed the anomaly. Countless hairline cracks spread from every edge toward the center, weaving into a dense web.

    Under the cracks each line of names faded, as if rasped away by an invisible file. Gray-white powder drifted off in the wind, the letters dissolving into nothing.

    In an instant both the rookie list and the overall power rankings shattered without a sound—no scrape, no echo—collapsing inward and crumbling apart at just the right angles.

    The broken stones hovered and scattered overhead, forming a rain of shards above Sunset Ruins. Clusters of gray shadows flickered across the ground and the players’ faces like decorative lights.

    In unison everyone tilted their heads, frozen in the same pose, eyes fixed as the stones shifted, arranged, and recombined—fitting together perfectly like a puzzle.

    Before the crowd a far larger stele took shape, descending silently to stand before the golden tree where the original two had been.

    On the newborn monolith no other names appeared—only twenty-two lines of script in an unknown tongue. On each player’s interface the text translated itself:

    【0. Rule —???】

    【1. Lord of Gods — Qi】

    【2. Lord of Time-Space — Li】

    【3. Lord of Vitality — Huo】

    【4. Sovereign of Souls —???】

    【5. Sovereign of Fate —???】

    【6. Sovereign of Death —???】

    【7. Autocrat with Closed Eyes — Puppeteer】

    【8. Dream Orator — White Crow】

    【9. Fallen Savior — Fu Jue】

    【10. Fool Trickster — Zhou Ke】

    【11. Dark Arbiter — Lin Jue】

    【12. Doomsday Prophet — Xiao Fengchao】

    【13. Scarlet High Priest — Si Qi】

    【14. Calamity High Priest — Alexei Olegovich】

    【15. Immortal Witch Priest — Li Yunyang】

    【16. Humanoid Evil — Qi Si】

    【17. Taboo Scholar — Asakura Yuko】

    【18. Undead Shepherd — Lin Chen】

    【19. Beak Doctor — Lin Wuya】

    【20. Despair Playwright — Charlie Woodward】

    【21. Sin —???】

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