Lord: Sequence Master

A dim kerosene lamp illuminated the filthy room, startling a few rats into scurrying away.

John, the drunkard, groggy from alcohol, fumbled for a piece of bread and quickly devoured it before collapsing onto his bed. He soon drifted into a deep sleep. However, it wasn't long before the cold jolted him awake.

His body felt sticky, and before him stood a safe, upon which sat a candle and a tape recorder. His first thought was that this must be a prank orchestrated by his drinking buddies. How else could he explain waking up in such a strange place?

John picked up the tape recorder, which looked different from the ones he had seen in stores. It lacked the familiar slots for embedding incandescent shadow stones that converted heat into electricity. If not for the transparent casing showing the tape inside, he might not have recognized it as a tape recorder at all.

He pressed the first button, and the tape began to play.

"John, you were born into a modest mining family. Your parents loved you dearly. Though they couldn't give you a life of luxury, they never let you go hungry. They gave you everything they could—bought you a house, found you a job, even helped you start a family..."

"But you were never satisfied. You complained endlessly and eventually became a hopeless drunk."

"When your parents were gravely ill, you were passed out drunk on the streets. When your wife and child went hungry, you spent the family's last money at the bar. When your child was burning with fever, you stole the money your wife borrowed for his treatment."

"Now, let's see how much you still love drinking when faced with death..."

"You've been injected with a slow-acting poison. The antidote and the key to your escape are inside the safe. Your body is coated with a mixture of glue and alcohol, and the floor is covered in broken glass. One of the shards holds the combination to the safe."

"I've left more candles scattered among the glass. If I were you, I'd use them wisely."

John, stunned, set down the tape recorder. His body trembled as he glanced at the candle and match atop the safe.

This was no prank—no one would go to such dangerous lengths for a joke.

As the candle flickered, John snapped back to reality and began searching the floor, which was littered with shards of broken glass. The dim light from the candle only illuminated a small area. After scouring the immediate vicinity and finding no password, he carefully moved the candle to search elsewhere. Each step he took drove shards of glass deeper into his feet, sending waves of agonizing pain through his body.

Some pieces of glass could be picked up, but most were embedded in the cement floor, forcing John to tread on the jagged shards. Despite the excruciating pain, he continued searching for the combination or more candles. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, but the increasing pain in his abdomen reminded him that the poison was slowly taking effect.

John didn't know how long he had been searching. His feet were bleeding profusely, his vision blurred, and his breath came in labored gasps. Finally, his hand slipped, and he dropped the candle. In an instant, the flame ignited the alcohol coating his body, transforming him into a human torch.

John's agonized screams echoed throughout the small room as he thrashed on the floor, only worsening his injuries.

Though the flames engulfed him, the glue and alcohol on his body were limited, so he didn't die instantly. However, his entire body was covered in burns, and his movements became uncontrollable. Glass shards pierced his flesh as he lay on the cold, quiet floor, fully aware of the last drop of blood draining from his body.

When John woke up again, drenched in cold sweat, he rolled out of bed.

It was as if he had just experienced a nightmare, but the details eluded him upon waking.

As he struggled to remember the dream, his eyes landed on a bottle of liquor on the nearby table. Instinctively, he reached for it and took a few gulps to calm his nerves. But as soon as the alcohol touched his lips, burn scars and glass shards reappeared all over his body.

In that instant, John remembered the nightmare—but it was too late. He realized, in horror, that he was about to relive his death once more.

Meanwhile, Rosen, seated in front of the Main God computer, witnessed John's death in the real world.

What had been intended as a mental nightmare, experienced in the virtual realm, had somehow led to John's actual death in reality.

This discovery shocked Rosen, making him realize that the virtual realm contained secrets he had not yet uncovered.

He immediately checked the experiences of others in the virtual realm. If the realm caused mass deaths among participants, Rosen knew he would be in serious trouble. Fortunately, after reviewing several more cases, his initial panic subsided.

The Saw virtual realm seemed to have two distinct modes for those who entered.

For people who lived decent lives and weren't bad individuals, the virtual realm acted like a bad dream. They would wake up without recalling the specific details of their experience.

However, for people like John, who had led disgraceful lives, the virtual realm put them through a trial of the soul.

Had John resisted the temptation of alcohol and shown a willingness to change, he would have survived the nightmare unscathed. But his reckless behavior triggered a spiritual key within him, manifesting the suffering, terror, and death he endured in the virtual realm into reality.

Rosen realized that several of the 148,320 static images had permanently disappeared.

Curious, he opened the personal status screen on the Main God computer and checked the detailed attributes of the Saw virtual realm. To his surprise, it had developed far faster than he had anticipated.

It seemed that people like John—whose spiritual energy and even their souls were absorbed by the virtual realm—had significantly accelerated its growth.

Initially, Rosen felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn't intended for the virtual realm to cause actual deaths.

But he quickly adjusted his mindset. Despite inheriting young Rosen's memories, he wasn't truly him. This world still felt foreign, and in a way, someone like John was no different from an NPC in a game to him.

Moreover, he hadn't witnessed John's death firsthand; it was just a scene on a screen, like watching a flat movie. Rosen had not experienced the full immersion of being in the virtual realm, so emotional detachment came easily.

In fact, he even felt a strange thrill coursing through him, quickening his heartbeat.

(End of Chapter)