Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Watching Calrens leave the therapy room, Lann wiped the cold sweat from his brow, relieved to have fooled him.

Heaven knows the pressure he felt as an ordinary person facing a gang boss, especially knowing that Calrens had originally planned to kidnap him.

In this case, he had the players to thank for inadvertently avoiding an unwarranted disaster.

With this in mind, Lann sighed deeply. Although he knew Arkham was not particularly safe, he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Just the day before yesterday, he had been at the police station, and today the gang had received information that he had been interrogating someone and immediately sought revenge.

Could they have someone inside the police station?

Feeling uneasy, Lann quickly called Albert for help, only to discover unexpectedly that Albert was out of town on a case in the countryside near Arkham and wouldn't be back for about a week.

Hisss — Albert had just left, and the gang had already come knocking. This was practically announcing they had insiders in the police!

"What about Dr. Archi?" Lann asked, not giving up hope.

"Dr. Archi went with him. I'll call you as soon as they're back," came the reply.

"Alright, thank you."

After hanging up, Lann sighed. Of all times, it had to be now.

He was just an ordinary man, powerless to deal with the gangs.

It seemed he couldn't yet clear up Calrens' misunderstanding. He had come to understand the dynamics of this city: the police force was very limited here, struggling to handle even one captured gang member. The gangs, especially Black Poker, carried significant weight in the city, daring to defy the police and brazenly kidnap innocent citizens.

But they would be wary of the mystical and religious, for those are even more irrational than they are.

Besides, this city is haunted by numerous anomalies invisible to ordinary people.

This city is simply too dangerous.

Lann once again sighed, resolving to leave this place as soon as he had saved enough money.

For now, he just hoped to keep Calrens in the dark for a week until Albert returned, making sure Calrens didn't realize he was not an evil god, and the players weren't his followers.

Keeping up his own facade wasn't too difficult; he just needed to avoid giving himself away. But he was unsure about the players, whose unpredictable thoughts and actions were beyond normal understanding. They might inadvertently expose him at any moment...

Lann, harboring some unease, made sure to keep an eye on the players' movements by regularly checking forum posts.

[Whining] I knew it, Lann's faction has finally shown up.

[The new quest-giving NPC, Calrens! He looks kind of fierce. Could he be involved with the mafia? Hahaha]

You guessed right, he is indeed part of the mafia. 🙂

[Doesn't matter, as long as he gives out quests. Lann's quests are really scarce, but the rewards for his investigation tasks are pretty good. I even saw someone flaunt a crowbar, so jealous qwq]

Hmm… that's true.

Since Lann wasn't part of the Arkham era initially, he remembers only a few quest clues, and most of the ones he recalls are from the early stages with good rewards.

Unfortunately, these items are of little use to Lann, who aspires to live an ordinary life in this world. Thus, giving out quest clues to players doesn't burden him.

Thinking about it, Lann could reserve the more rewarding tasks for certain players who were good at boosting his favorability.

Lann mused, the favorability system is one of the few functions that can motivate players to take action. Perhaps he should make good use of it.

[Anyone forming a team for the villa haunted house? Got a clue from Calrens.]

[Count me in, we need three more.]

[Heh, you're too late. Our team has already completed the haunted house quest in the Arkham outskirts. Gained +3 Strength points, and the cursed item has been dealt with.]

[Ah, damn, the downside of getting clues from Calrens is he doesn't give them exclusively to one person orz.]

From the posts made by players, it's clear that Calrens had indeed followed Lann's request. Now, a significant portion of players had received tasks and officially started their investigator careers, with various live-streamed investigation posts emerging daily.

These posts have a high average viewership. Unlike traditional games, this game's tasks generally don’t offer repeatable quests unless the previous player fails, making each mission a potential 'exclusive record.'

Moreover, every consequence caused by the players is accurately recorded in the progression of this world and may even affect subsequent quest lines. It's this sense of realism that makes the game a hot topic among players.

After browsing a few posts and finding nothing unusual, Lann was slightly relieved. It seems he can hold out a bit longer…

Meanwhile, inside Black Poker

Calrens was in the boss's office, having a secret conversation that involved just the two of them.

The leader of Black Poker, now 40 years old, wasn't young anymore. Having weathered many storms in this city, he had developed a calm demeanor, unshaken even in the face of great upheaval, believing there was little news that could surprise him.

However, when Calrens explained the whole situation from start to finish, revealing how Black Poker had nearly offended a being suspected to be a ‘god,’ even he couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat.

The leader's extensive experience made him acutely aware of the depth of Arkham's mysteries. Some entities were so perilous that even Black Poker dared not touch them, for doing so could spell their doom.

"Are you certain He is..." The Black Poker leader's face was grave. "This is no joking matter. Such beings are supposed to be indescribable and terrifying, not easily descending into our world."

As the leader of Black Poker, he had his own sources of information and knew some of the unwritten rules of the mystical world. If those so-called 'deities' could descend so easily, the world would have been in chaos long ago.

"I am certain. I heard it directly from the mouth of His follower," Calrens respectfully replied, "With their level of devotion, it's impossible for them to refer to any entity other than their deity as 'god.'"

"That does make sense." A very convincing argument.

"From our investigations, Lann, their god, appears to be in some restricted state, which is why He disguises Himself in human society. After all, if He were to appear in His full form, it would likely attract much more attention, even from the Inspection Bureau."

Black Poker nodded, "So, what do you think our approach should be towards this new organization? Should we maintain our usual stance of non-interference?"

"No, I believe... we cannot remain uninvolved this time," Calrens hesitated before saying, "This faction is different from those we've encountered before. They've only recently arrived in Arkham but seem prepared to establish dominance here. The evidence is their active investigation and elimination of all elements related to the bizarre."

Since passing the information to this group, Calrens had been closely monitoring the players and was well aware of their actions.

They seemed utterly oblivious to danger, repeatedly venturing into the most hazardous places, disregarding their own and others' lives.

No, even if they were aware, they probably didn't care. As long as it was for their 'god', these fanatics would likely pay any price.

Calrens remembered a scene he had witnessed when he had sent a spy to follow them.

Even when their own companions lay dead beside them, these people could indifferently loot the bodies, then continue on their way, laughing and cursing, as leisurely as if they were on a picnic.

This abnormality made him deeply uncomfortable and further solidified his speculations.

These followers were indeed not in their right minds.

Moreover, the purpose of this cult is indeed to eliminate any power that could threaten them. That's why they harshly wiped out the bizarre incidents around them to flex their muscles and take control of the discourse in Arkham's inner world.

This also means that the stable situation in Arkham is about to be disrupted again.

“So, what do you suggest?” the leader of the Black Spades asked Clarence. He knew that Clarence wouldn't have come to him, especially after sending the other executives away, just to report the emergence of a new religious group in Arkham.

“I believe this is the best opportunity for Black Spades to rise,” Clarence said through clenched teeth, sharing his thoughts. “They have just arrived in Arkham and are not yet firmly established, but they have already shown their ambition. We, the Black Spades, with our deep roots in Arkham and advantage in intelligence and channels, will undoubtedly be sought after for our help.”

The leader of the Black Spades was slightly taken aback, not so much by the cleverness of Clarence’s strategy, but rather by his audacity.

“Do you understand what you’re suggesting? Have you forgotten how difficult these people are to deal with? Aren’t you afraid they might turn their wrath on the Black Spades at any moment?”

“I know, but I think they are different,” Clarence thought back to recent events.

The moment his ruse was exposed, Clarence had braced himself for death, but unexpectedly, he was let off lightly, the price being just some information.

From then on, Clarence realized that this religious organization was much milder than he had anticipated.

Maybe they needed him, and the only useful thing Clarence could think of that he could offer them was the Black Spades’ connections and intelligence.

And observing the players over time, he believed... there might indeed be a possibility for cooperation.

Up to now, they had been wary of other religious groups in Arkham mainly because those fanatics were too irrational and unpredictable – one wrong word could lead to annihilation, making normal communication nearly impossible. However, Clarence’s recent observations and understanding of the players showed that although they too were unafraid of death and often acted incomprehensibly, they were mostly approachable and communicative.

This gave birth to the idea of cooperation.

“I believe this is an opportunity for Black Spades to formally step into the inner world,” Clarence said seriously. “If we miss this chance... to those people, we will always remain ants that can be crushed at any moment.”

Beneath the extraordinary, all are but ants.

Clarence had understood the cruelty of this saying quite early. Despite Black Spades’ dominance in Arkham’s underworld, everyone knew that the truly terrifying entities in the inner world were those wielding mystery and power.

They were like unpredictable natural disasters, devoid of reason. Even a brush with the storm's edge could spell doom for Black Spades.

He didn’t want to lament his fate among ruins when real destruction came. Even becoming a vassal to some religious organization was better than being easily squashed like an ant.

The leader of Black Spades fell into silence.

“Boss!” Clarence couldn’t help but urge.

“The time isn’t right,” the leader of Black Spades, sweat beading on his forehead, rubbed his temple, his wrinkled eyes reflecting a weathered sharpness, “This religious organization… hasn't shown enough power to attract my bet yet.”

“Aren’t the gods and those mad followers enough?” Clarence asked, puzzled.

“Not enough! Gods don't easily intervene; they don't care about humans. Moreover, if He is as restrained as you say,” the leader seemed lost in memories, his expression gradually becoming fierce, a mix of longing and ingrained fear.

“Ah, Clarence, my child, I’ve lived 20 years longer than you, so I know what truly terrifying entities these organizations harbor… They are the real enforcers of God's will, His proxies on Earth. Blessed by Him, they possess supreme power, unwavering faith, and a quietly burning madness. Once you’ve encountered such beings, you’d never think of opposing them.”

Clarence involuntarily swallowed: “They are...?”

“We usually call such beings... disciples!”

Leaving the leader’s office, Black Spades’ boss, Joel, couldn’t help but pick up the dossier again and again, his actions unintentionally revealing his inner hesitation.

He was unsure whether to take this gamble. Cooperating with those entities was both an opportunity and a crisis, a slight misstep could turn everything into nothingness, the painful lesson from ‘Green Steed’ five years ago was still vivid in his mind.

“How’s the thinking going?”

Suddenly, a strange voice echoed close to Joel’s ear.

Goosebumps instantly formed on Joel’s arm. Startled, he screamed, his body, along with the chair, falling to the ground with a loud noise, his arms flailing on the desk, eyes fixated on the person who had appeared in his office.

The man had black shoulder-length hair and dark eyes, a delicately handsome face with a smile that lacked any warmth, resembling a puppet wearing a smiling mask, exuding an inhuman eeriness.

He spoke gently, "Have you found the position of your gun? Making a noise was smart, but unfortunately, your bodyguards outside probably can't hear it."

Joel swallowed hard, instinctively gripping his only source of strength - a revolver - but soon he let go, asking with a wry smile, "When did you come in?"

"Since your subordinate came in to report."

"If we knew a distinguished guest like you was coming, we would have welcomed you with the highest honors," Joel said, standing up with the support of the desk, "May I know the purpose of your visit?"

"Of course, I'm here to offer you an opportunity," the man said softly, his words like a serpent from Eden tempting Eve, "You’re hesitating whether to agree to your subordinate's proposal, to collaborate with that mysterious entity. Though you call it collaboration, you know better than anyone that it’s really becoming a vassal, because you lack power. Black Spades’ connections and tactics are like sandcastles on a beach in the face of truly overwhelming force. You don’t want your hard work to become someone else’s wedding dress."

Joel’s fingers on the desk trembled slightly.

This was a reaction to having his thoughts exposed; his gaze at the man shifted from wariness to fear of being seen through.

"You mean..."

"I'll give you the chance, but I want you to..." the mysterious man smiled, "kill Lan En."

Joel’s legs gave way, and he fell to the floor.

You might as well kill me instead.

"Of course, I'll provide you with assistance."

Joel didn't speak, staring at the man, then smiled bitterly after a while, "It seems I've become entangled in a considerable conspiracy? Do you really need us ordinary people to be pawns in your mysterious world's affairs?"

"Oh? Do you want to know?" The man's smile remained gentle, as if he would answer anything Joel asked.

Joel wisely chose to remain silent.

"Then I'll leave it to you to think of a way. My name is Amos. I believe we will be working together for a while."

"Okay, okay," Joel said, his face covered in cold sweat.

Suddenly, a phone rang in the room. Joel, as if granted a reprieve, focused intently on Amos's actions while his fingers slowly crept towards his pocket. If he could just get to his phone, if he could just call for help outside...

“Sorry, that’s my phone,” Amos said, pulling out his phone and answering, “Hello? Master? Yes, I'm here...”

He glanced at Joel, then his figure vanished on the spot.

When he reappeared, he was in an alley.

“Yes, I can talk freely,” the man said softly, “The plan is going smoothly, don’t worry. I've already selected a suitable force for probing.”

“Good, you never disappoint me, Amos,” the voice on the other end said with satisfaction, “Until we’re certain Lan En is the ‘Door’ we're looking for, we absolutely cannot expose our organization.”

“I remember,” Amos curled his lips slightly, “I assure you that in the near future, you will achieve your grand ambition.”

“The foreigners return to their roots, back to their homeland.”

There was a brief silence on the other end: “Amos.”

“I'm here.”

“You've never said this was our deep-seated wish. You always say ‘yours’.”

“Yes, I'm not interested in returning to the homeland,” Amos said with a smile, “My only desire is to help you, to watch you fulfill your grand ambition.”

“That's for the best.”

Without waiting for Amos to respond, the call was abruptly ended.

Amos, listening to the dial tone, shrugged helplessly: “Still so vigilant.”

It's disheartening. Did he do something wrong recently? Amos thought, slightly troubled, pressing down on his upturned lips. No, perhaps he did too well, and that’s why the Master became suspicious.

But he genuinely wanted to help the Master achieve his grand ambition.

After all, every gardener knows that flowers should be plucked at their most beautiful bloom, right?