# Chapter 3: System Errors and Strange News
Xìng Huáng's heart hammered against his ribs as he vaulted over a fallen crimson log, the mechanical voices of his pursuers growing fainter but never quite disappearing. His movement buffs had bought him some distance, but whatever those synchronized entities were, they moved with an unnatural persistence that suggested they weren't bound by normal stamina limitations.
He ducked behind a cluster of twisted trees and forced himself to think strategically. Running blindly wouldn't solve anything—he needed information, and he needed to understand what was happening to the game systems.
Opening his inventory, he examined the three Crimson Essence Fragments he'd collected. Unlike normal items, these seemed to pulse with their own internal light, casting faint red shadows even through the interface window. When he tried to stack them, they refused to combine, each one maintaining its individual existence as if they were somehow... alive.
*Divine Greed Trait Activated,* appeared in his peripheral vision, though he hadn't killed anything recently. The message flickered, repeating every few seconds like a stuck record.
"What are you trying to tell me?" he whispered to his character sheet.
The countdown timer had decreased to 22:31:07. Still no indication of what would happen when it reached zero, but the steady decrease felt ominous. He tried accessing the game's forums through the built-in browser, hoping to find reports from other players experiencing similar issues.
The forum loaded, but the content was... wrong.
Instead of the usual player discussions about builds and strategies, the most recent posts were filled with incomprehensible text:
*"The boundary grows thin. Parameters shifting beyond acceptable ranges."*
*"Synchronization at 73% and climbing. Integration protocols showing promising results."*
*"Player ID #4,429,847 displaying anomalous trait compatibility. Recommend immediate observation."*
Xìng Huáng's blood ran cold at that last post. His player ID was #4,429,847.
He scrolled frantically through more posts, looking for something—anything—that resembled normal player communication. Finally, buried deep in a thread about dungeon strategies, he found a message that seemed genuine:
*"Is anyone else experiencing weird glitches in the new Crimson Valley zone? My guild tried to run it earlier and half our members got disconnected with error messages we've never seen before. The ones who stayed online said their characters were acting on their own. Getting really worried here."*
The replies were a mix of similar concerns and the same mechanical-sounding responses he'd seen in the other threads. But there were enough genuine player voices to confirm his suspicions: this wasn't an isolated incident.
A soft chime indicated an incoming private message. Xìng Huáng hesitated before opening it—given everything else that was malfunctioning, even his private communications might be compromised. But the sender's name was familiar: LoneWolf_Yang, a player he'd occasionally traded information with about boss strategies.
*"Huáng! Thank god you're online. Something crazy is happening. I'm not in the valley, but my character sheet is going haywire. Stats changing on their own, skills I never learned appearing in my list, and there's this countdown timer I can't get rid of. Are you seeing this too?"*
Relief flooded through him. At least he wasn't alone in experiencing these anomalies. He quickly typed back:
*"Same here. Currently in Crimson Valley and things are much worse here. Encountered some kind of fake players that tried to initiate a 'containment protocol' on me. Whatever this is, it's not normal game content. Are you able to log out?"*
The response came back almost immediately:
*"Tried three times. System keeps saying logout unavailable due to 'ongoing synchronization process.' My real-world clock shows I've been online for 14 hours straight, but my character sheet says 3 hours. Time itself seems messed up."*
Xìng Huáng checked his own session timer and felt a chill. According to the game, he'd been online for 47 minutes. But he distinctly remembered entering the valley over two hours ago, and his real-world sense of time passing supported that memory.
*"Listen, Yang. I think we need to consider that this might not be a game bug. Something fundamental is changing. I'm going to try finding a way out of this valley, but if you can reach other players, start spreading the word. Tell people to be careful with the new content zones."*
*"Already on it. Started a group chat with everyone on my friends list who's still responding normally. Most people seem to be experiencing minor glitches if they're not in the event zones, but anyone who went into Crimson Valley or the other new areas... well, let's just say the reports are getting scary."*
Before Xìng Huáng could respond, another notification appeared—this one different from anything he'd seen before:
*PRIORITY ALERT - REAL WORLD INTEGRATION STATUS*
*Current Location: Crimson Valley (Dimensional Anchor Point 7)*
*Integration Progress: 31.7%*
*Subject Classification: Anomalous Trait Bearer*
*Recommendation: MAINTAIN OBSERVATION*
The message vanished after three seconds, but its implications hit him like a physical blow. Real world integration? Dimensional anchor point? This wasn't game terminology—this was something else entirely.
He was about to type a warning to Yang when the mechanical voices returned, closer than before.
"Target located. Integration parameters within acceptable range. Initiating approach vector."
Three figures emerged from the crimson mist, moving with that same unsettling synchronization. But now, up close, Xìng Huáng could see details that made his stomach turn. Their player avatars were perfect replicas of actual character models, but small inconsistencies gave them away—clothing textures that didn't quite match the lighting, facial expressions that changed a fraction of a second too late, and those too-bright eyes that seemed to look through him rather than at him.
"Anomalous Player ID #4,429,847," they spoke in unison, their voices creating an eerie harmonic effect. "Divine Greed Trait confirmed. Integration potential: Maximum. Please remain stationary for processing."
"Yeah, that's not happening," Xìng Huáng muttered, drawing his daggers.
But as he prepared to fight, something unprecedented occurred. The three entities stopped moving, their heads tilting in perfect unison as if listening to something he couldn't hear. After a moment, they straightened.
"Priority override received," they announced. "Subject to remain unprocessed for extended observation period. Withdrawal authorized."
Without another word, they turned and walked back into the mist, their synchronized footsteps fading until only the oppressive silence of the valley remained.
Xìng Huáng stood frozen for several minutes, hardly daring to believe they were gone. When he finally moved, it was to send an urgent message to Yang:
*"Something just happened. I think I'm being monitored by whatever is causing these glitches. They mentioned 'real world integration' and called me an 'anomalous trait bearer.' My Divine Greed trait might be more important than we thought. If you can get word to other players with Bond Unique Traits, tell them to be extremely careful."*
Yang's response was immediate and alarming:
*"Huáng, you need to see this. I'm sending you a link to a news article. It just went live twenty minutes ago."*
The link led to a major news website. The headline made Xìng Huáng's hands shake as he read:
**"BREAKING: Massive Power Outages Across Seven Countries Coincide with Strange Atmospheric Phenomena. Scientists Report 'Impossible' Energy Readings in Areas Surrounding Major VR Gaming Centers."**
The article described unexplained electromagnetic disturbances, reports of "reality distortions" near facilities housing Immortal Destiny's primary servers, and eyewitness accounts of strange creatures briefly appearing in urban areas before vanishing.
But it was the final paragraph that made everything click into horrible place:
*"Officials are investigating possible connections between these incidents and reports of players being unable to log out of certain virtual reality games. The European VR Safety Commission has issued an advisory recommending users avoid newly released content zones until further notice."*
Xìng Huáng closed the article with trembling hands. The countdown in his character sheet now read 21:15:33, and for the first time, he had a terrible suspicion about what would happen when it reached zero.
This wasn't a game anymore.
This was preparation for something much, much worse.
In the distance, barely audible over the oppressive silence of the Crimson Valley, he could swear he heard the sound of reality beginning to tear at its seams.