The wheezing plea, thin and desperate, hadn't even finished echoing in the sterile ward. On screens across the Azure Federation, the stream chat was already a cascading waterfall of preemptive despair.
[> Tutorial quest. He's already bricked. Rule #1 says he has to help.]
[> So he needs to find a photo. A seven-year-old can't even read the rules, let alone follow them. What a joke.]
[> We are so unbelievably screwed. This kid is Dead on Arrival.]
[> The photo is a classic cabinet trap. Rule #2 says not to open them. It's designed to make you fail.]
[> So our new national champion, our last hope, is going to get stuck on the first fetch quest. Just perfect.]
[> Get ready for the Anomaly wave, people. This run is cooked. GG no re.]
[> Can we fast-forward to the part where we lose again? I need to get to work.]
In apartments, offices, and public squares across the Federation, a collective sigh deflated the nation's spirit. The mood didn't just hit rock bottom; it started digging.
Meanwhile, Kai had already processed the old man's request, categorized it, and dismissed it. A classic, low-effort timer quest, he thought, his expression bored. Find the MacGuffin before the debuff timer runs out. Tedious. The voice came from the only occupied bed in the small ward, shrouded by a cheap, beige curtain.
Without a flicker of hesitation, he strolled over. The fabric felt flimsy in his small hand. He ripped it aside. The sound of tearing hooks screeched through the quiet room.
A skeletal old man lay there, a prisoner in his own bed. Tubes and wires sprouted from his frail body like some grotesque, bio-mechanical porcupine. A transparent oxygen mask fogged and cleared with each ragged, shallow breath.
"Pho...to..." the muffled voice pleaded again, weaker this time.
Kai's eyes were cold and analytical. Black mist, the unmistakable signature of Corruption, was already seeping from the man's feet. It wasn't a gas; it was like an oily, living shadow, with thin tendrils snaking up his shins, turning the skin a bruised, necrotic gray. Classic debuff timer, Kai noted with academic detachment. Find the quest item before the NPC finishes transforming and aggros. Inefficient. Why would I play by their rules?
He wasn't here for a scavenger hunt. Scavenger hunts were for players who didn't know any better.
His gaze flicked to the bedside table. He snatched the cheap, plastic-cased phone, his movements quick and decisive. He flipped it to the front-facing camera, angled it to capture his own face, and flashed a wide, smug grin. Click. He then shoved the glowing screen directly into the old man's face.
"Photo's right here. Freshly taken."
The old man's breathing hitched, a sharp, wet gasp. The black mist, as if agitated, surged past his ankles in a sudden wave, accelerating its climb.
"My... my grandson's... photo!" The voice was a choked cry of frustration.
Kai feigned a thoughtful scratch of his head, a pantomime of childish confusion. Damn, his eyes still work. Annoying. Well, it was worth a shot.
[Dread Points +10]
The notification was a pleasant little ping in his vision, a soft chime confirming his strategy. His grin widened. Oh, this was definitely working.
"Fine," Kai sighed, his voice dripping with theatrical disappointment. "You're a picky customer. Phase two, I guess."
He watched, fascinated, as the Corruption's tendrils licked at the old man's bony knees. The infection rate was accelerating. Good. He cleared his throat, drew in a breath, and with the saccharine, over-the-top earnestness of a child actor in a terrible pharmaceutical commercial, he proclaimed:
"Grandpa!"
[Dread Points +5]
The old man's eyes, previously clouded with pain, bulged wide with incandescent fury. The pathetic wheeze vanished, replaced by a voice fueled by pure, unadulterated rage, rattling the very bedframe.
"PHOTO! GIVE ME THE PHOTO, YOU LITTLE BRAT!"
The black mist exploded upwards, engulfing his waist in seconds. This rate of infection was unheard of. On the streams of previous Players, the Corruption was a slow, creeping dread, delicately lapping at their ankles while they meticulously, respectfully, searched the ward for clues. Kai had turned it into a wildfire.
In the chat, the last embers of hope were unceremoniously stomped out.
[> I want to be mad, but… he's a kid. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's just making it worse.]
[> This is genuinely painful to watch. It's like watching a car crash in slow motion.]
[> Yep, the run's dead. An adult couldn't clear this instance with a perfect run. What did we expect from a child actively antagonizing the Anomaly?]
[> I get it. He doesn't understand. But still… fuck.]
This failure felt different from the Federation's last two. Those Players had been roasted online, their every mistake clipped, memed, and dissected into oblivion. With Kai, there was only a quiet, crushing resignation. The selection of a seven-year-old had killed their hope before the game even began. No hope meant no disappointment. Just the dull, familiar certainty of another loss.
Back in the ward, Kai watched the Corruption swarm the old man's torso, the black mist churning like a nest of spiders.
"PHOTO! PHOTO! PHOTO!" The NPC was now stuck in a rage loop, its dialogue tree completely broken.
"Seriously? Still on about that?" Kai scoffed, crossing his arms. "You're a terrible quest-giver, you know that? All stick and no carrot."
His eyes, cold and scanning for opportunities, landed on the oxygen tube. A thin, clear plastic line running from a humming machine to the mask on the old man's face. A lifeline. A vulnerability.
He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his small fingers wrapping around the tube.
And yanked. Hard.
There was a soft pop as the tube disconnected from the mask, followed by a faint hiss of escaping oxygen.
"Should've taken the deal, gramps," Kai muttered, his voice as cold and sterile as the hospital floor. "Now hurry up and drop the loot."
The moment the oxygen supply was cut, the old man's eyes blew wide in a final, shocking explosion of awareness. His body, already weakened, thrashed violently against the bed restraints. No sound came out, only a silent, furious scream trapped in his lungs as his face turned a deep, mottled purple. It was a desperate, primal struggle against an enemy he couldn't even see.
[Dread Points +85]
[Dread Points have reached 100.]
[Unlocking new Title…]
The thrashing sputtered. Weakened. Stopped. The old man went utterly still, his eyes frozen wide in a perfect, permanent portrait of dying, extremely mad about it.
[Title Unlocked: Rage Mode ]
[Base Effect: +5 Strength when equipped.]
[Origin: You attempted to cheese a quest with a low-effort selfie, failed, and then rage-quit the encounter by pulling the NPC's life support. He died extremely salty about your methods. ]
[Title Skill - Rage Mode: When an entity calls you out on your bullshit, you may activate this skill. All stats +10 for one hour. (Non-stackable)]
Kai inspected his new Title with the critical eye of a connoisseur. He then glanced at the corpse's expression of ultimate betrayal and fury.
Shame there's a 100-point cap per entity, he thought, a flicker of genuine, bottom-line annoyance crossing his face. This guy had at least 300 points worth of salt in him. What a waste of potential resources.
While Kai was lamenting his missed potential earnings, the Azure Federation's stream chat was having a collective, system-shocking, nationwide aneurysm. The quiet resignation vanished, replaced by a digital explosion.
[> HE PULLED THE PLUG! HE JUST PULLED THE FUCKING PLUG!]
[> WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! HE BROKE RULE #1 BUT DIDN'T GET CORRUPTED?!]
[> HOLY SHIT. HE KILLED IT. HE DIDN'T SOLVE THE PUZZLE, HE JUST… KILLED THE ANOMALY?]
[> Wait a minute… no oxygen = death. Is that… a valid strategy? Can you just ignore the quest rules and go for the kill?]
[> THAT'S NOT A STRATEGY, THAT'S AN EXPLOIT! DID A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD JUST FIND A ZERO-DAY EXPLOIT IN THE ANOMALY REALM'S CODE?!]
[> Rule immunity? Is that his SSS-Tier Talent? Is that why he's not afraid? WHAT IS HIS BUILD?!]
[> GUYS. HE DIDN'T BREAK THE RULE. RULE #1 IS 'YOU MUST HELP THE PATIENT'. THE OLD MAN WANTED A PHOTO. KAI GAVE HIM A PHOTO. THE QUEST WAS TECHNICALLY COMPLETE. PULLING THE PLUG WAS... POST-QUEST CLEANUP.]
[> THAT'S THE MOST PSYCHOPATHIC LOGIC I'VE EVER HEARD AND I THINK IT'S ACTUALLY CORRECT!]
[> WE'RE NOT COOKED! THE RUN ISN'T DEAD! HOLY SHIT, THIS KID MIGHT ACTUALLY WIN!]