The players continued to push north. Along the way, they barely saw any guards. Occasionally, a few scattered patrolling guards spotted them, but before they could sound the alarm, Yueyue’s cleaver had already slit their throats.
The group of players silently watched the pink-haired girl leading them. For some reason, she was shrouded in an aura of resentment, and no one dared to speak up or ask about the situation.
They were still counting on this female killer to protect them.
Even among new players, there were clear levels of disparity. This pink-haired girl was obviously the one who had adapted the fastest, and similarly, the one who had been quickest to reveal her fangs.
One had to understand that those who could access Oasis were mostly privileged youths who had grown up in comfortable environments. Most of them had never even killed a chicken with their own hands. Even in a game, the sight of bright red blood caused an instinctive repulsion. Fighting zombies was one thing,
But they couldn't cut down people as cleanly and without hesitation as the young girl did.
Just thinking about how people around them might be like this pink-haired girl—looking innocent and naive on normal days, only to liberate their true selves and reveal the suppressed madness deep within their hearts the moment they entered the game—made them feel uneasy.
This game was just too realistic, they lamented.
Meanwhile, inside the nursery, law enforcers were still searching the floors above, smashing everything in sight. They hurled insults and profanities, acting as if they wouldn't rest until they had turned the place upside down.
The man who had been shot in the chest and abdomen lifted the cellar hatch slightly. After confirming there were no law enforcers wandering near the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief and silently closed the cover.
This was a temporary shelter that Mrs. Aerylia had specifically ordered to be built within the nursery. If the day ever came when the infected broke through the front lines and disaster suddenly descended upon this small nursery, the caretakers could bring the children here to hide and wait for rescue.
He hadn't expected the shelter to be used at a time like this—not because of the infected, but to hide from other humans.
Benjamin felt waves of cold sweat washing over him from time to time. A sensation of numbness flowed through almost his entire body. He had been hit by a stray bullet while fleeing earlier, and now the bullet remained lodged in his abdomen. His blood wouldn't stop flowing. Perhaps he would feel the pain once the adrenaline faded, or perhaps his heart would stop beating before then.
Looking at the pairs of eyes in the darkness, filled with wariness and unease, Benjamin had much to say but found himself unable to speak, fearing the children would hear the weakness in his voice.
The irony of reality always forced those who were naturally cowardly to take up arms in resistance.
Benjamin slid slowly down the wall until he sat on the floor, leaving a bloodstain on the wall that looked like a smear from a dirty rag. His dim eyes were like a candle flame that was about to be snuffed out by the wind.
"Are you alright?" Owl could see the man’s weakness and slowly walked out from the darkness.
The man had been hit by a bullet to protect them. In reality, an ordinary person should have lost the ability to move the moment they were hit, but in that moment, the man had erupted with unprecedented energy, managing to support himself long enough to bring them to this cellar.
"I'm fine...!" Benjamin squeezed out a forced smile. As if afraid they would worry about his safety, he tried to stand up to prove himself, but his body wouldn't give him the chance to explain. "I'm fine..."
He tried to stand up time and time again, and time and time again, he collapsed in frustration.
All he got in return were the confused, fearful, and uncomprehending looks of the children, alongside his own increasingly pale complexion.
"Alright, I might... need to rest a bit before I can stand up." Benjamin let out a long breath.
What on earth was driving him to do such a series of bold things? To dare to take in several children of unknown origin, to knock out a fierce law enforcer, and to lead children through a hail of bullets... None of these things matched his personality. He was supposed to be a very cowardly person.
Before today, he should have been nothing more than an ordinary editor-in-chief at a publishing house. Perhaps at this time, he should have been in the observation carriage enjoying afternoon tea, eating honey pancakes rich with the scent of wheat and beautifully colored macaron cakes, while drinking aromatic coffee and milk.
Perhaps he should have returned to the publishing house to finish the mountain of work piled up, and then tried to write a few pages of a fairy tale at his desk. It wouldn't have mattered if he couldn't think of anything; his mental world was rich. He could think on his way home, he could think during afternoon tea, or he could lie in bed, close his eyes, and wander through his dreams to find ideas.
Then one day, he would tell those stories to the children at the nursery, listening to their cries of praise and seeing their looks of adoration. That alone should have been enough. He just liked seeing the children's smiles and hearing their lighthearted voices.
He just...
He just wanted to add a bit of blue sky to his unchanging life.
He just hoped the warm sun would linger a little longer in his dull existence.
He just didn't want these children, who were already covered in scars, to be bullied anymore.
For these things, he could do a lot.
He could silently memorize fairy tales that others found childish and boring, keeping them in his heart.
He could keep his clothes meticulously neat.
He could offer a smile to every person he passed.
Alright, none of those things were particularly remarkable.
Because he was just an ordinary man.
The only thing in his life he could call a point of pride was using his life savings to establish Three-Legged Bird Publishing. As the editor-in-chief, he could print the world inside his heart and publish it as books for more people to see.
Even if, in this era, people didn't really need that initial innocence and beauty.
The poor needed bread, food, and water. If they didn't have warm clothes and a home, they would numb themselves with resentment against heaven and man.
The rich preferred to discuss politics, and were keen on exploring philosophy and the future. They treated theories and deep-sounding terms as their moral compass. If that compass wasn't tight enough, they would stop in their tracks, falling into endless nihilism.
He didn't want the sorrow of adults to become the sorrow of children.
So, what exactly was driving him?
Benjamin had thought about this question.
Should he stand up,
And like a hero, charge out grandly to strike down all the villains, then fall heroically, touching the hearts of those who knew the trajectory of his life?
But he really couldn't stand up anymore.
Nor did he have the courage to face the stern gazes of those law enforcers again.
He wasn't some hero.
He was just an ordinary man.
An ordinary man who didn't even know if the world he lived in was real.
A stray bullet that passed by accidentally was enough to take his life.
The self in his ideals was an unreachable shore.
Even if a miracle occurred and his injuries healed, he couldn't escape the judgment of the law enforcers.
His blood had almost run dry.
He could only ponder these questions as his consciousness drifted, reminiscing about his ordinary life.
Truly,
Truly,
He was so unwilling...!
Amidst the children’s unsettled gazes, Benjamin’s body slumped heavily to the floor, letting out a muffled thud.
"Are you alright?"
Owl came to the fallen man’s side, her voice trembling uncontrollably. It was only at this moment that she realized with certainty that the man truly just wanted to take them in, and had never intended to hand them over to the law enforcers.
Perhaps at the very beginning, when the man had heard news of them from the transport team, he had been joyful and proud.
His eyes had once sparkled with spirit, but now, that clear lake-blue was clouded by a thick layer of grey.
She wanted to apologize for her initial misunderstanding. Pushing gently at the man's shoulder, tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes as she spoke words of apology, crying out for him to hold on a little longer. But it was all meaningless now.
Benjamin could neither hear nor see.
She saw the book that had fallen from the man's arms.
The plain cover was stained with blood, glowing faintly in the gloom.
"Fairy Tale Collection"
What exactly had driven him to perform such a series of irrational acts?
In the final moment of his life, Benjamin finally found the answer to that question, inside a treasure chest full of ragdolls and treasures.
He whispered, his voice faint and sorrowful.
"I thought... I would become a proud father."
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