A System with PTSD

[Thank goodness they left quickly. If they'd stayed a little longer, they probably would have noticed something strange about Canghai Star.]

The system breathed a sigh of relief.

In fact, it had been bound to many hosts, and Wuma Xiu was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine.

If word got out about that number, it would probably be enough to earn it the title of "most miserable system."

Which of its previous hosts hadn't been exceptionally talented?

For instance, its four hundred and forty-fourth host had been a best actor.

His acting had been masterful.

He could switch effortlessly between any identities, even adjusting the rhythm of his breathing to match a character's personality.

His acting truly had been impeccable.

When he played the Moon God, he had imitated his every movement, even matching some of his subtle little habits exactly.

He had fooled many people, even the Moon God's followers.

—The Moonlight Clan.

But after the Sun God awakened, when they met...

The Sun God had given that host a cold glance, then his thin lips had curled slightly, and he actually laughed. His smile had been chilling to the bone, cloaked in undisguised, condescending revulsion, as though he were looking at a sickening counterfeit.

His golden eyes swept over the host, and he tilted his flawless face slightly.

The subtle movement stirred the golden hair that hung over his shoulders.

It was so brilliant it was almost dazzling.

His lashes were half lowered, and his golden eyes were too stingy to spare even a trace of anger, holding nothing but a piercing chill.

The Sun God raised a hand and gently rubbed his fingertips together, and a dazzling cluster of golden divine flames obediently sprang to life.

It licked at the air between his long fingers.

The instant sparks scattered, the curve of his lips vanished, and his gaze abruptly darkened.

Divine might spread soundlessly.

He stared at the light dancing on his fingertip, then his thin lips curled slightly, and he gave a low chuckle.

"Who are you to think you're worthy of being my younger brother?"

And then its four hundred and forty-fourth host was gone.

In fact, when the system had bound itself to that host, it had had a faint sense that something was wrong.

Because that number was far too unlucky.

Four hundred and forty-four. It was as if it couldn't wait to die.

Then there was its nine hundred and ninety-third host, a deductive genius.

His intellect and cunning were unparalleled, and he could turn the world upside down with a flip of his hand.

But what of it?

Hadn't the Star God seen through him anyway?

Still, it had to admit that host had been smart.

So smart that even the system admired him.

The deductive genius had devised an entire meticulous plan, with every step linked to the next and not a single flaw.

Unfortunately, it was as if those gods had some kind of authenticity detector installed in their eyes.

The Sun God took one look and saw through it.

The Star God took one look and saw through it too.

When its nine hundred and ninety-third host met the Star God, the latter glanced at him with those deep purple eyes.

Then the Star God spoke. "You're not my older brother."

Before that host could even ask what had given him away, the Star God had already looked away.

And then...

Its nine hundred and ninety-third host was gone yet again.

Some hosts had it even worse and were even stupider.

Some were exposed by the Moon God's followers, the Moonlight Clan.

Some acted so badly that even the Star God's followers, the Starry Sky Beasts, saw through them. In a way, that host had been a "genius" too.

The main reason every one of its hosts had died so quickly and so miserably was that it was the God Disguise Role-Playing System.

The divine cards required role-playing points to be unlocked before they could grant their corresponding powers.

And once a host was exposed, the card would rapidly dim and become unusable.

In short, nine hundred and ninety-eight times, success had slipped away at the last moment, and each time, the host had died differently.

After each failure,

it had spent energy to return to the starting point, bind itself to a new host, and begin again.

But this time, its energy had hit rock bottom.

It could never go back again.

When it bound itself to Wuma Xiu, the system had completely given up.

It had closed its eyes and picked at random from the host pool.

In the end, it had jabbed a finger down and landed on Wuma Xiu.

Oh well.

It had failed so many times. This time, whatever happened, happened.

Its energy was gone anyway, and it couldn't go back.

It would treat this as the last time and just go through the motions.

It was already prepared for its energy to run out and for it to shut down completely.

But precisely because it had failed so many times,

the system now had a bone-deep stress response to everything connected to the Moon God.

It wasn't ordinary PTSD.

It was a conditioned reflex etched into its code.

Whenever it saw the Moonlight Clan, it wanted to shrink back.

Just now, even when Wuma Xiu was drinking from the star cup, it had silently prayed that the star decorations on the cup wouldn't suddenly light up.

It had been terrified that the Star God would suddenly pop out.

So now, watching the Moonlight Clan's vanguard squad leave, the system was almost moved to tears.

Thankfully, they had left quickly.

Thankfully, they had already left that place, and thankfully, Canghai Star was safe for the time being.

One more day of survival was a day; one more hour was an hour.

It didn't expect to succeed this time. It only hoped to live a few more days.

"What are you afraid of?" Wuma Xiu asked.

Ever since loading the Moon God's role, he had actually been able to sense the system's emotions.

He also knew what it was thinking.

Like what it had just been thinking about.

Wuma Xiu had often heard the saying that the waves behind on the Yangtze River pushed the waves ahead, leaving the earlier waves to die on the beach.

So before him, there were already nine hundred and ninety-eight predecessors smashed to death on that beach.

The system was rendered speechless.

What was it afraid of?

There were far too many things it feared.

It feared the Sun God's golden eyes and the Star God's purple eyes...

But there was no way it could say any of that.

As for why—

—Its image, of course!

—Its image!

[Host, it's nothing.]

"System, then guess where I'm going next."

Wuma Xiu spoke up suddenly.

He had a bad habit: whenever he was in a good mood, he wanted to find some amusement. And right now, the only thing left for him to tease was the system in his head.

[How would I know?]

The system's voice sounded stiff.

It really didn't know.

By rights, it had been bound to nine hundred and ninety-eight hosts and had seen far too many people.

Geniuses, madmen, the patient and the flamboyant... It had seen every kind of person. What kind of mind hadn't it glimpsed?

Yet this host alone, Wuma Xiu, was completely unreadable to it.

It couldn't hear what he was thinking.

Nor could it guess what he planned to do.

Perhaps it was because it didn't have enough energy?

But it couldn't manage him anymore, and it didn't want to.

He could do whatever he pleased.

It would all be over soon anyway.

So the system thought.

It lay back down in the coffin it had bought for itself.

As for why it was lying there, the reason was simple.

To wait for death!

"I'm going to take a look at the Federation border," Wuma Xiu said.

The Zerg had suddenly broken through the Federation's border and reached Canghai Star. That was enough to draw Wuma Xiu's attention.

If he hadn't been here today,

if the Moonlight Clan hadn't happened to appear today,

what would have become of Canghai Star? What would have become of the Starfolk on this planet?

The answer was obvious.

The entire planet would have been devoured, and all the Starfolk who had stayed behind would have lost their lives.

Wuma Xiu didn't like that outcome.

Hearing him say that, the system, which had already been lying in its coffin waiting to die, shot upright on its deathbed.

[Ah! Host! Don't go!]

An alarm rang out in Wuma Xiu's mind.

The system might have been dying, but it still wanted to live as long as it could.

The reason it didn't want Wuma Xiu to go to the border was its five hundred and sixty-fourth host.

His death had been recorded as resulting from the Zerg Emperor noticing something amiss.

His identity had been exposed.

And that host had logged off.

"Why shouldn't I go?"

"I'm going."

Not only was Wuma Xiu going, he was also going to clean up the Zerg infestation while he was at it.

[...]

The system fell silent for a long time.

So long that Wuma Xiu wondered whether it had exhausted the last of its energy.

And really shut down.

Then he heard a muffled voice in his head.

[Nine hundred and ninety-ninth host—Wuma Xiu, if you die, I won't let you off even as a ghost.]

Wuma Xiu didn't stop, but the corners of his mouth curved.

"All right. When the time comes, you'll have to tell me first: what does a system look like as a ghost?"

[None of your business.]

The system was so angry that its body temperature rose.

This host was probably a lost cause too.

It was so angry that it kicked the lid clean off the coffin it had bought for itself.