Individual Action

The Brain-Drainer was having a hell of a time. The final mission target was clearly close by, yet he simply couldn't get inside.

This highly rewarding mission was like a carrot dangling in front of a donkey—visible, but impossible to eat.

And that carrot was the Turing Church fleet's flagship, a mobile fortress at sea cobbled together from more than a dozen ancient aircraft carriers.

He had already learned that the remaining professional knowledge in the "Electronic Doctrine" knowledge chain was hidden inside it. He had even found out the exact location.

"What do you think, Humanities Monk?"

"Nothing much. The electronic barriers there are stacked thicker than a corporation's core database. Getting inside is impossible."

"So you're giving up?"

"You can try breaking in physically. Don't you often mock me, saying that us Humanities Monks are inferior to you Science Monks? Now that physical conversion is needed, don't chicken out."

"..."

The Brain-Drainer was having a hell of a time. His main weapon—a rare mech he had bought at great expense—wasn't waterproof. The moment it entered the water, it sank.

And relying on himself alone, he would probably be blasted into scraps by several high-ranking Turing priests before he even got inside.

"Huh? The administrator is adding people."

In the tiny group chat consisting only of the Brain-Drainer, Silver Zen Master, and the group owner, more than a dozen new faces suddenly appeared.

"Administrator invited 'Rainy Night with a Blade, No Umbrella' to the group."

"Administrator invited 'Lord Bao' to the group."

"Administrator invited 'Trilobite' to the group."

"Administrator invited 'Virtual Gravity' to the group."

"Administrator invited 'Lingling Water' to the group."

"Administrator invited 'Master of Slacking' to the group."

"Administrator invited 'Tachi-san' to the group."

More than a dozen players had joined at once, leaving the two