Player Human Body Scan

Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run sent a message in the area channel: "I just tried it, it's the same for everyone."

"We can't log out normally while in captivity."

"Unless we commit suicide... or get killed by them."

A chorus of wailing erupted in the channel again.

Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford: "Suicide?! That costs 5 coins to respawn! I only have 11.2 coins total right now! One suicide and I'm straight-up bankrupt!"

Soul of Cadia: "And besides... can you really bring yourself to do it? You heard the screams of those two brothers earlier... that was real pain!"

Did White Scars speed today: "Then what do we do? Wait to be turned into corpse-starch by these damn NPCs?"

Tau-kun, you are right, but Bolter is righter: "I have a half-baked idea... since this is the Warhammer world, can we try... worshipping The Emperor?"

"What if we move one of the Primarchs or The Emperor himself?"

I am not the Regent I am just a passing Guilliman: "Theoretically possible, but we don't even have an icon of The Emperor, and our prayers are incomplete."

"Besides, according to records, The Emperor generally doesn't respond to such last-minute prayers unless you are a Primarch or a particularly important pawn."

Slaanesh Chosen Reserve: "So let's just turn to Chaos! Chaos responds fast! The barrier to entry is low! As long as you're crazy and extreme enough!"

"Shut up!"

This time, several messages popped up simultaneously.

The roar of the transport plane's engines grew louder, the fuselage began to vibrate, and it slowly ascended.

Through the narrow observation window on the cabin wall, Wang Zhong saw the mine below getting smaller and smaller; Workshop No. 7 looked like a tiny matchbox, and those soldiers and gunships were conducting their final sweep.

Then, his view was obscured by clouds.

The cabin was deathly silent.

Only the roar of the engines and the heavy breathing of the players remained.

Wang Zhong leaned against the cold cabin wall and closed his eyes.

His mind was a mess.

He could no longer tell if this was a game or the real Warhammer world... he had truly arrived in this universe.

This was the darkest, cruelest, and most hopeless era for humanity.

The Emperor sat on the Golden Throne, living a fate worse than death; the Primarchs were either dead, traitors, or missing; Chaos lurked in the Warp; Orks, Tyranids, Necrons, T'au... all were sharpening their blades.

And they, five thousand unarmed players, had been dumped onto this frontier world, starting with nothing but a miner's pick, relying on scavenging for gear, currently owing the system a breathing tax, and captured by local thugs to be used as lab rats.

What kind of hellish start was this?

"Brothers," Wang Zhong spoke in the area channel, "everyone calm down and listen to me."

The scrolling speed of the channel slowed down.

"Our situation is bad, but at least we're still alive."

"Do you know what it means for a group of people with no identity, no background, and who appeared out of nowhere to be captured by a local power like the Alru Group in the Warhammer 40K world?"

Silence.

A few seconds later, someone replied.

The Emperor's tax must be paid even if the world ends:

"It means... we have become expendable resources."

Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run: "Correct."

"Based on my understanding of the Warhammer worldview, local factions, especially groups that control the pharmaceutical industry, love people like us with unknown identities."

"Human experimentation, organ harvesting, genetic sample collection, new drug testing... we might even be sold to the Mechanicus as raw material for servoskulls, or used as sacrifices for some Chaos worshipper."

Soul of Cadia: "Fuck! Stop! You're giving me goosebumps!"

Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford: "So... we're dead for sure?"

Schrodinger's Loyalist: "Not necessarily."

"Don't forget, we have a game system... although I highly suspect Tzeentch is behind this."

"But at least it gave us the ability to respawn, even if it costs money."

Did White Scars speed today: "So you mean... we just lie back and take it, respawn after we die, and try to break out by appearing at random locations?"

I am not the Regent I am just a passing Guilliman: "Theoretically possible."

"But respawning costs 5 coins, and most of us only have a dozen or so; we'll be bankrupt after dying twice at most."

"And after bankruptcy? The system says we can take out loans, with predatory interest rates... might as well just delete our accounts."

Tau-kun, you are right, but Bolter is righter: "Delete our accounts? Can we even go back if we do? What if deleting the account means real death?"

The channel fell into silence once more.

The transport plane began to descend, and through the observation window, the lights of the city below were visible—not the warm lights of a thousand homes, but a rigid, industrial grid of illumination.

Arlu City had arrived.

Twenty minutes later, the transport plane landed on a landing pad atop a certain building.

The hatch opened, and blinding searchlights shone in once again.

"Everyone! Get out!"

"Form two lines! Follow the person in front of you!"

"No whispering! No looking around!"

The players were herded off the transport plane and into a dim corridor filled with pipes.

The corridor extended downward, growing deeper as they walked; the air became damp and cold, carrying the scent of some kind of chemical agent.

Along the way, they passed several heavy blast doors, each guarded by fully armed soldiers.

Finally, they were brought to a massive underground space.

It looked like a temporary detention center converted from an abandoned storage area, with a few dim yellow lights hanging from the towering dome, the light barely illuminating the cages separated by thick iron bars below.

Each cage was about twenty square meters, containing nothing but a concrete floor.

"Get in!"

The soldiers shoved them with the butts of their rifles, locking the players into the cages in groups.

Wang Zhong, Tax Brother, Xue Brother, and over a dozen other members of the Terra Underground Network Tavern were locked into the same cage.

The iron door slammed shut with a clang and locked tight.

The soldiers turned and left, their footsteps echoing through the vast underground space, gradually fading into the distance.

The cage was deathly silent.

Wang Zhong walked to the iron bars and looked out.

The entire underground detention center had about a hundred such cages, most of which were already filled with people.

The players were sitting or standing; some were whispering, some were staring blankly, and some were trying to bend the iron bars, clearly to no avail.

The regional channel became active once again.

[Don't ask, I think it will work]: "Brothers, I'm starting to panic a little."

"This place doesn't look like a temporary holding area; it looks like it was built specifically to keep people... Do you think they'll keep us here and drag a few people out for experiments periodically?"

[Slaanesh Chosen Reserve]: "Experiments? What kind of experiments? If it's Slaanesh-style experiments... I think I might be okay with that!"

"Okay with your ass!"

[Nurgle Loving Father Loves All]: "If it's Nurgle-style experiments... will they inject us with all sorts of viruses and bacteria to see if we can survive?"

"Survive and mutate, or fail and rot?"

"Could you stop saying such terrifying things in such a calm tone?!"

[Soul of Cadia]: "I just want to ask one thing right now, you dog developers! Where is the mech you promised?!"

"I came in here to pilot a mech! Not to be a lab rat!"

[Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford]: "Mech? What use is a mech to you right now? Break out of prison in a mech? Then get blown into slag by an orbital cannon?"

[Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run]: "Based on the fragmented information we have gathered, the Alru Group is a pharmaceutical company under the Simans Chamber of Commerce."

"What do pharmaceutical companies love to do most in the Warhammer 40K universe?"

"Illegal genetic experiments, banned drug testing, human augmentation... So, there is a high probability that we will become 'volunteers' for the aforementioned projects."

[Schrodinger's Loyalist]: "Volunteers... that's a nice way to put it."

"I bet they won't even let us sign an informed consent form."

[Another Day Working for the Emperor]:

"Sign? My ass! It's a mercy they didn't just throw us directly into the reactor!"

Wang Zhong leaned against the cold iron bars and sighed.

"There's no other way," he said in a low voice, "We can't log out now unless we commit suicide and respawn."

"But suicide costs money, and it hurts."

"Let's see how things play out first. Let's see what this Alru Group is actually trying to do."

No sooner had he finished speaking than heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance of the underground space.

A squad of soldiers escorted a person over.

The player's ID was [Another Day Working for the Emperor]; he was a young man in his early twenties, his face deathly pale, his legs trembling.

He was brought to the open space in the center of the cage area, where a makeshift interrogation table sat, with three people in white lab coats and breathing masks sitting behind it.

"Brothers," [Another Day Working for the Emperor] sent a message in the regional channel, his tone tragic, "I never win the lottery, but this piece of bad luck—I'll take it for you all."

Wang Zhong and the others could see the scene clearly from where they were.

The channel was immediately flooded:

"Safe travels, brother!"

"If you can't take it, bite your tongue and end it! We'll crowdfund your resurrection fee!"

"Crowdfund my ass! We can barely save ourselves right now!"

Another Day Working for the Emperor was pinned to a chair.

A figure in a white lab coat picked up a tablet-like data pad and asked in a cold, synthesized electronic voice:

"Name."

"Uh? Is a game ID okay?"

"Real name."

"...Zhang San." (Pseudonym)

"Age."

"22."

"Place of origin."

"Uh... Earth?"

The figure in the white coat looked up, eyes flashing with cold light behind a mask: "Specific coordinates."

Although he had acted very courageous in the channel just moments ago, he answered the questions submissively now.

"I don't know! I'm just an ordinary player! You guys are the ones who dragged me in here!"

"Player?"

The figure in the white coat seemed to be recording something, "An interesting term."

"Then, where is your login point? How many of you are there? What is the status of your weapons and equipment? Who is the organizer?"

Another Day Working for the Emperor looked bewildered: "The login point is just Workshop No. 7!"

"You've seen us all, five thousand of us! Weapons? We have mining picks! Organizer? Does the dog developer count?"

The figure in the white coat was silent for a few seconds.

Then, they nodded to the soldier standing nearby.

The soldier stepped forward, pulled out a syringe, and without a word, plunged it into Zhang San's neck.

"Holy shit! What are you doing, ahhhhhhh!"

A shrill, miserable scream echoed throughout the entire underground space.

Zhang San's body began to convulse violently, eerie blue-black vein patterns emerged on the surface of his skin, his eyeballs bulged, and he began to foam at the mouth.

Seeing this scene, Wang Zhong and the others couldn't help but tremble, even though they had expected it.

The regional channel exploded.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! They're playing for real!"

"What the hell is that?! Poison?! A virus?!"

"Hold on, brother!"

"Hold on my ass! He's stopped moving!"