You Two... Which One's the Boss?

Administrators and players supported and assisted each other, creating a mutually beneficial arrangement.

It sounded reasonable, but it was far too idealistic.

Administrators might complain that players weren't good enough and made stupid mistakes in the dungeon.

Players might also complain that their administrators weren't up to the task and couldn't offer them useful support. They were like lazy bystanders on the sidelines, leaving the players to do all the work and earn all the credit.

Although the system's restrictions and performance requirements forced administrators to treat players well, the problem of ability was still there. Not every administrator or player would necessarily accept this arrangement.

The Administrator Department had always done its best to prevent conflicts, but disputes between administrators and players were still common.

Some administrators didn't want to deal with weak players who would drag down their performance. And players weren't necessarily willing to put up with an administrator's foul mouth, criticism, and control—or other restrictions.

Even the basic model of cooperating normally to complete dungeons had started to draw criticism from some players.

That was how the Ten Evils came into being.

Since ancient times, the law had been a comprehensive and strictly enforced system. But in feudal times, how could the law have been entirely free of loopholes?

The imperial throne and the nobility themselves were the greatest problems with ancient law.

They enjoyed immunity from punishment, and whenever the royal family celebrated an occasion, they liked to grant amnesty across the land.

As it turned out, there was only one exception: the so-called Ten Abominations.

These included treason, fleeing the country, disrespecting the emperor, being unfilial, murdering one's relatives, and defying one's superiors, among other crimes.

Anyone who committed one of these crimes—even a member of the imperial family—could not escape death. A general amnesty wouldn't help, either. That was why they were called the Ten Unforgivable Abominations.

These players had somehow broken free of the company's control. Commonly known as rogue players, they were led by the Ten Evils.

The most obvious trait of the Ten Evils' official members was their ability to change their identities, transforming from players into dungeon monsters—even bosses—and blending into the dungeon's story to remain there long-term.

"It's been half a year since we last ran into them..."

The Official Division had dealt with them several times before. As administrators, its members knew players better than anyone and understood just how destructive they could be.

Those from the Ten Evils, who had escaped the company's control and were no longer bound by morality, were especially dangerous among players.

And after leaving the company, they had gained far more than freedom of movement.

"This rogue player only went offline last month. He probably hasn't been with the Ten Evils for long, so he definitely hasn't fully mastered his dungeon permissions yet. As long as the trapped player has some basic combat ability, we still have a chance..."

In the Official Division's office, Xu Xinhai and countless other members watched the screen intently as an image slowly came into view.

Among those present were living encyclopedias with an exceptionally deep knowledge of games, strategists who could calculate dungeon conditions with precision, and practical experts who could provide professional combat guidance.

If they could just get in touch with that player, they could...

"Buzz!" The screen flickered a few more times. Then everyone fell silent.

It wasn't that the situation had already been resolved. It was just that the image on the screen seemed so complicated that even these well-traveled members of the Official Division found it baffling.

"Wait... Is this dungeon designed with two bosses?"

"Did two members of the Ten Evils show up, or does he have a minion?"

In the image, the workshop was dimly lit in a warm, reddish glow. A corpse lay motionless in the center. Half-finished pieces of leather and gleaming knives surrounded it, making their blood run cold.

Finished masks lined the cabinets, one after another, a truly chilling sight.

Two figures stood facing each other, one at the workshop entrance and the other inside.

The one at the entrance was hunched and as thin as a stick. One leg looked like it had just been badly injured; the bones were twisted into a grotesque shape, and a large swelling had formed.

He wore a leather work apron with plenty of equipment hanging from it. In one hand he held a cleaver that could easily chop through bone; in the other, a short skinning knife. Just looking at him was enough to make anyone uneasy.

But the most horrifying thing was his face. It looked as if he'd suffered severe burns: shriveled skin, blackened dead flesh, partially living tissue, burn blisters, and bloody wounds all mixed together.

He also seemed to have just been struck hard by something. A huge scar stretched across his forehead, where more than one layer of skin had been split open.

An alarming amount of thick, fresh blood covered his face, making his eyes bloodshot. It had run down onto his clothes, making him look as if he'd just escaped from a slaughterhouse.

But compared with this man, who was panting and glaring like a fiend, most members of the Official Division seemed more interested in the person standing opposite him.

The other man wasn't particularly muscular, but he stood straight and wore a standard college student's outfit. His air, however, was clearly more mature.

In his left hand was a blunt prop Bronze Sword. In his right was a long-handled, flat-headed serrated knife that had clearly come from the workshop.

Most baffling of all was the wildness that radiated from him, beyond the calm air he carried.

It came not only from the thick blood coating one of his hands, but also from his head.

From his neck up, his skin had turned a rough grayish white—or, rather, a thick layer of short fur had grown over it.

His fur-covered face was terribly distorted. Where there was no fur, bulging veins stood out clearly. His mouth jutted forward, fangs bared, and thick, long fur covered the back of his head all the way to the crown.

His two pointed ears twitched from side to side. Hot air poured from his broad nostrils, and something seemed to cover his eyes, reflecting a murky yellow light around the room.

It was unmistakably a massive wolf's head attached to a human body, lifelike and snarling as it growled at the figure by the entrance.

"Isn't this the Flaying Labyrinth? How did it turn into a werewolf game?"

That was the first reaction of countless Official Division members who saw the image. Only afterward did they start thinking about the questions raised earlier.

"Are you stupid? They're both wearing masks. Didn't you see the other animal masks left in the back?"

"Exactly. Bi Gan's ability lets special leather give leather goods special effects. Maybe the burned man can inflict burns in ways that defy science. And that Wolf-Head Mask... I wouldn't be surprised if it could actually eat people."

In their day-to-day roles, these Official Division members were part Pokémon trainers, part game hosts, and a little bit like company HR.

Since they'd made it into the Official Division, they should have been far better than ordinary people at reading others. But this scene was just too strange.

If the one by the entrance was the boss, he certainly looked grotesque enough to be one of the Ten Evils.

But if he was the boss, how had he been beaten up so badly? One leg was lame, and his head was bleeding.

And he was a former player who'd become a boss. Even if his abilities weren't combat-oriented, he'd still had two promotions, was only 10% short of complete, and had been operating in the dungeon for so long. How had a newcomer managed to beat him up this badly?