Everyone knelt in awe. These so-called masters of faking death had put on such a flawless performance.
Seriously—didn't we all go through the same nine years of compulsory education? How were they this good at acting? They must've studied drama on the side!
Meanwhile, a certain unfortunate player had just died and rage-quit. Still drenched in cold sweat and trembling from phantom pain, he crawled his way to the game forum.
"You won't believe this—but I nearly died from a game. It felt like torture! I swear, I'm never doing that again."
"Are you a masochist? Why didn't you just lower the pain settings?"
"I did! Or at least... I thought I did. I'm telling you, it has to be a bug."
The post exploded with replies.
For the first time since launch, someone had reported what seemed like a legitimate bug. More players who had logged out after dying joined in with similar complaints. Each of them insisted they had adjusted the pain sensitivity before the boss fight—but it hadn't worked.
"Wait—you too?"
"Same here. I turned it down, but it still felt like getting burned alive."
After a long and frantic discussion, they arrived at a terrifying conclusion:
Every time a player was killed by a boss, the system forcibly cranked up their pain threshold to 50%—no matter what their settings were.
A collective chill ran down their spines.
This wasn't just hardcore. This was inhumane.
"Must be an intentional feature—to stop people from casually challenging bosses. A hidden death penalty, maybe?"
Unlike other MMOs, where dying was just a minor inconvenience, this game took realism to a new level. The pain was authentic. Death had consequences. No quick respawns without a lingering sense of ouch.
"We've got to warn the others inside!"
"Too late. You can't access the forums while in-game."
"Then... they'll have to find out the hard way."
They could only watch in helpless dread as the second beta day, meant to be a triumphant celebration, slowly turned into a collective tragedy. A full party wipe loomed on the horizon—and with it, a symphony of agonized screams.
Meanwhile, Xu Zhi sat peacefully on his chair, chewing his food with detached amusement.
He usually didn't bother with the players much, but now? Squashing them while eating was oddly satisfying—like watching TV during dinner.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
More players bravely stepped up.
"Guys, I'll show you what a real man looks like!"
"AAAAAAHHHH!!!"
Their blood-curdling cries echoed nonstop as Xu Zhi casually swatted them away like insects.
After all, in the countryside, swatting ants crawling on you during a peaceful meal was just part of daily life, wasn't it?
While everyone was playing sacrificial lamb to distract him, one cunning player made their move. The Pallbearer Chicken had crawled into Xu Zhi's lunchbox.
"Heh... I've finally done it. I'll poison him to death."
Akina's Speedster grinned, leading a dozen chicken-evolved creatures to burrow deep into the sea of white rice.
The suicide squad halted their charge, watching in awe.
"He did it! He actually got into the lunchbox!"
"So many gave their lives for this moment... our boss conquest is finally at hand!"
Tears streamed down digital faces as they cheered.
Sure, the screams had been fake—but these star performers had acted their hearts out. Their agony had been Oscar-worthy.
"So, you've finally made it into my lunchbox?" Xu Zhi muttered with mild curiosity. "You guys really went all out."
He picked up the lunchbox and resumed eating.
If he wants me to eat him, I'll play along.
He took another bite.
Meanwhile, the insects hiding nearby watched with baited breath.
"Yes! Eat! Eat him already! Hurry up!"
Gobble, gobble.
Xu Zhi munched on.
The players' anticipation grew by the second.
Then suddenly, just as he was about to chomp down on the Pallbearer Chicken, Xu Zhi paused.
"So many bugs biting me today... And now my food's cold. Guess I'll warm it up in the oven."
He stood and walked inside.
Players: "???"
What just happened? Why the sudden need to reheat?
"Did this NPC really just reject raw food? That's insane."
"What kind of boss is this? Why is he this realistic?!"
"This can't be real!"
"I just can't eat this moron raw," Xu Zhi muttered.
He figured it wasn't cannibalism. At worst, it was like eating chicken-flavored bugs. People ate raw steak and sashimi, didn't they?
But he wasn't fond of raw food. He preferred it well-cooked—especially with his stomach cancer. He'd even double-checked with the Tyranis Hive Mind: the poison would still work after cooking.
He wasn't taking any chances.
Let's cook him properly, then test the toxin.
He placed the lunchbox in the oven and cranked it to its max: 280 degrees.
He hadn't forgotten what Akina's Speedster had done—out of everyone, this guy had caused the most trouble. The others had quick, painless deaths. But this one? He was getting the full roasting experience.
Whoosh!
The oven lit up like a miniature apocalypse.
Inside the glowing red world, Akina's Speedster began to panic. Steam rose off his bright feathers, and sweat dripped down his beak.
"No problem. I've turned down pain. I'll be fine. I'll be fine... I'll be..."
He trembled, desperately clinging to denial.
"This dungeon... even has an oven? What is this hell?!"
Then came the screams.
"WAAAAHHH!!!"
IT'S HOT! IT'S TOO HOT!
The pain was unbearable—worse than hellfire. His screams made all previous deaths sound like lullabies.
In the kitchen, Xu Zhi sat down, smiling with the satisfaction of a man who'd finally gotten even.
"There. Now we're square. Maybe you'll stop trying to mess with me every waking moment."
From his perspective, this wasn't a dramatic boss battle. This was just dinner. For the players, it had been a grand saga.
For him? A meal.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
A phoenix's cry echoed from the oven.
Xu Zhi blinked.
"Seven, eight minutes in... and this idiot's still alive? Wait. Did he... evolve inside the oven?"
Then, for the first time, the Tyranis Hive Mind spoke with genuine surprise.
"The first Tyranis Hero... has been born."