The boy with silver hair muttered to himself like a madman as he walked down the sidewalk.
"Alright, what's my next mission?"
[The constellation *Silent Death* is thrilled by your spirit.]
[The constellation *Silent Death* smiles at you: *Simply pierce the hearts of ten people within the next ten minutes. Your reward? A 10% boost to your Terror stats.*]
"Tsk." The boy gritted his teeth, irritation flashing in his crimson eyes. Killing in a public place like this? A surefire way to land himself in hot water.
"I'm not doing this—" But as he tried to reject the mission, fragments of memory flickered across his vision…
*A boy with eyes as red as his own sat perched on a tree branch, grinning down at him. Though the smile seemed friendly, the mockery in his gaze was razor-sharp.*
"Well, well. Just as I expected… You're nothing but a worthless piece of trash. How *dare* you think you could compete with me for the title of Black Player?" The boy's voice was soft, dripping with disdain.
In that moment, Zhou Fan felt hollow. *Second place. Always second.* His father—CEO of a corporate giant, a man who dominated every room—had never once praised him. Instead, he'd grown colder, more distant, year after year.
Zhou Fan had spent his childhood chasing approval. A ten-year-old boy with no family but a father who treated him like a failed investment. He'd thrown himself into mastering anything—*anything*—that might earn him a shred of attention.
Then he found it: the virtual reality game *Eclipse Online*. Here, he was feared. Here, he was *legend*.
"R-run!! It's a Red Player!"
Other gamers scattered at the sight of him. Red Players were monsters who slaughtered others with brutal precision, clawing their way to the top of the rankings. Zhou Fan had finally become someone. Until *that* update…
A new feature introduced "Crimson Elite" status for the top ten Red Players—Zhou Fan among them. But it also unveiled something crueler: the elusive **Black Player** tier.
"Black Player… That's a title trash like you could *never* reach." The boy on the tree had said it with a smile, but the words were a blade to Zhou Fan's pride.
*Second. Again.*
[The constellation *Silent Death* awaits your response.]
Zhou Fan's lips twisted into a crooked smirk. "Mission accepted."
[Mission initiated.]
He raised his hand, and a sword materialized—gleaming white steel with a blood-red gem embedded in its hilt.
"Just wait," he whispered, tightening his grip. "I'll surpass you soon enough."
With that, he vanished into the crowd.
---
[Kevin's POV]
"Alright, team! Today's agenda: the **Night Land**."
Mia shuddered. Even though the game's pain settings were dialed down to 10% of real-life agony, her memories of that shadowy hellscape were enough to make her bones ache.
"As you know," Kevin continued, pacing like a general, "the Night Realm's stuck in eternal darkness, crawling with vampires and werewolves. And guess what? We're gonna waltz right in!"
Ryan groaned. "Unless I'm missing something, the Night Realm's locked until the eighth main event. Which, news flash, isn't happening anytime soon."
"Wroooong!" Kevin lunged into Ryan's personal space, shouting loud enough to make him flinch.
"Psycho! Keep your voice down!" Ryan clutched his ringing ear.
Kevin's grin stretched ear to ear. "All we need is to be in the *China server* when the first event starts. Which, *ahem*, we already are."
Mia and Ryan exchanged baffled looks. After a tense pause, Ryan whispered, "You're not… planning to bargain with **Lord Vensai**, are you?"
"Bingo!" Kevin jabbed a finger at him.
"You're INSANE!" Mia snapped. Her foot met Kevin's face with a *thud*, sending him crashing onto a nearby table.
________________________________________
Special Chapter: Kevin's "Cooking"
"Hmm, truly a masterpiece." Kevin admired the charcoal-like lump he called an omelette. To him, anything he cooked—even if it resembled fossilized lava—was a "culinary triumph." Food made by others? *Eh*, maybe 7/10. Unless it was made by a pretty girl—then it was an 8.5. Hypothetical future girlfriends, though? Their cooking would automatically be a 1/10. Even if it tasted divine.
"What's that idiot doing now?" Ning'er muttered, watching Kevin set a plate of burnt mystery meat on a table adorned with a ridiculously oversized ribbon.
"Sweetheart," Kevin cooed to the empty chair across from him, "you'd better eat up before you lose your… *flavor*." His eyes sparkled with delusional seriousness.