Chapter 93: Cola

Facing resisters, the villa's mechanical arms immediately retracted their cameras and microphones, transforming into various weapons.

Harley floated off the ground, her hair whipping wildly without wind, lightning arcs dancing at the tips of her ten fingers. As she clenched her fists, intense lightning erupted around her—mere stray arcs burned tree-like patterns into the wooden floor beneath her.

"Fuck, Misaka Mikoto!"

The lightning blinded, Li Cheng pulled Little Red Riding Hood with his left hand, drew his Bat Hook Gun with his right, and fired backward.

Bang!

The hook gun embedded into the wall, yanking both of them rapidly backward, away from the living room.

The thunderstorm lasted several seconds; when the lightning faded, the entire living room was in ruins. The piano, coffee table, chairs, and desks lay shattered across the floor.

As the culprit behind Harley's elimination, Will was struck by lightning in retaliation—his chest clothing split open, blackened lightning burns lingering on his skin, as he knelt half-bowed, groaning in pain.

Before Anne floated a pink crystal shield, which blocked most of the direct current—but beyond the shield, her limbs were still struck by lightning. Her palms and fingers were nearly charred to carbon.

Of the twelve mechanical arms in the living room, six were destroyed by the storm; the remaining six pierced through a newly carved hole in the ceiling, stabbing straight into the sky. More precisely, they struck Harley, who had attempted to transform into lightning and flee.

Drip.

Fresh blood streamed along the metal grooves of the mechanical arms, finally dripping onto the floor.

Harley hovered ten meters above the villa, her body pierced through by several mechanical spears, her head slowly drooping, her gaze gradually dimming, unconsciously recalling the image of her two crying, hungry twin babies at home.

In the real world, she had merely been an ordinary single mother. She got pregnant young, was abandoned by a scumbag, became a stripper, stabbed to death a night manager who tried to assault her, became a player, and was recruited by the Federal Bureau of Investigation—her entire journey had been a blur, pushed along by those around her.

In the end, she still couldn't escape.

The mechanical arm gave a light flick, discarding Harley's body like a broken ragdoll into the darkness.

The others remained stunned; Li Cheng was the first to react. He pulled a nuclear lighter from his backpack slot, adjusted it to level four, and inserted it into the hook gun's hook groove.

The nuclear lighter had five levels: level one produced flame equivalent to a regular lighter; level two matched an outdoor butane torch; level three equaled an oxy-acetylene cutter, capable of slicing through steel plates and coils.

Level four equaled a military flamethrower.

Li Cheng gripped the Bat Gun, aimed at the large hole in the ceiling, and pulled the trigger.

The hook shot out, carrying the nuclear lighter beyond the villa. The tiny lighter erupted into a narrow column of flame, illuminating the night.

Above the villa was not night sky, but a mosaic of joined LCD panels. These panels were welded beneath steel frames, interspersed with sprinklers and speakers—resembling a Hollywood film studio.

The hook gun flew upward until its kinetic energy exhausted, then fell under gravity, plunging back through the ceiling hole into the villa.

Li Cheng snatched the lighter mid-fall, snapped shut its metal lid, and extinguished the flame—no one knew what material it was made of, yet the metal casing remained icy cold, never warming from the fire.

"Cough, damn it."

Will, still half-kneeling, dragged himself up, ignoring his chest wound, drew his pistol, and aimed at Anne.

"Stop!" Leonardo seized Will's wrist and wrenched it upward—the bullet spun past Anne's head and struck the wall.

"Why are you stopping me?"

Will roared in fury: "This woman will kill us all eventually. Or are you in cahoots with her?"

"The reality show still has several segments. Killing her now means losing one 'scapegoat' slot."

Leonardo said calmly: "Besides, there's still that thing."

He nodded toward the ceiling—unbeknownst to them, the mechanical arms had already descended, their sharp metal spear tips now pointed at everyone inside, issuing silent threats.

Hummm—

The trackways buried elsewhere in the villa emitted servo-motor sounds, transporting more mechanical arms into the living room—to repair the damaged ones or fix the house.

Will gritted his teeth, his expression grim, but finally lowered his pistol, glaring hatefully at Anne: "Next round, she dies."

"Already impatient? I thought we actually had feelings. Break up after a dance—what a scumbag."

Anne straightened, retracted her crystal shield, shook her head seductively, and pulled ointment from her backpack slot, rubbing it onto her charred fingers.

Will ignored her entirely, turned, and walked away to his room to heal himself.

"Scumbag? You should've at least said something like, 'You think it is? Fine, if you wanna think that way, I can't stop you. Forget the facts—I'm just friends with her. I already apologized, what more do you want? That's not a strawberry, it's a mosquito bite.' That'd be more authentic."

Li Cheng muttered idly, staring through the ceiling hole at the darkened dome above.

From the high LCD panels, sprinklers, and speakers, it was clear this was no open wasteland—it resembled the massive studio from the movie "The Truman Show."

The studio covered the entire villa; when needed, sprinklers could spray water to mimic rain, and speakers could simulate external weather.

The question is: why?

Why set up a sealed space, preventing those inside the villa from seeing the outside?

Could this actually be outer space, or the surface of another planet? Or has Earth's post-apocalyptic weather system been so ruined that the clouds pour down lethal acid rain?

And what about the mutated beasts' roars outside the villa?

These questions remained unanswered—the ceiling hole was quickly repaired and sealed by mechanical arms.

Li Cheng's mind stirred—he seemed to have thought of something. He whispered quietly to Little Red Riding Hood: "Did you bring—"

He lowered his voice so the other players couldn't hear. Little Red Riding Hood's face showed surprise, but she nodded.

"Good. Get me a table and chairs ready."

Li Cheng gave a few instructions, then turned and strode toward the kitchen, opening the refrigerator.

Perhaps for sponsor footage, the fridge's chill compartment was stacked with empty bottles of Nucleo-Cola in various flavors: classic original, quantum flavor, cherry, lemon, vanilla.

Generally, players rarely consumed food or drinks from script worlds—partly due to fear of digestive upset, partly because the world's reality might differ, and the food or drink could contain strange substances.

There had once been a case where a Level 15 player, tempted by hunger, gorged himself in a script world, suffered severe diarrhea, and got one-shot by a missile while squatting on the toilet.

Thus, players almost always kept emergency rations in their backpack slots: compressed biscuits, energy bars, and the like.

Those with means even packed homemade lunchboxes made by their wives/husbands or children.

Li Cheng pulled out a cola and carefully scanned the ingredient list.

Water, high-fructose corn syrup, white sugar, food additives (carbon dioxide, caramel color, phosphoric acid, caffeine, sodium citrate, strontium isotope, dimethyl sulfoxide).

Found it.

(End of chapter)