Chapter 6: Something’s Wrong

“There’s a super pretty blue dragon girl?” Zhang Cheng suddenly raised his voice on the call.

“Hey, can you focus on the main point? I was just getting to the bloodline transformation ritual,” Lu Qiuchen said, clearly dissatisfied with where his friend’s attention was going.

“Come on, that bloodline transformation thing can’t possibly be more important than a dragon girl. Tell me all about her—details!”

“It’s called a bloodline conversion ritual,” Lu Qiuchen said helplessly. “Besides, I made a dragon girl too—super cute.”

“Oh please, with your taste? Tsk tsk tsk…”

Lu Qiuchen clenched his fist. Just from the tone, he could already imagine that punch-worthy smirk on Zhang Cheng’s face.

“Alright then, guess I won’t mention how the bloodline conversion ritual can turn your character into a pureblood dragon.”

“Holy crap—Kid! No! Morning Bro, I was wrong, please continue, go on!”

Hearing Zhang Cheng give in, Lu Qiuchen showed a hint of smugness on his face.

“Don’t get your hopes up. This is only available to players with dragon blood.”

*****

“…So I logged off after reaching the mountain. That’s everything that happened.” Lu Qiuchen relayed his in-game experience while munching on takeout.

“Damn, Kid, you’re really something. I wanna delete my character and reincarnate as a half-dragon now,” Zhang Cheng said with a face full of envy—unfortunately, it was already too late.

According to Eternity World Corp., the developers of Eternity, the game emphasized realism to an extreme degree.

Even in the instructions for applying to the test, it clearly stated that, just like in the official release, players in the closed beta could only create one character.

Even if they deleted their account, they wouldn’t be allowed to make another.

This interview had caused a stir at the time, provoking widespread debate.

Most gamers were extremely unhappy, and mainstream public opinion viewed it as a mere gimmick—one that would ultimately damage the company more than help it.

In this era where even logging into a game required iris authentication, a deleted character really meant a permanent goodbye to the game. There was no such thing as coming back.

“I’m done talking to you. I’ve eaten, now it’s time to rest up and save my strength. I’m logging in early tomorrow to push the storyline!” Lu Qiuchen admitted, just one afternoon in and he was already completely hooked by Eternity.

No other game had ever made him feel this passionate.

“Why wait until tomorrow? Just log in now. I’ll be logging in later too—let’s add each other as friends first.”

Lu Qiuchen rolled his eyes.

“You seriously haven’t read anything about the game’s world setting, have you? Eternity is the first full-dive VR game, and a lot of things are different from traditional games. The in-game time is completely synchronized with real-world time. Tasks meant for tomorrow won’t be available tonight.”

“There’s even something like that? That’s insane. Doesn’t that mean if I pick up a time-limited quest that’s due tomorrow and I can’t log in, it’ll expire the next day?”

“Bingo! You got it. That’s the core difference between Eternity and not just single-player full-dive games, but all games, period. Think back—what’s the slogan Eternity uses?”

“What was it again? ‘Your Second Life’?”

In the end, Lu Qiuchen was dragged online by Zhang Cheng. After they added each other as friends in-game, Zhang Cheng logged out, cursing under his breath.

There were two reasons for this.

First, Zhang Cheng discovered that the current friend system only allowed viewing a friend’s online status and location. Even friend voice chats were still locked.

Second, he realized… he was still in prison. It was already late at night, and the cellmates who’d been with him earlier were gone. So were the two guards who had been patrolling the corridor. The entire cell was shrouded in darkness.

In the distance, the torch in the hallway flickered weakly, the flame about to die out. Gusts of wind made the light dim and flare intermittently.

Its hazy glow danced along the stone walls, casting shifting shadows and giving the quiet prison an eerie, unsettling feel.

Zhang Cheng tried shouting for the guards, but no one answered. He tried opening the cell door a few times to no avail. With no progress and nothing to do, he could only log off.

*****

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Lu Qiuchen lay on the guestroom bed, staring up at the sky through the semi-transparent ceiling.

In the heart of Dragon Island, visitors were rare in the territory of the elder dragons—especially the territory of the Silver Dragon clan.

As a result, the entire guest wing, including the reception lodge halfway up the mountain, was brand new, having sprung into existence just a few seconds earlier that very evening.

In areas rich in ice or water elemental energy, silver dragons could cast magic with exceptional speed and power.

This building, constructed entirely from ice crystals, reflected the surrounding snow in a dazzling display.

Its exterior was adorned with geometric crystal ornaments that shimmered in the snow, making the whole place look like something out of a fantasy painting.

The only issue?

The architect was a dragon.

Andola, being a silver dragon, had designed this building according to a dragon’s aesthetic. As for human concepts like shame or privacy… those were foreign ideas.

This was exactly the dilemma Lu Qiuchen now faced. Everything else was great—especially the magic-forged ice crystal bed, which wasn’t cold at all but instead pleasantly cool against the skin.

But the problem? The building was semi-transparent.

Doing his best to ignore that detail, Lu Qiuchen opened the system interface and began reviewing his character panel.

Nickname: Lu Qiuchen
Level (LV): 1 (EXP: 1/200)
Race: Half-Dragon (Silver Dragon Bloodline)
Class: None
HP (Health): 221 / 802
MP (Mana): 300 / 300

“Interesting. There are no traditional RPG stat points. That makes things look simpler on the surface, but actually adds to the difficulty. Without clear numerical stats, progress feels more obscure.”

He made a mental note as he scrolled down.

His character currently had only two general skills:

Resurrection – Passive Skill

When a player’s HP reaches 0, they will resurrect at a bound resurrection point. Cooldown: 12 hours.
If the player dies during cooldown, they will automatically resurrect once the cooldown ends.

Existence Maintenance – Passive Skill
If a player logs out while HP > 0, their character will remain in the game world. The system will take over management of the character, making them unselectable and immune to attacks from players. Minimum HP remains > 0.

Here is the translated passage, following your formatting rules (thoughts in italics, dialogue in “quotes”):

Lu Qiuchen frowned deeply after reading through her character panel. In Eternity, the character remained in the game world even when the player logged off, with the server taking over for basic management.

That was fine when player numbers were low—but with a company like Eternity World putting so much effort into the game, their ambitions were clearly massive.

Once the player base reached hundreds of millions or more, just having the system manage offline characters would require a tremendous amount of computing power. Isn’t that just asking for trouble?

She couldn’t figure it out no matter how she thought about it, so she decided to just let it go and get some sleep.

The next day arrived quickly.

Lu Qiuchen got up early, ate breakfast, and poured nutrient fluid into the designated chamber at the base of the game pod. She was fully prepared to spend the whole day fighting in the game.

“One pouch of nutrient fluid supports six meals for an adult male. Cleaning fluid’s topped up too,” Lu Qiuchen confirmed once more.

If players wanted to use the pod’s automatic waste disposal and cleaning functions, they had to enter completely naked and properly wear the sanitation gear around the waist-to-thigh area.

If it wasn’t worn or if the equipment malfunctioned, the system would send a reminder: [Stop playing and take care of your bodily needs first.]

Once everything was ready, Lu Qiuchen reentered Eternity.

The sky was just beginning to brighten as she followed the Silver Dragon King, Impart, into the same valley where the meeting had taken place yesterday.

Alduin stood with his wings folded, still in the exact spot as the day before.

Unlike yesterday, only Alduin and the Black Dragon King, Tupac, were present. The ground beneath Alduin’s feet had become a brown stone surface etched with a massive magic circle.

“All preparations are complete. We can begin once you’re ready,” Tupac reported to Alduin before turning his massive head toward Lu Qiuchen, silently asking for confirmation.

When she nodded, Alduin stepped away from the center of the formation, making room for Impart and Lu Qiuchen.

Walking up onto the stone platform, Lu Qiuchen was stunned to find the magic circle actually suspended in midair. The stone beneath it had been hollowed out with precision matching the size of the array.

Inside the cavity, a blood-red liquid flowed along the carved patterns, its crimson glow intertwining with the blue light radiating from the array.

Impart gestured with a nod for Lu Qiuchen to stand at the center of the circle. Once she was in place, Impart spread her wings wide as light-blue magical energy surged from her entire body, gathering into a sphere at her chest before being channeled into the formation.

Lu Qiuchen felt her blood begin to heat up rapidly, as if about to boil inside her veins. Her head throbbed painfully, ready to burst.

The girl’s delicate face twisted in agony. Her whole body flushed red, the skin on her arms and legs cracking open, revealing raw tissue underneath.

The excruciating pain left Lu Qiuchen unable to stand. She collapsed at the center of the formation.

Just then, Alduin let out a low growl. The magic circle rapidly shrank, compressing into a seal that embedded itself into the girl’s lower abdomen, disappearing beneath the skin. The blood-red liquid from the hollowed stone flew into the air, enveloping her entire body.

A searing pain exploded in her mind—unbearable, blinding. Lu Qiuchen passed out with a grimace of agony.

The ritual had ended successfully. As the sun crested the lowest ridge, a sliver of warm light spilled into the valley.

Standing with his back to the rising sun, Alduin’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

“The ritual was a complete success. I can feel it—this soul has entered the world.”