Chapter 9: Sparta Prison (1)

Even when the dungeon officially began, Su Shisan was still wrestling with the task [Sparta] had given her.
To be honest, it was a bit of a headache.

If she couldn’t convince everyone to stay behind, it would mean persuading them to take the harder route—while she appeared to take the easier one herself.

What would that make her look like?

A manipulative coward. Even if the others didn’t think she was a traitor, no one would trust her after that.

But orders were orders. So she stood quietly among the players, pretending to scan the area like any other clueless newcomer.

The moment they entered the dungeon, the heavy iron door slammed shut behind them with a chilling finality.

They were now a group of prisoners being escorted into the world’s most secure prison.

At least, that was their cover story.

In reality, they were a death squad sent in on purpose. Their true mission?

Insert a custom virus-loaded USB into the prison’s central control system and cause a total breakdown.

But that wasn’t their task. The players had only one job—escape. Just one person making it out alive counted as a win.

Of course, destroying the prison would bring hefty point and item rewards… but fail, and the cost would be devastating.

Su Shisan kept her head down, blending in with the group as they marched into the prison. Meanwhile, her mind was spinning, strategizing how to convince the others to take the riskier route.

And it wasn’t going to be easy.

The armed guards looked formidable: all in black protective gear, helmets, earpieces, radios, bulging pockets likely holding pistols, and SMGs slung across their backs.

Su wasn’t sure how powerful B-rank players really were—but she doubted they could go head-to-head with modern firearms.

Searchlights swept the grounds from towering watchtowers in a flawless, synchronized rhythm, leaving no room for error.

Massive silver surveillance cameras stared down from every corner, and twenty-meter-high steel walls were laced with electrified fencing.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The true nightmare was that this was a sky prison—floating midair. The only way out? Hijack a fighter jet from the hangar.

Escape alone was hellishly difficult. Completing the advanced mission? Nearly impossible.

Still, [Sparta] had given her one day to prepare—and Su had already formed a plan.

They descended to the lowest level, trudging down grim gray corridors, past tightly sealed iron doors and disturbing oil paintings soaked in blood and darkness. Finally, they arrived at the cells.

As death row inmates, they were granted no luxuries. Just a shared concrete slab for a bed, a doorway barely half a meter tall, and thick solid walls. Only a single fist-sized window brought in the faintest hint of air.

And since the prison floated in the sky, that tiny window looked out into nothing.

It wouldn’t take long for the players to grasp how hopeless their situation was.

“Stay put and don’t try anything funny,” the lead guard barked.

“Or I’ll make sure you die miserably.”

Then he slammed the door and locked it tight.

A brief silence fell over the cell. Thirteen people were crammed into the tiny space, a few quickly claiming spots on the slab while others leaned against the walls, their eyes wary and alert.

Once everyone had settled in, a slick-haired man with a sharp gaze spoke up:

“I noticed something interesting on the way here.”

Everyone turned to him immediately. Though most had been observing along the way, few had spotted anything useful. Someone willing to share a clue was worth paying attention to.

In the corner, a woman with braided “scorpion” hair frowned slightly. She opened her mouth, then shut it again, pressing her lips together. She said nothing in the end.

The slick-haired man smirked and glanced around, eyes like a hawk sizing them all up.

“I’m not sure if you noticed the paintings along the corridor, but the one at the end… I think it was The Last Supper.”

Even those unfamiliar with art had at least heard of that piece—it depicted Jesus dining with his twelve apostles, and the story of one of them betraying him.

“Thirteen people in the painting,” he continued. “Thirteen of us in here. One traitor in the painting… maybe there’s one among us too?”

None of them were rookies. As B-rank players, their clue-detection instincts were sharp.

In a corridor lined with grotesque, bloody artwork, The Last Supper was glaringly out of place. The metaphor was hard to ignore.

“If one of us got a special mission, just say it,” the slick-haired man added, confidently.

“We’ll cover for you—help you finish it. Fair trade. No one here would mind that, right?”

He sounded sure of himself—and with reason. If they could control the threat a traitor posed, most players would be happy to trade a little reward for safety.

No one responded.

The man calmly ran a hand through his hair.

“Then it’s likely we’re not dealing with a player. We’ve got an NPC spy among us.”

Impressive. His logic was quick and precise. And from the lack of objections, it was clear everyone else agreed. No one here was a fool.

The scorpion-braided woman gave a small nod.

“I saw that painting too. I was going to quietly find the spy myself, to avoid turning everyone paranoid. But since the cat’s out of the bag—let’s expose the NPC.”

She clapped her hands. Instantly, three rats scurried out from the corner and squeaked at her feet.

With a slight smirk, she said, “Call me Lord. This is my ability—I can summon animals and give them basic commands.

As far as I know, NPCs don’t get powers like this. That should prove I’m a player, right?”

As the dungeon architect, Su Shisan could confirm: she was telling the truth.

NPCs didn’t have special abilities—they were just regular people, built into the story. If they had weapons, it was because the dungeon was set in a world without supernatural powers.

And the players didn’t have to show their full skills—just enough to be convincing.

The slick-haired man followed up immediately.

“You can call me Blackback. My power is Eagle Eye. Helps me spot useful details. You can test my vision if you want.”

With the two of them leading, others joined in.

A red-haired woman held out her palm and conjured a fireball.

“Fire Queen. I do fire.”

Next came a shy-looking girl whose power left everyone stunned.

“Split Second,” she murmured.

“My ability is… time stop.”

She glanced down shyly and pulled a crumpled paper ball from her pocket. Holding it up, she let go.

The paper froze midair.

“Only works in a small area,” she added.

One by one, most players demonstrated their powers.

Only three couldn’t: Blackback, AboutToDie, and SheetsAndBlankets.

Finally, it was Su Shisan’s turn.

She shrugged and said, “Call me Thirteen. My ability is to bind one non-mainline NPC and make them work for me.”

That caught some eyes. A useful power—if she could control someone important, she might lead them straight to an escape route.

But not everyone was sold.

Lord narrowed her eyes.

“That kind of ability… an NPC could fake it, right?”

She had a point. Su had long anticipated someone might notice that flaw.

But she put on a shocked expression, like she’d been blindsided. Then her face twisted into a mix of anger and hurt.

“You can judge by my NPC’s actions, can’t you?” she argued.

“If they’re genuinely helping us, doesn’t that prove whose side I’m on? If anything, mine is the least likely to be the spy!”

And that was true. Words could lie, but actions spoke louder. Suspicion on her waned, and eyes turned toward the others.

Blackback had raised the alarm about the traitor—but that didn’t clear him. Maybe he was just deflecting suspicion.

SheetsAndBlankets claimed he could instantly fall asleep and review everywhere he’d been in a dream—great for analysis, but not easy to prove.

And AboutToDie could fake death… but only once per dungeon. No way he’d waste it proving his identity.

“Well… sorry, but you four are still our top suspects,” Lord sighed.

She’d hoped to root out the spy quickly—but four unresolved cases remained.

Su Shisan didn’t mind. She had expected suspicion. In fact, she’d already planned for it.

Being doubted was all part of the setup.

Her next move?

“I’ve already bound the guard who brought us in,” she said with a casual smile.

“Anyone want to step outside the cell?”