Bab 11: Interlude: Dystopian Uproar
A Month After Virtuo's Incident (YGGDRASIL)
Amata the Unfortunate Transmigrator
«…another riot has started in Shimogyo-ku aroun—»
The ProScreen cut off, flickering to a new station in hopes of finding news that was not predictable and tedious.
«...stocks in the neural sector continue to plummet in the wake of the terrorist attack. Many are speculating whether this will spark yet another war. Yosef, what are your thoughts on all this...»
His attention shifted, his gaze swiveling to the reflector on his walls. There, he saw his mirror image— a man far removed from what he had been a month ago. Wild hair, sickly pale skin, sunken cheeks, and black eyes dulled by emptiness.
He had a stink to him, unwashed and powdered since his dream had been robbed at the precipice.
A flash of emotion coloured his face, rage bubbling in his heart like a hell-pit, but just as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced by regret and resignation and all the bitter feelings that came when one fumbled true happiness.
The memory was there, etched into his mind and twisted by foulness. When he slept, he saw the evil bastard laughing at him, belittling him, twisting his dreams and ending it all with a shower of blood and wailing souls.
Amata stood from his rest space and stumbled toward the cooler. He was too sober for all this crap. Glass bottles rolled off the ground as he walked, his apartment already a garbage site.
On his HoverView, the death toll brought to being by the evil bastard kept ticking up, the number already beyond sixty thousand. He had a message too, some inane wordplay that had the entire world in a panty twist.
Amata even heard from the forums that the farewell invitation that had seen YGGDRASIL gaining over five-hundred thousand players during the shutdown was his doing.
Premeditated. Indiscriminatory.
Eleven tycoons died, and more still lost their sons and daughters. The world was in an uproar, a new fear awakened for the virtual space. MegaCorps were at each other's throats, blame being flung around and assassinations being carried out for all the workers and investors involved with VirtuoTech.
VR was placed on a ban. Cybics were the new cancer.
He would have laughed, but it was just all sad and pathetic. No one knew what happened, everyone was scared. He of course knew, yet he still did not understand how the evil bastard roped that many players.
Reaching his cooler, he opened its innards to search for an intoxicant. That attempt was interrupted by a chime from his HoloCell— the old model— the tone of it customised to a singular individual.
His mole— the greedy fucker he had bought in the early days.
Amata immediately broke away from the empty cooler and brought the details of his communicator up his Link.
After the tragedy, after he had raged and cried and screamed, he had threatened the coward fucker to sent him a detailed report of what exactly happened to YGGDRASIL during the shutdown— more specifically to AOG and his own account. All this he did under threat of exposure.
There were a lot of people looking for scapegoats, after all.
『 Merlin, the investigation is still ongoing, but I managed to convert what we've already recovered.
Don't forget our agreement.
First, there's the game— YGGDRASIL. The main servers were hacked a month ago. The link was camouflaged and minuscule, so no one noticed it. Some of the game's code got copied— the makeup and structure— but nothing too significant. What was copied en masse was the game's lore and interactive mechanics.
A week after the siphon, the hacker injected new code into our latest update. It was camouflaged, cloaked. He changed the story of the game, adding some artificial junk that spammed nearly ten million words. History, wars, lore about mythic aspects, the history of magic, players, and all other background details.
What's crazy is that none of these changes interfered with or even interacted with gameplay. It's like he put more effort into the game's story than the original writers did. He even balanced out the inconsistencies— 99% of the content was artificially generated and judged— but the sheer drive behind it is ridiculous.
Anyway, here's a document on it [Corruption 1].
A week before the shutdown, there was another breach, this time on the player servers and core. I think this is where he hacked a lot of accounts. There was another siphon, pulling core data about classes and the creative mechanics. The Tomb of Nazarick was turned into some stupid kingdom named Elgroth.
This change was timed to take place just seconds before the shutdown (3 seconds).
The kingdom is actually polished and well-made, with over 500,000 NPCs, a proper government, diversity, religion, culture, nobility, and some other grim elements. There are creations that mirror some of the members and NPCs of A.O.G— some just in name and appearance, while others are exact one-for-one builds.
For finer details, check this [Corruption 2].
Now, here's the weird thing about this Elgroth: despite being a conversion of Nazarick, it doesn't exist in Helheim. Sure, it has a ton of lore connecting it there, but it actually exists in Vanaheimr, within some demi-plane that allows for semi-dual existence.
However, a second before the shutdown, it only existed in Helheim, in the exact same location where Nazarick used to be.
Honestly, none of us understand why the terrorist did all this junk. We don't see the connection between this and the cyber massacre. But the guys upstairs are furious, so we're going through everything three times over.
Aside from some heavy lore and restricted mechanics, there was nothing notable about Elgroth. Sure, the bloodline aspect was a ridiculous addition, but it was pretty much useless since the game was shutting down.
[Corruption 3]
A minute before the shutdown, the terrorist introduced a new World Class Item connected to all the dead players. He named it 'Dark Offering,' and its whole gimmick was that it killed its users after 66 seconds of its activation.
Obviously, we know this is the reason behind the massacre, but after examining and testing it, we found nothing out of the ordinary about it…』
His mind rang, overwhelm by the sheer breadth of the information here. So much convolution, planning, disregard, and espionage. A similar person as him, but one who saw this chance for what it truly was.
He already knew that, of course. But seeing it this laid out carved at his heart some more.
In his soul, Amata wondered where he had went wrong. His mind knew, and it echoed his idiocy whenever contemplation came to him.
Thus it did once more.
Second Chance.
When he had resurfaced in this reality after his life failed him, his joy was endless. Back then he did not know the nature of this world, only that it was incredibly advanced.
A weeb in his prior life, he had thought this was his isekai adventure. In his infancy, he had shouted all manner of invocations to activate his cheat— his magic system. Its nonexistence had not disappointed him much, and he proceeded with his life from there on, merely thankful for the opportunity.
A proper mindset now that he thought about it.
Then YGGDRASIL came out, and his dreams of an isekai came to him thrice as mad. He had read the self-inserts in his prior life, thus he knew the route to these things.
His first folly, one even the evil bastard had echoed to him as he undid a decade of preparations and anticipation.
Separation of Reality.
He let his wishes guide him, investing in rare items and hoarding all manner of things. He researched, contributed to milestones, and crafted himself perfection in the form of his avatar.
In this fever pitch, he had neglected his friends, his family. After all, this was only a preparation stop, his real destiny awaited him in a world full of magic and wonder. There he would be a god and do all the things those beta MCs never did.
That had been his second folly: overestimating his own intelligence and wisdom.
The years passed, and his moves were careful, precise. His foreknowledge was key after all, and he did not want it to turn useless. After a fashion— after contemplating the matter of timelines— he decided to join the OG guild. Ainz Ooal Gown.
The Blinds of Wish Fulfilment.
His admission was a simple affair, joining when the guild was in its dwindling days. He tried to fraternise with the original members, fulfilling a dream and etching memories to be shared with the NPCs after the transfer.
He met Peroroncino, sharing in the imagined and digital deviancy of his tastes. Then there was Tabula, who was enthralled by the freedom of creativity within the game. An artist at heart, one whose leave was inevitable.
Back then, he had wondered how their creations would react when he told them about the real reason why their creators left. He had laughed, shook his head before carrying on.
Time passed, and the members dwindled until there was only him and Satoru. During that time, he had become absorbed in the role playing aspect of the game. A story for his avatar, some tweaks and changes to his bio so that he became a better host.
He created his own NPCs…his wives, inspired by the characters from type-moon. Attentive, he believed they would be true replicas, if a bit gifted in other…departments.
Twisted Reality.
By then, the idea that he was the protagonist had already become factual in his mind. Satoru was too servant in his mindset, no backbone. Weak. Amata had thought himself benevolent when he twisted Albedo to love him— just in case his presence refrained that tweak.
A shame that, since Tabula's creation was such a fine piece. But he did not just let her be, injecting some conditions in her bio so when her madness came, he would be removed from it.
Then it was only a month before the fated day, thus he began to sketch his goals:
"What do I do with the Theocracy? Do I clown them? Maybe take their World Items and destroy their military. Those stupid cardinals will probably send Zesshi to kill me. I wonder how they will feel when I steal her from them."
Such had been his thoughts, indulgent. Free.
He settled for sadism, stealing their treasures and destroying their military. A fitting punishment for their racism and arrogance. The same fate he reserved for the Platinum Dragon Lord.
Broken Dreams.
And then the day arrived, and he was ready for his true adventure. He believed he had done everything right, ticking off every box for the perfect entry into his new life. He penned letters to his neglected friends and family, offering apologies and bestowing what remained of his monetary reserves.
Into the game he went, filled with smiles and anticipation. He had perfected his act, rehearsing every line. He would stand beside Satoru, next to the throne, until midnight…until the transfer. He had read about it countless times in his previous life.
When fiction became reality, he would feign surprise, shock. Yet, he would swiftly regain his composure, pragmatic and poised. He would converse with Satoru, advise him, guide him. He would be his trusted advisor, the affirmer of his confidence.
He would dismantle the misunderstandings, and enforce the most beneficial ones.
And then he would indulge, do so with fervour. He would charm his waifus and capture new ones for his collection. A dream awaiting…
…until it was not.
Amata lashed out, enraged at the crystal memory. His cybic arm caught the empty cooler, the reinforced limb sending it tumbling and dented.
He rejected the mad bastard's bloody wisdom. How was he to know that he was not the only reincarnation in this thrice damned world? How was he supposed to know that he was not the protagonist when everything aligned itself so perfectly?
Generic? Predictable? Foolish?
Again, his anger fled. And he was once more empty…hollow. Of course, he had contemplated this, rationalised his actions, but ultimately, he accepted that the evil bastard was right.
That did not mean he had to like it. Or appreciate the evil that bastard had done to him.
His dream was shattered, denied even as he cried and begged. Twelve years wasted. Millions of yen stolen. And his second chance, somehow, was more cursed than the first. Whatever ROB had sent him here must have been a real sadistic bastard.
What exactly had been the lesson here? Amata did not know. What he did know was that some bloody discount Cocytus was banging his Irisviel.
"Fuckin' pathetic, man. The bastard didn't even have the balls to add them to his harem, or even make one in the first place." He laughed, yet there was no mirth to it.
His waifus, given to discount replicas. Pure nonsense. He truly hated that dream-denier, and hoped he got cucked to high heaven. What kind of self-insert did not even try to replicate the actions of the original main character?
Of course, Amata knew that his grievances were too foolish. Trying to live a story was never going to be possible, reality was too much of an asshole. He just wished he knew that before YGGDRASIL.
It took him another eight hours to read all the content the evil bastard had brought to the game before the shutdown. It was plenty, careful, and in some cases very wise. A lesson learned— a bloody lesson he should not have learned this way or even here.
Shouts came from the stairs, screams and cries and gunshots. An expected outcome. He had known that his days were numbered, there was so much of a trail connecting him to the terrorist bastard.
Amata stood on his window, feeling the acidic stink kill his lungs and nose both. "In my next life, should fate be kind— a doubtful thing— I will be more careful and methodical, foreknowledge or not."
A blast from his apartment door, and he jumped, head first.
Along the way, he felt something bite into his right foot, fortunately it seemed death was too eager to claim him.
———
Akihito the Traqueur
«…breaking news: It has been reported that the chief executive officer, Satoshi Inoue, of OptiMind Solutions' Okayama prefecture branch has resigned amidst speculation surrounding the potential closure of the...»
The lobby front was amassed with people hollering and screaming at the ProScreen where a slightly sagged news anchor relayed the filtered broadcast to the disgruntled sheep. This time it was about another neural company shutting down after YGGDRASIL's fuck up…
Akihito pushed through the amassed people, his half-enhanced cybic frame allowing him the proper strength and intimidation factor for the action many would dubbed rude.
And few so did find offence with him, echoing their distress and trying to push back. Yet a mere glance from his bionic gaze and a growl was all it took to cower the bastards to their usual sheep state.
"Worthless!"
He tightened his grip on his caser, and gave a look around for the lift. It was on the north wing stuffed with people too impatient to wait for a turn and too lazy to take the climb. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and opted for the stairway.
He found them barren for the most part— a few bodies here and there, and some rat traps in the corners lured with rotted greenies. Not a bad sight, he decided, this was more so when one considered that Vloka was a developing hiver.
Akihito had seen worse down the slums of Kyoto— cannibalism, decaying prostitution, mutated kids, and bloody drug siphoning.
'Fuckin' imagine getting your high stolen.' He shook his head, crashing a corpse of a rotted mice in his ascend. 'It was some bloody monster people those gangers down Kyoto.'
He finally came by the final foor of the building through way of the public stairs and renter's wander. Unfortunately, Akihito was not here to survey apartments, he was here for a job, and that job took place on the building's roof.
The door on the west side was reinforced with thick steel and a biometric security system. A pair of self-automated turrets loomed in front of the door, with yellow tape marking a warning zone and red indicating a kill zone.
It was all so pathetic.
The traqueur began his walk in that direction, his gait confident and relaxed. The TheoSlicer built into his right arm's implant sprang to life, its nano-thorn edge glowing red with smoldering heat.
Upon his step to the yellow mark, the turrets tried to jerk to life but failed, their control high-jacked by his myndar. One would think people would start waking up to the faulty state of the mainstream cybics with the recent incident still fresh and haunting.
His ObliqVue pried through the door and showed him the imagery of the other side— there was no one acting guard. Akihito's TheoSlicer blurred and stung into the door, the heat of his implant turning it into molten. He dragged it to the locker, destroying the security and ensuring a permanent breach.
"Rozzers!"
Unfortunately, he was not silent with his entry, thus the gangers heard the destruction. They shouted and ran and geared, making a ruckus up the stairs all the while…
The traqueur did not mind them, deliberate with his own preparations. The carver retracted into the implant, a mini-bluster taking its place. He felt it connect to his neural link, the merger subsequently activating his violent rager. All items on his person were evaluated and given combat rating— sequences in which they could be used as weapons or defensive.
He looked up, the peek function on his optic cybic showing a total of six men— three of which had mild cybic enhancement— waiting for him upstairs with ancient gats and wolfram rods as their primaries.
'This shouldn't be difficult.'
Stealth took him, and the building's lights went into seizure.
———
It was a slaughter, swift and forgettable. And although the gangers were not his primary target, they would serve well as a mirror smoke for the investigation that would follow.
Probably.
He continued up the stairs and ultimately reached his vantage point. He quickly made his approach, cloaking himself and monitoring the apartment were his target resided.
Akihito sighted the apartment where one of the accomplices of the cyber-terrorist lived.
A man in his late thirties, accompanied by a woman and a child—likely between 5 and 7 years old—walked around the apartment, oblivious.
The rogue traqueur frowned at the sight. He was not an idiot, at least not a total one. The YGGDRASIL incident, no matter how vast its encompassment and echoes were, was a one man job.
One man who was extremely talented in cyber-infiltration and conversion.
The rich grieving bastard— the individual whom he was currently under their employ— was just mad that his spoiled brat got offed by the terrorist and was now just lashing out at everyone he knew played the accursed game.
Mr. Kato over there just so happened to be one of those individuals. Worse, he was the former member of Ainz Ooal Gown, Touch Me. Which was just so fucking unlucky.
Unfortunately, that meant there was a lot of money on his head.
…and the traqueur was not passing up on it.
He pulled up his caser, and started to assemble the X-117 ChronoDestruct. Yes, there were going to be casualties. A lot of them.
Akihito had read the reports on the servers' infiltration and rewrites to the system. It did not make any sense, not to Kai nor to developers and moderators of the game. How could tampering with the game's mechanics result in the death of more than 50,000 divers?
And from the many surveillances it seemed they all died at the exact same moment. Something that was near supernatural.
Yet that was not the worst of it.
The bloody hacker who committed the act had previously been reported dead at the hands of Misaka's men. This occurred after a failed attempt to evade their pursuit, following the siphoning of close to six hundred million yen from right under their noses.
It almost felt like a badly rewritten comedy. Not only botching an assassination but also being piss-poor at counting.
"Fuckin' clowns a lot of them." He swore loudly, subsequently disengaging the peek effect of the optic implant.
His left ear crackled with noise, a broadcast from his partner. «Oy, Akihito? I got something on one of the targets.»
They had reverted to the old tech in most of their equipment, unwilling to depend on the lacklustre security of the new tech, not after the incident.
It was not exclusive to themselves.
Just about every traqueur switched gears after the incident became public. Trust in the neural corporations had plummeted, and their grasp on power was slowly weakening.
The masses were rioting, and the opposition— of which the loudest was the revolutionaries— were promising a return to the old ways, to the days of freedom and prosperity.
He honestly did not understand what those clown fucks spouted half the time, nothing changed from the old days. But man was a foolish creature, thus despite the nonsense, the rebels grew in numbers.
"Relay the information." He replied to his partner with a simple tap to the earpiece.
«The developers had been able to recover some of the data concerning Ainz Ooal Gown before the 'wipeout'. It appears a day before the shutdown, two of its original forty members were logged in.»
The traqueur did not know much of the game YGGDRASIL, but after a month of research and investigation, he had a good grasp on it, at least on the altered mechanics and the guild in which the breach echoed from.
Ainz Ooal Gown, formerly known as Nine's Own Goal, was one of the top-ranked guilds within the game space, boasting the highest danger rating regarding conquest and elimination. Originally led by a world-whatever player who later passed the mantle to a skeletal player.
According to official data, the guild exclusively recruited seasoned individuals— financially independent and often lacking in social skills.
It became legendary within the game's community after repelling attempts by other players to conquer it, thus being dubbed the unconquerable player dungeon.
Again, official data showed that the guild had a shitton of its game breaking items where others had ones and twos.
"Who were these players? Give me their game identities and regular identifications."
«Yeah, the first one is Momonga, the guild master. Real name: Satoru Suzuki. He was found dead within his apartment a week after the incident with our terrorist body linked into his virtual account.» There was something appreciative within his partner's tone. «The guy had some crazy gear setup. I wouldn't be surprised if he had the entire game code on his person at all times.»
Akihito already knew that, about the terrorist being found dead in an deteriorating apartment north of the city of Sapporo. Though he did not know the apartment belonged to the guild master of Ainz Ooal Gown.
Still, he wondered why the man decided on that approach. It seemed wholly unnecessary.
"Why is VirtuoTech Systems suppressing this information?" He asked.
«Dunno, probably to hide something. You never truly know with these big businesses. Much help that will do them now.»
Akihito agreed. A lot of important people died in that disaster, family members and heirs of Mega Corporations. There was no getting out of this.
Not for VirtuoTech and its associations.
He urged his partner to continue.
«Ah, yes. Next on the list is Merlin Pendragon, a later comer to the guild. Real name: Amata Nakamura. He was a guy in his early thirties who lived in Fukuota and worked as a programmer for some backwater company. He was a real YGGDRASIL enthusiast, wasting half his paycheck on useless roleplay items within the game and quick to snatch up any store-bought rare items.»
«But what's more interesting is that he was in contact with one of the developers at the game's offices. He used to send massive bribes to him for information about item locations and whatnot while the game was at its peak.»
Akihito hummed, listening.
«What's more interesting is that a day before the shutdown, he sent close to 1 million yen to this developer because this dude wanted to add some really deviant shit to his created avatar and NPCs.» There was a chuckle. "
«Fuckin' degenerate, man. You'd think the dude was one of those crazies who believed in virtual Jesus.»
"Kai!"
«Sorry,» His partner was still laughing. «Anyway, during the day of the closure, he logged in for a few minutes before exiting a moment or so before the shutdown. What's crazy is the subversion started immediately after he logged out. The servers got hacked, AOG converted into a pseudo-medieval age weird kingdom, nearly half the players within the game got anchored to some new suicide world item, and everything went to shit.»
He was reminded that Kai was one of the people who had played the game in the past— during the days when it was the greatest VR immersion game— but he was quick to switch to newer better games as time went on.
He had even shown interest in reengaging during its last moments, as was the same with many who joined up. Unlucky bastards.
"Where is he now?"
«Dead as of this morning. The fucker botched a suicide and was stuck in a coma. I'm guessing Virtuo's men got to him.» There was a pause, «There's a new huge bounty on all of the remaining 38 Members of AOE.»
That was bound to happen.
"So what's so important about all this?"
«There's the thing.» Kai cackled like a possessed man, «There's fuckin' 39 remaining members. It's the 41 supreme beings of Nazarick, that fuckin' degenerate posted a private announcement on his VB.»
Akihito looked at his assembled weapon and back at their target.
"How wide spread is that information?" He asked. There was no need to risk discovery for something that was common knowledge in the underbelly.
«I got it from our targets device. I don't think it's widespread. I'm pretty sure Virtuo is going to suppress the information on their part.» Kai paused, doing something, «I'm going to siphon the data from the servers and destroy the ConnectLink and HoloView. We are using the old ways, baby!»
"What about Mr. Kato?"
«Torture the fucker to verify all these names,» Akihito's ancient device rumbled. «Make sure to record it, we are going to need some proof when we pawn the information to the old powers.»
He hummed, deciding to disassemble his monstrosity. "So who's the diver who's being protected?"
«Give me a minute,» Kai said. He took less time than that, «Oh, Player name: Amanomahitotsu. Real Name: Satoshi Inoue.»
Akihito's eyes widened, "OptiMind's heir?"
«The one and only.»
=======
The Saint: This will be a one-time thing. Check chapter 9 if you aren't sure what's going on here. But to dispel any major misunderstandings, Amata, just like the MC, was a transmigrator. As you can see, he decided to take the generic route. These are the consequences of his hubris. A squandered opportunity.
But then again, the MC didn't exactly get what he wanted also.
Honestly, the idea behind this was to try and show the foolishness of generic wish fulfilment cliches. Take away the cuddling and you'll be left with an extremely pathetic individual.
Anyway, I've three additional chapters on my Pa-treon under the same name if you are interested. Do leave a comment or two if you find any particular part of this interesting or inconsistent.
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