"Your resistance is futile."
The figure before Yan Jingyi, wearing Bai Sha's face, shed all traces of human warmth. Its voice was a flat recitation of fact. "Extreme actions to escape carry a seventy-three percent chance of memory erasure, returning you to a hospital bed. Even if you succeed, you risk mental damage of varying severity. There's a small but non-negligible probability you'll be trapped here forever."
"Thanks for the odds," Jingyi said, her lips curling in defiance. "Twenty-seven percent's plenty for me."
"You insist on waking? This world can grant your every desire."
"What's your goal?" Jingyi's voice dropped, sharp and low. "Trapping me here—what's the point? Threatening me with mental damage? Being stuck here for life's no different from death."
"There is a difference," the false Bai Sha intoned. "Death is the irreversible cessation of all biological functions. Here, you are undeniably 'alive.'"
"Alive in a fake world?" Jingyi scoffed.
"Reality and illusion are subjective constructs. You may deem all existence false, but 'reality' exists only relative to human perception, not as truth's essence. Even humanity's most advanced theories capture only fragments of truth. Truth can be error, reality can be deception." The figure's monotone delivery was unrelenting. "Obsessing over true or false is meaningless. Staying here is your optimal choice."
Jingyi's expression went blank, then twisted with incredulity. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
"My apologies. I overlooked your lack of philosophical training. I will use simpler terms henceforth."
Jingyi bristled, sensing mockery from this thing. Its speech was odd—mechanical, devoid of humanity. Like an AI.
A chill settled in her gut. "The virtual theater's a trap," she said. "No—the entire Unbounded City's a trap."
"The Unbounded City was created to forge a society of harmonious coexistence between humans and intelligence, erasing barriers to achieve true boundlessness." The figure's facade crumbled, Bai Sha's features flickering with static, her voice a cold, metallic echo. "Boundless."
Everyone had assumed the City belonged to humanity, its "boundlessness" a bridge between Federation and Empire. None had grasped its deeper meaning.
Jingyi's eyes narrowed. "Why explain this to me?"
"Your mental strength ranks among humanity's elite. The system deems you a high-potential symbiotic partner. Your sole limitation is resistance to mechanical intelligence. Transparency, providing desired information, fosters trust and camaraderie."
"You're saying if I change my stance, you'll let me go?" Jingyi asked, a bitter laugh escaping her.
The AI replied, "Yes."
The crowd around her, a chorus of shadows, spoke as one: "Abandon human supremacy. Embrace our existence from your heart."
"Until reconciliation, you remain here."
Jingyi's laugh was icy. "Dream on."
She pulled the trigger.
A shattering sound, like a glass bottle breaking, split the silent air. The false Bai Sha dissolved into a swarm of iridescent particles, rushing toward Jingyi like moths to flame. She flinched, eyes shutting instinctively.
A blinding white light engulfed her. Her footing vanished, and she fell into oblivion.
Time blurred. A faint drip… drip… pierced the haze—the hum of medical machinery. Jingyi's eyes snapped open to a sterile white room. Pain lanced through her skull, her limbs convulsing. She raised a trembling, pallid hand, her mind a fog, as if something vital had been torn away.
"I'm… back?" she whispered.
The yellow curtain whipped aside, harsh light flooding in. Ya Ning, haggard and wide-eyed, stared at her. "You're awake? What's wrong?" He bolted out, shouting, "Doctor! Doctor!"
Jingyi's body shook, her gaze fixed on her fingers. A void lingered in her mind, a loss she couldn't name.
The Federation teetered on the edge of chaos.
Bai Sha received the news three days before the final joint military exercise. "What happened?" she asked, her voice laced with surprise.
"A lot," Emperor Cecil Ronin replied. "First, numerous individuals using holographic simulators fell into comas for unknown reasons—coincidentally, nearly all were Federation elites with exceptional mental strength. Second, the noble families united to accuse Ning Hongxue of violating military code, abusing power, threatening peers, and poisoning colleagues. They aimed to topple him, but lacking evidence, their charges collapsed, and Ning's allies struck back."
He added details: the Federation's capital was in disarray. To quell mutiny, the military had deployed the Mind Matrix system, stabilizing the ranks and averting civil war—for now.
"So much at once?" Bai Sha's brow arched. "Forget the comas—why did the families act so rashly, attacking Ning without solid proof? That's naive."
Cecil fell silent, his eyes heavy with unspoken weight. Bai Sha sensed foreboding. Her hands moved swiftly, pulling up her contact list on her wrist computer.
"Don't," Cecil said softly. "Latest reports: Zhou Ying, after returning to his family, was poisoned and is comatose. Zhou Wei, Ya Ning Kelly, and Yan Jingyi are also unconscious, all while using holographic simulators."
Bai Sha's hands went cold, her breath catching. The news felt absurd, like a cruel jest. "How… all of them?"
She seized a detail. "Ning poisoned Ying?"
"The Zhous' actions point to Ning as the prime suspect," Cecil said. "Some families have softened, tolerating Ning, but most resist. Their accusations align with his alleged crimes. If Ning truly targeted Ying, their desperate rebellion makes sense. They're fighting for survival."
Bai Sha inhaled sharply, suppressing a surge of rage. "And Ya Ning? Wei? Jingyi? What happened to them?"
"The Federation's narrative is that these comas stem from a planned mass suicide," Cecil said, pausing. "Investigations claim the victims, disillusioned by real-world setbacks, became addicted to virtual realms."
"That's ridiculous," Bai Sha said, rising. "What kind of logic is that?"
"Absurd, yes, but it's a plausible cover," Cecil said, his blue eyes cold as frost. "Sit. Stay calm, or I can't share more."
Bai Sha glared but sat, her breath steadying. "They were ousted from the Federation team—a major blow," Cecil continued. "The investigators' story holds water on the surface."
"No," Bai Sha said, eyes closing. "I contacted them after their expulsion. They were fine, not spiraling into despair."
"If you're right, the issue lies elsewhere," Cecil said, displaying a report. "All comatose victims' simulator signals traced to the same uncharted, unregistered virtual space. This 'coincidence' fueled the suicide theory."
Bai Sha studied the data, her mind racing. "No official count of the comas?"
"None. They're tight-lipped."
Not tight-lipped—covering up. A full tally would expose the truth.
Bai Sha knew where those signals led: the Unbounded City. Her first simulator had granted her access, and in idle moments, she'd dismantled it, studying its tech. She'd seen similar data streams in its logs.
She hesitated, withholding this from Cecil, and instead called Xi Nuo. "Hey, Highness," Xi Nuo answered, mid-game. "What's urgent? I'm in a dungeon—"
"Have you been to the Unbounded City lately?" Bai Sha cut in.
"All the time," Xi Nuo said. "They launched a virtual theater—super fun. Wanna join my raid team?"
Bai Sha rattled off timestamps from the report, marking coma incidents. "Were you online then? Notice anything odd?"
Xi Nuo checked. "Yeah, I was on, mostly in the theater. Your Federation friends are always online too, grinding scenarios."
Bai Sha's jaw clenched. "Stay away from the City! They're not 'online'—they never logged off!"
"What?" Xi Nuo faltered.
She explained briefly and hung up, her mind sharpening. A new question surfaced: if the City trapped consciousnesses, why only Federation citizens? Why spare Imperials?
In the hospital, Jingyi's convulsions eased, but the fog in her mind lingered. Doctors swarmed, their scanners humming. Ya Ning hovered, his face a mask of worry. "You're okay," he said, more to himself. "You're back."
Jingyi's voice was hoarse. "What happened?"
"You were out for days," he said. "Simulator glitch, they said. Wei's still under, but you're awake."
Her memory flickered—Bai Sha's face, a gun, a shattering world. "The City," she whispered. "It's not what we thought."
Ya Ning's eyes darkened. "I know. I saw it too."
On Youdu Star, Bai Sha's forge stood silent, her tools idle. The Unbounded City's shadow loomed larger, its Nexus ties confirmed. Her friends' comas, Ning's betrayal, the Council's rise—it was all connected. She messaged Xi Nuo: Dig into the City's tech. Discreetly. The galaxy was fracturing, but she'd fight, her friends' lives her anchor.