Standing on the platform, Erik looked up. Dozens of heads slowly turned in unison, peering down from the bus windows.
Some were expressionless, others burned with hatred or envy. Some looked on the verge of tears… and others shared their seat with an identical face.
These were players who had perished in vengeance—now seated beside their own corpses.
Behind the closed doors, the neutral players who hadn't made it off the bus pounded on the glass in desperation, crying for help.
"Can we do anything?" Alice asked softly, her face filled with pity.
"There's nothing we can do. It's the rules of the instance," someone replied. "Maybe the passengers on this route are required to follow the driver's itinerary and explore every stop. If they failed, the bus won't let them off."
"I buried the urn! Why can't I leave?!" a man bellowed, his face twisted with rage.
On the ground, a woman burst into relieved sobs. "I thought I'd be trapped too! My urn was stolen—I thought I had failed!" Her ashes had been taken in the cemetery, the thief remaining hidden among the neutral players until the very end.
It was likely the man on the bus had stolen hers. Now, he couldn't disembark—while she was free.
Erik's expression turned complicated. She had begun to understand the nature of this instance.
These weren't just ordinary urns or nameless corpses. Each one was tied—deeply or faintly—to a player. Fate had brought them together, step by step forging a connection that could not be severed or stolen.
The bus, packed with its silent passengers—living and dead—rolled away.
The glowing circle on the platform banished the darkness in this small space.
"Eighty players… and only thirteen of us remain," Jax said with a bitter smile.
Erik sighed. "Look on the bright side—we're still here. Thirteen of us made it."
She stepped into the light and returned to the forest of stone pillars.
**\[Player Erik has cleared the supernatural instance: Bus Route 144. Reward: 44 points.]**
As soon as she returned, Erik left the task hall and headed to the inn.
Sure enough, the Women's Support Group members were gathered in the lobby. Natalie was nowhere to be seen, but Nicole was—Erik approached quickly.
"Nicole, is Natalie here?" she asked.
Nicole blinked, then her expression darkened. "You already heard, haven't you? Natalie… she died this morning, in one of the instances. I had someone wait all day at the hall, but she never came back. Time flows differently in the instances, but I've never seen one last an entire day. The other members who entered at the same time have all returned—except her…"
Natalie had vanished for an entire day. There could only be one explanation—she had died in the instance.
Erik remembered the dim, chilling graveyard… and the photograph etched onto Natalie's dark gravestone.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung. She couldn't answer Nicole's question.
"Are you okay? You look awful… Erik, please don't take it too hard," Nicole said gently, fighting back her own grief. "Natalie told me you were the first friend she made in the game. Even though you never officially joined our group, you've helped us in so many ways. The door is always open to you. Natalie may be gone, but we'll carry on her spirit—supporting each other, living not just for ourselves, but for her too."
Erik returned to her room and collapsed onto the floor, her mind blank.
That male NPC had said she'd saved Natalie. But Natalie was dead. She hadn't resurrected after the instance. Of course not—this game dangled the promise of resurrection like a carrot on a stick. Erik had never believed clearing a single instance could bring someone back to life.
Which meant that when she "saved" Natalie, Natalie must have been in a state even worse than death.
And Erik had only pulled her back *into* death.
A state worse than death—what could that be?
One word came to Erik's mind: **a fate worse than death**.
She had always avoided probing too deeply. When she was a newcomer, the max-level veteran Austin had warned her: *"This isn't a place for science. Curiosity gets you nowhere here."*
Erik had heeded that advice. She never questioned the game's logic. After all, being pulled into a supernatural survival game after death defied every natural law. How could anything built upon that foundation be deciphered?
But now, she couldn't stop thinking.
When players died here… were they reborn in the real world? Or were they forever trapped within the game?
The game never pretended to be generous. Players fought tooth and nail for points. Everything had a price—clearly marked and coldly enforced.
Would such a game offer its services freely?
Maybe the 4444 points required for resurrection weren't just for bringing someone back. Maybe they included "service fees" for participating.
And for those who died *before* they could earn enough—what then?
In the real world, there's an old joke: skip the bill, and you'll be stuck washing dishes. Could that rule apply here too?
The thought was terrifying.
Erik's blood ran cold.
Faces flashed through her mind—faces of NPCs from various instances. And among them… Natalie's face.
Erik shot upright, ran to the bathroom, and splashed her face with cold water. Staring at her reflection—wet, pale, haunted—she couldn't see the woman she once was.
What did she look like before she got sick? She couldn't even remember.
She only remembered the pain, the weakness—the way disease had turned her into a ghost of herself.
And now? Her body was strong. Her eyes, once dull and defeated, now held a steel-like clarity.
She had changed.
A thousand tangled thoughts surged through her. She sighed and cupped her face in water once more.
Then she showered. A new teammate had arrived today—Justin would probably host another small gathering.
After her nap, night had fallen. Everyone had assembled in the presidential suite—all five of them.
Justin grinned. "What do you feel like eating tonight? Go ahead and place your order."
Erik felt like having cold noodles, so she headed to the kitchen. As the ingredients arrived, she prepared them while listening to Sarah complain about her latest instance.
"It was *so* hard!"
"No kidding," Erik sighed. She couldn't help remembering the two supernatural instances she'd completed today.
"You should all write your instance experiences down when you have the time," Justin advised. "These are valuable resources we can pass along." He promised to give everyone a blank notebook for recording, then added, "Also, I got a bottle of wine. Let's try it together tonight."
Wine here wasn't cheap—Justin was splurging. Sarah beamed. "Great! I'll get some ice. It'll taste even better chilled."
Kevin had also received a basket of ingredients. He stood at the sink rinsing vegetables, while Erik quietly sliced cucumbers nearby.
In a hushed voice, Kevin said, "I tested him. He trusts Justin completely."
Erik didn't even glance up. Her eyes stayed on the cutting board. "Mm."
Before dinner, Erik found a moment to speak to Sarah about it. Sarah rolled her eyes. "He really managed to find someone *that* na?ve?"
"Justin will bring up the 444-point instance tonight," Erik said. He'd finally gathered the right people—he wouldn't wait any longer.
"I think so too," Sarah replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. The movement was graceful, but her eyes—like Erik's—were cold.
They exchanged a glance and nodded in perfect understanding.
During dinner, Justin started with tips and tricks for surviving instances. Then his expression turned serious.
"There's something I'd like to ask you all."
Wesley was stuffing his face. He couldn't cook, so Justin had prepared his meal too.
"Go ahead, Justin! Don't be shy!" Wesley said between mouthfuls.
With Wesley paving the way, Justin spoke directly.
He looked at Erik and Sarah. "When you joined, I told you our Mingyang Support Group has a special item that allows for team-based entry, remember?"
Erik remembered vividly—she'd been amazed at how wealthy and well-equipped the group was.
"A team-based item? That really exists?!" Wesley nearly jumped out of his seat.
"It does," Justin confirmed.
He placed a bronze key on the table. "This is the item."
Wesley snatched it up, eyes wide. "No way…"
"Take a look, all of you," Justin said cheerfully.
When Erik touched the key, a message flashed in her mind:
**\[Item: Key of the Immersive Instance]**
There was no prompt to bind it—it had already been claimed by Justin.
"Justin, what's an 'immersive instance'?"
"You all know the game offers two types of instances—normal ones worth 4 points, and supernatural ones worth 44 points. But there's a third type. A rare supernatural instance worth 444 points."
Wesley choked on his drink, coughing violently. The others reacted with staged surprise. Sarah quickly asked, "A 444-point supernatural instance? That's real?"
"Justin, you'd better not be joking!" Wesley wiped his mouth, though his eyes gleamed with anticipation. A 444-point instance—clear ten of those and you'd have enough to resurrect!
"I'd never joke about something like this," Justin said seriously. "Very few people know about it. Even fewer have access."
"So this key… the 444-point instance is a team-based one?" Kevin asked. "Is it a role-playing supernatural instance?"
"Is there a player limit?" Sarah added. "Don't tell me it's exactly five?"
Then Erik: "Justin, was the real reason you recruited us into Mingyang Support Group to form a team for the 444-point instance?"
One question followed another—especially Erik's.
Justin's smile didn't falter.
But the faint twitch at the corner of his eye gave him away.