CHAPTER 74: CORE RULES OF SURVIVAL

The survivors felt their stomachs churn. Even without touching them, his presence pressed against their souls, suffocating and undeniable.

When he spoke, his voice was smooth, cultured, almost polite. Yet every syllable was laced with malice.

"Ah... survivors. Congratulations."

The words slithered into their ears, unsettlingly intimate, as though he were standing right behind each of them, whispering into their minds.

"You’ve endured the first trial. It’s truly commendable!"

"Impressive, given how... messy it all was. Still, I must admit—" his smile widened slightly, revealing a sharp row of teeth that was perfectly organized, "—I did not expect the first and second wave to end so quickly."

At that, unease rippled through the gathered survivors. They all thought of the same person, though none dared to say her name aloud. Ling Yu’s shadow still lingered in their minds, her figure burning into their memories as clearly as fire leaves scars on the flesh.

The gentleman tilted his head, as though savoring their silence. Then, dismissively, he waved a hand.

"No matter. The rules remain unchanged. The game must go on."

The holographic screen expanded, shifting into panels of glowing symbols and letters. A system interface that seemed otherworldly and overwhelming flashed before their eyes.

"Allow me," the horned man continued, his voice dripping with theatrical amusement, "To extend to you a warm... welcome."

The words WELCOME TO THE APOCALYPSE SYSTEM blazed across the sky.

The gentleman adjusted his tie, as though addressing a gala audience instead of half-dead, blood-soaked survivors.

"Listen carefully, children. The rules are very simple. Your peaceful world, as you knew it, has ended. What stands before you now is the System. It governs everything. It decides who lives and who dies. It rewards strength just like it punishes weakness."

He lifted a finger, and glowing text appeared in the air:

[Core Rules of Survival]

"Waves of monsters will descend upon you periodically. Each wave will be stronger than the last. Survive them, or perish."

"Between the waves, Dungeons and Events will appear across the land. Clear them for rewards, or leave them be and face starvation, plague, or worse."

"Death is permanent. No resurrections, no miracles. Once you fall, your body and soul will belong to the System."

The survivors shivered at the cruelty of the penalty. A few began to mutter prayers under their breath, but the horned man chuckled.

"Ah, prayers... how charming, but it’s useless. There are no gods here. Only sponsors."

With another flick of his wrist, new lines of text scrolled across the sky.

"Your performance will be judged at every turn. Complete the objectives that are given, kill monsters, clear dungeons, and you shall be rewarded. Fail, and the System will collect its due."

[Rewards]

[System Credits (currency exchangeable for food, weapons, skills, or survival necessities)]

[Stat Points and Skill Upgrades]

[Unique Items or Artifacts]

[Sponsorship offers]

[Penalties]

[Reduction in stats]

[Forced labor assignments in hazardous Zones]

[Soul Degradation (loss of humanity)]

[Elimination]

His smile sharpened, eyes glowing brighter. "Consider it an incentive, yes? The same old rule that you humans love to use so much: the carrot and the stick. Some of you will rise to greatness. As for the others..." he leaned forward slightly, and though it was only a hologram, every survivor felt the weight of his gaze, "They will be just fodder."

The screen shifted again, now showing rotating sigils that resolved into mission prompts.

"Each wave will be followed by missions," he explained. "These are mandatory. Complete them, or face the consequences."

The survivors leaned forward instinctively, even in their exhaustion, their survival instincts forcing them to memorize every word.

[Current Mission: Survival Phase – Between Wave II & Wave III]

[Gather resources for the next wave.]

[At least one dungeon must be cleared by each registered group before the third wave begins.]

[Minimum contribution thresholds must be met. Those who fail will be penalized.]

"Simple enough," the gentleman said smoothly. "Think of it as... exams. Pass, and you live. Fail, and you are expelled. Permanently."

At this, his expression shifted, delight flashing in his crimson eyes as though this was the part he most enjoyed.

"Ah, yes. The most delightful aspect of your little entertainment, the stream system."

He spread his arms, and glowing screens exploded outward around him, each one filled with incomprehensible shapes, flowing lines of code, and faces that flickered like static.

"Do you feel their eyes upon you? You should. For you are not merely survivors, all of you are performers who have a purpose to live for the sake of entertainment... of the higher beings."

The survivors stiffened, dread crawling through their veins.

"Sponsors from countless realms are watching you," he said, his tone honey-sweet. "They see your struggles, your triumphs, your humiliations. And they are invested. They will offer you contracts, power, or resources, only if you amuse them enough."

[Survivors may open live streams, broadcasting their struggles to the sponsor network.]

[Sponsors may provide gifts, buffs, or missions in exchange for entertainment value.]

[Survivor popularity determines the frequency and quality of sponsor offers.]

"Those who fail to gain sponsor interest... will struggle to survive."

A cruel smirk touched his lips. "Dance well, little puppets. The eyes of eternity are upon you. Some of you may find patrons who will raise you to heights you never dreamed of. Others will be abandoned, forgotten, and discarded. Such is the nature of spectacle."

The monument’s black sheen glowed brighter as the horned man’s smooth, chilling words rolled over the survivors. His crimson gaze swept across their faces, pausing as though he could see directly into the trembling hearts beneath.

For a moment, no one spoke. The crowd was still trying to process the enormity of what they had just been told: that their world was no longer their own, that every step, every breath, every decision was nothing more than spectacle for unseen beings.

Then, a man snapped.

One of the hunters roared in protest. His clothes were soaked with blood, and his face twisted with exhaustion and fury, he rose shakily to his feet.