Gamers Are Fierce-Chapter 717 - 715 Space
In the darkness, Bob Fox silently counted.
Twenty-five thousand three hundred sixty-one...
Twenty-five thousand three hundred sixty-two...
...
Name, Bob Fox. Age, 37. Birthday, 9/8/83.
Favorite color, red.
Favorite TV show, "Frontline."
Mother, Harry Fox.
...
Seventy-eight thousand nine hundred nineteen...
Seventy-eight thousand nine hundred twenty...
Name, Bob Fox. Age, 37. Birthday, 9/8/83.
High school, Harton High School.
Favorite sport, basketball.
...
One hundred thirty-four thousand two hundred thirty-five...
One hundred thirty-four thousand two hundred thirty-six...
Name, Bob Fox. Age, 37. Birthday, 9/8/83.
First girlfriend, Kelly. Kelly Winslet.
She was in the class next door. He'd plucked up the courage to invite her to the school dance, and she'd actually agreed with a smile.
Um... He still remembered the smell of the blue Toyota's rear seat, and the sweat on his forehead, his awkward smile when he couldn't unbuckle his belt...
But that night wasn't too bad, was it? She was gentle. If she hadn't moved away, maybe they could have been together...
...
Three hundred ninety thousand... how many was it again?
Forget it. Counting anymore is meaningless, Bob thought. He slowly picked up a bottle of water, brought it to his lips, and took a small sip.
The world was dim, deathly silent, tranquil. The only light came from a single red dot.
It was now his fourth and a half day in this world. Around the third day, he had felt he was about to break down, but somehow, he'd held on.
As time progressed, he began to gradually perceive his limbs again—touch, taste, smell... these senses returned, though still very weak.
Bob wasn't sure if the Pitch Black Space had returned his senses, or if he had always possessed these weakened senses, now reawakening simply because he had adjusted to the prolonged darkness and silence.
But this was not good news.
Regaining his senses, Bob was able to take items from his backpack inventory and also came to recognize his surroundings.
This was an expanse of space with extremely low, almost nonexistent, gravity. The space was dark and swallowed any internal light source Bob created with his equipment skills, except for that red dot.
Right, the red dot, he remembered.
The red dot was on a metallic cabinet as tall as a man. Its surface was smooth, devoid of buttons or bolts. It was extremely sturdy; no method, not even Bob's most powerful blow, could open it. Its purpose was unknown.
The cabinet stood on a patch of ground that was incredibly soft, like marshmallow, and capable of self-healing. If not for the almost nonexistent gravity, the metal cabinet would have sunk into the ground long ago.
The red dot was located on the front center of the cabinet. By the faint light it shed, Bob, his senses dulled, was able to drink water and eat.
His backpack inventory contained some survival supplies—compressed food and purified water—but the quantity was limited. I have to find a way out of this space before they run out, he thought.
With his pen, he marked a period on the paper. He had started recording everything that happened here. Even though it seemed meaningless, he still did it.
If I can get out, I won't need to pass this paper to others to help analyze and figure out solutions. If I can't get out, then the paper will probably stay in this space forever. Forget it, I won't think about it. Making some records is good. If I don't write something down to vent, I'll go insane sooner or later.
Bob slowly got up and turned to look in the direction opposite the red dot.
His backpack happened to contain a Mechanical device that kept time, so he no longer needed to count mentally. However, to check the time, he still had to return to the red dot. This damned place has no light at all, he thought.
Actually, by consuming Spiritual Power and observing the Spirit Energy Value recovery speed, I can also gauge the current time. However, the recovery efficiency of the Spirit Energy Value is influenced by the player's physiological and psychological state, so it isn't particularly accurate. In any case, it's time to set out.
...
Three weeks, three days, seven hours, fifty-eight minutes.
Three weeks, three days, seven hours, fifty-eight minutes.
In the light from the red dot, I can see my gaunt, pale face reflected in the clock's glass.
I have been moving across the ground of the Pitch Black Space for twelve days.
My means of transport—a motorcycle—ran out of all its energy on the first day. Since then, I have been walking.
No end. No end.
I used skills for orientation, so I'm quite certain I haven't been walking in circles or stuck in some kind of endless loop.
This damned space just simply has no end.
An exit...
Damn it, I must find an exit. There's not much food left.
...
Two months, one day, thirteen hours.
I just descended from above. Like going forward and backward, there was no end upwards either.
Why? 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖
Why did it have to be me?
Why could others draw benign slips, while I had to stay in this damned, inescapable space?
It's not fair.
Damn, damn, damn, damn!
Damn it...
The only option left is to dig downwards.
...
Three months, four days.
I just crawled out of the tunnel. I'm absolutely certain there's no exit downward either.
I made a careful food plan, but the supplies still decreased day by day.
The soft material that composed the ground was inedible. Eating it raw, steamed, or grilled—regardless of the cooking method—caused severe abdominal pain. It had no nutritional value and couldn't satiate hunger at all.
I tried planting crops in the ground, but this "soil" simply won't sustain life.
...
Three months, twenty days.
Everything that could be considered "food" ran out thirteen days ago.
I even drank the only bottle of Miniature Life Potion. Guess what happened?
It cured my malnutrition and made me even hungrier.
Now, with every word I write, I have to fight the urge to eat this paper.
Oh right, who was it? Li... Li Rising, right?
I also have to thank him; he sent a stack of paper, though the ink is running low.
...
Four months, seventeen days.
I will not die.
Sounds unbelievable, right?
I haven't eaten anything for nearly a month. I'm skin and bones, my hair is falling out, my lips are cracked. I am tormented by hunger and pain constantly—I suspect my internal organs failed and bled out long ago.
But I'm still alive.
Alive.
Damn.
...
I've found it! I've found it!!
That metal cabinet! No skill or equipment can damage it, but it can be affected by my own body!
Understand?
I can scrape marks on it with my fists, with my teeth, with my own bones!
Inside, there must be something hidden—maybe a door! If I open it, I can get out!
Wish me luck!
...
During this time, I've been scraping the surface of the metal cabinet with my fallen teeth.
Honestly, I'm scared to look in a mirror now—who knows what I've become... I feel like my right hand is starting to peel off like an onion.
The good news is that I have scraped a crack into the metal cabinet. When I blow into it, I can hear a hollow sound.
It's hollow inside.
...
My left hand is broken.
I tried to use some materials to make a bandage and wrapped my fractured left hand against my chest.
But it's pointless. My body has started to decay. I can even poke my fingers through holes in the skin of my abdomen and touch my internal organs—the blood in my abdominal cavity ran dry a week ago.
It smells so bad, really bad.
Blood has pooled on my body, dried, and coagulated like a layer of armor. It's on the ground too.
If I'd been determined earlier to use my own body to cultivate crops, maybe I could have grown potatoes?
Can potatoes grow in flesh? I don't know.
There are no flies here. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
On one hand, I don't have to worry about my body being overrun with maggots.
On the other hand, flies and maggots could at least provide some protein, and some noise.
The metal cabinet... it's about to open. Just a little more.
...
My teeth are completely gone. I've decided to start using the bones from my left hand.
When I woke up today, I didn't see the red dot.
I thought it had gone out.
Turns out my right eye has gone blind.
Thank God.
...
Just a bit more. I can already pry the metal plate!
This is great, great, great! I can get out soon!
I hope returning to the outside world can heal my injuries.
I've decayed beyond recognition.
...
I've opened the cabinet.
Inside, there is a book.
I know its contents can help me get out.
Maybe it's a spell, like "Open Sesame." After I read it, I can leave this place.
But I can't.
I had gone blind five days before I managed to open the cabinet door.
Hahaha, hahahahaha, hahaha.
This is the funniest joke in the world.
...
Name, Bob Fox. Age, 37. Birthday, 9/8/83.
Favorite color, red.
Favorite TV show, "Frontline."
Mother, Harry Fox.
Someone come and kill me. Whoever you are, please come and kill me...
...
Name, Bob Fox. Age, 37. Birthday, 9/8/83.
High school, Harton High School.
Favorite sport, basketball.
I've tried to commit suicide. A hundred times? A thousand? I've pulled out my own heart, cracked open my own skull, blasted myself with the most powerful weapons. No matter how many times, how many times, my shattered body stands up again.
...
Kill me, I beg you.
...
