Doomsday Wonderland

The pocket dimension had stated that the game's introductory explanation would last thirty-five minutes, and it delivered exactly that, down to the second.

The broadcast voice spoke quickly. The explanation of the media and message, combined with selecting a scene and reading information, took no more than five minutes in total, offering only a broad overview. The remaining thirty minutes were filled with endless, fragmented, and tedious supplementary rules. Lin Sanjiu initially planned to memorize them one by one, but after a while, she completely gave up on the idea.

Who could remember thirty minutes of unconnected, disjointed rules, let alone recall them word for word afterward?

Yet, it didn't seem like the pocket dimension's purpose was to trip them up with the rules and punish them for breaking them.

After all, the rule explanation didn't contain any explicitly prohibitive clauses with penalties. There were no "Do not do X, or Y will happen" statements. At least, Lin Sanjiu didn't recall hearing anything like that.

Even when discussing violent actions, the broadcast voice was surprisingly lenient.

"Violence and murder are not prohibited in this game. Theoretically, you are allowed to kill all eleven other participants. However, the remaining person will be permanently trapped in the pocket dimension since they cannot fulfill the victory conditions."

It then added, "Also, using violence to force or threaten someone into picking up a media is invalid and will not produce any effects."

Not to mention that resorting to violence would undoubtedly cause one's credibility rating to plummet into the negatives. While violence wasn't banned, it was clear that using it would have overwhelmingly negative consequences in this game.

When Lin Sanjiu stepped out of her designated area, she was still deep in thought, desperately trying to recall what she had just heard. It seemed like the pocket dimension had said that the first step to gaining believers was agreement?

Whether through reasoning, persuasion, or trickery, the listener had to internally accept her message first. Once that foundation was established, repeating it multiple times would gradually turn the listener's thoughts into beliefs—a principle that seemed applicable not only in the game but also in real life.

What else had it mentioned? Oh, right. Participants in the game scenes would still experience the needs of everyday life, such as feeling sleepy when tired or in need of food when hungry. The pocket dimension provided everything necessary for survival within the scenes and even fulfilled their need for communication. After all, there were eleven other people waiting to talk to you.

Lin Sanjiu was certain there was more. She remembered something about how credibility was calculated, but by this point, she had already entered a large circle labeled "Assembly Point." As the shadows of the other participants entered her peripheral vision, she immediately snapped out of her thoughts and raised her guard.

The other eleven participants formed a loose circle, all wearing similar expressions: confusion, wariness, and awkwardness. Everyone seemed to realize that the others shared the same thoughts and goals.

Apparently, no one wanted to be the first to speak up and take the lead. For a while, they all quietly sized each other up from beneath lowered eyelids, arms crossed, shifting their weight from foot to foot, or suppressing the urge to say something with an occasional dry cough.

The first to break the silence was a tall, heavyset woman who stood even taller than Lin Sanjiu. She looked to be at least forty or fifty years old, her face and chest marked by fine wrinkles. Yet, when she opened her mouth, her voice carried enough energy and vigor to knock over anyone half her age.

"This is absolute bullshit!" she bellowed, cursing with an ease that suggested it came naturally to her. "So this is a pocket dimension? I stood there listening for thirty goddamn minutes, my legs are swollen, and I still don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. What am I supposed to get you to take? A riddle?"

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"It's media," Ya Rong said with a laugh, breaking the tension.

"The rules said we'd have ten minutes to introduce ourselves before the first scene appears," said a dark-skinned man with small braids. His perpetually listless expression made it seem like nothing could interest him; even the absurdity of the pocket dimension left his half-lidded eyes unmoved. "Let's get the introductions over with. My name's Rob."

"I'm Hina," the tall, heavyset woman said. "I'm definitely getting out of this hellhole. I've got a granddaughter waiting for me."

"Is everyone here from Chimeric City? I'm Ya Rong." As she spoke, her gaze swept across the circle, briefly landing on Lin Sanjiu.

"I'm not," said a man with sharp, delicate features and a cold expression, his voice deep and gravelly. "I came to Chimeric City to look for someone, but somehow I got dragged into this mess. Just call me Wen Ya."

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'Not very elegant at all,' Lin Sanjiu thought, recalling the man's tone when he had just threatened someone to get out of his way. He seemed entirely too accustomed to using force.

"Stop wasting time introducing yourselves," a woman said impatiently, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Before the game starts, we should go over the rules we remember. Names can wait. There were so many rules just now, I'm not sure I even remembered half of them."

Lin Sanjiu glanced at the woman who spoke. At first, she thought the woman might be wearing makeup, which was rare among the Twelve Worlds Centrum's ordinary people. But upon closer inspection, she realized the woman was naturally blessed with flawless skin, strikingly defined eyebrows, and naturally rosy lips.

With a faint but unmistakable air of aloof pride, the woman broke the silence. "I remember one rule. Once someone becomes a mouthpiece, the scene they chose won't appear anymore, right? What else do you all remember? Let's piece it together."

'Propagator' was evidently her term for the game's believers, and Lin Sanjiu found it fitting. A person who could only echo someone else's message truly resembled a mouthpiece. The reminder jogged Lin Sanjiu's memory of that rule, and she nodded, adding, "There's also the way credibility is calculated. For instance, if I do something good that convinces five people to increase their trust in me by 0.1 each, my credibility won't go up by 0.5 directly. It increases by dividing 0.5 across twelve players... Right?"

"Right, it's averaged," Rob confirmed with a nod. "But if someone trusts you less by 0.1, it deducts the full 0.1 from your credibility."

Lin Sanjiu silently noted that her credibility was likely as low as it was because Ya Rong's distrust had tanked it.

"I remember I can take anything I want from the scene—food, clothes, supplies, whatever. As long as it's in the scene, it's mine." Hina laughed loudly as she added, "Too bad none of the scenes include handsome young men."

"Don't you worry about someone deliberately feeding you false rules?" The muscular man with the unusually prominent forehead spoke for the first time. His deep-set eyes, always shaded by his brow, gave his expression a perpetually grim undertone.

"The risk is too high," another participant countered. This man had a friendly, calm demeanor, the kind that suggested he'd step in to diffuse conflicts. His soft, slightly sagging features dimpled into a long smile line when he spoke. "If even one of the eleven others remembers that specific rule, they'll know you're lying. That'll tank your credibility."

"You're Dr. Chen, aren't you?" Ya Rong suddenly exclaimed as recognition lit up her face.

"Ah, yes," the man responded with a small nod toward the group. "I'm a traveling doctor, moving between Chimeric City and Soybean Market. It's nice that someone remembers me. Unfortunately, I just arrived in Chimeric City last night when I got swept into this whole mess."

Lin Sanjiu bit back the question on the tip of her tongue—'How did a Twelve Worlds Centrum doctor end up here?'Her current appearance already raised enough questions. Admitting ignorance about something so basic might drop her credibility to negative numbers instantly.

"A whole series of strange events led to this pocket dimension," a petite, cautious-looking woman murmured with a sigh. "Oh, I'm Guan Nan. Honestly, I can't remember most of the rules. Ever since I turned thirty, my memory's been going downhill."

As the conversation veered off-topic, the woman who'd first suggested reviewing the rules visibly grew impatient again. Just as she seemed about to intervene, the air shimmered, and everyone's vision blurred.

Colors and shadows sprang to life, like a growing forest erupting from the ground, enclosing the group in layers. Lin Sanjiu's field of view was swiftly overtaken as reality reshaped itself.

The game had begun.

This wasn't just a projection. Tangible objects formed around them—walls, furniture, even a plush short-pile carpet beneath their feet. A chandelier descended from the newly formed ceiling, and Lin Sanjiu recognized the space immediately; it was the lobby of a hotel.

The twelve participants stood awkwardly in the hotel's lounge area. With the addition of sofas and coffee tables, the space felt cramped, forcing them closer together. The group exchanged wary glances, their amazement visible on their faces.

"So, this is what posthumans deal with?" someone muttered, voice tinged with awe.

"This is a hotel lobby, isn't it?" Hina's booming voice rang out. "I've seen places like this in public broadcasts."

Lin Sanjiu quickly scanned the group. Even the person who had chosen this scene would likely show surprise upon seeing it materialize so vividly. Judging by the expressions alone, it was impossible to tell whose scene this was.

"Didn't expect my scene to come up first," a voice said.

It came from a young man with short, stiff black hair who had been silent until now. His expression was blank, almost stunned, as the words slipped out of his mouth.

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