Chapter 464: Chapter 452: Let’s Design a Game

「Cybertron, main control room.」

Allen leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, like a god listening to the prayers of his believers.

Fervor, excitement.

The emotional fluctuations of fifty-three million natives bombarded the network nodes, causing congestion several times higher than usual.

The search volume for the keyword "Cyber Spirit Realm" had already surpassed one hundred million.

Discussion about the "Steel Knights" grew more and more heated.

The entire kingdom was in an uproar over a concept he had casually thrown out.

Allen opened his eyes. There was no trace of emotion in them.

’Save Aiselan?’

’They’re overthinking it. He never engaged in unprofitable ventures.’

He was no savior. He was merely a shrewd investor pursuing maximum efficiency.

Increasing the Aiselans’ overall strength was only to protect this experimental plot that belonged to him.

"Jarvis."

Allen opened his eyes, and a schematic of the underlying architecture of an "artificial soul"—composed of countless Runes and logic chains—unfurled before him like a galaxy.

Acquiring data and completing his experiments was the true core of the "Cyber Spirit Realm" project.

The fifty-three million Aiselans were his chosen "computing fodder" and large-scale "lab rats."

"Base the design of this epoch-making virtual game on the framework of combat games from my past life."

"Our main goal is to collect soul and consciousness samples, so we need to apply extreme pressure to them in the virtual environment and record the full-spectrum data of their Spiritual Power oscillations."

"Therefore, we must design the ultimate ’emotional roller coaster’ in the game."

His finger swiped through the empty air, materializing one command after another.

"I want them to experience the most tragic battlefield camaraderie, then watch helplessly as their comrades turn to ash in their arms."

"I want them to experience the most desperate siege by a Beast Tide, and as they run out of ammunition and supplies, feel the terror of having their souls gnawed on by millions of monsters."

"And I want them to taste the most thrilling last-ditch counterattack, to erupt with life’s most brilliant splendor when facing a one-in-ten-thousand chance of survival!"

"Joy, anger, sorrow, fear... I want all extreme emotions! I need them to generate the most extreme emotional fluctuations in the most realistic environment."

"Every scream, every shout, every tear will become a cornerstone for my construction of the ’artificial soul’!"

[WARNING: Simultaneously hosting fifty-three million citizens in a holographic simulation with 85% realism will require processing power 1730% greater than Cybertron’s current peak. The system will crash shortly after activation.]

[ERROR: The fifty-copper-nal Alchemy Helmet cannot support such complex sensory data interaction functions.]

"Processing power?"

Allen smiled. "Who said I was the one who had to provide the processing power?"

"They’re experiencing my game for free. Naturally, they have to pay a small price."

"William will provide his people with the most generous subsidies, allowing every Aiselan to afford that ’game helmet.’ And that helmet..."

Allen pulled up a design diagram. It was a structurally simple Rune Array, only the size of a palm.

"...It has only one core function: to link the wearer’s consciousness to the [Allen Network]."

To implement a brain-computer interface with sci-fi equipment from his past life would require extremely advanced technology and expensive materials. But here, using Witchcraft to connect a consciousness to the network was horrifyingly simple.

"But it also has a hidden function."

Allen’s smile grew mischievous, like a chess master admiring the perfect trap he had just laid.

"And that is ’distributed cloud computing’."

On Jarvis’s holographic screen, countless formulas and models began running at high speed.

"For every player who connects to the Cyber Spirit Realm, I will forcibly requisition 15% of their redundant brainpower, even as their minds are busy processing their own sensory data."

Siphoning 15% of their brain’s processing power wouldn’t affect the locals’ daily lives. It would only leave them slightly fatigued after exiting the game. A good night’s sleep, and they’d be ready to continue their labor the next day.

"Fifteen percent from one person is insignificant, but what about fifteen percent from fifty-three million people, all gathered together?"

Allen spread his arms, as if embracing a vast, invisible empire.

"—An unprecedented ’biological cloud computing network’ covering all of Aiselan!"

"They use their own brains to run the very world that traps them. The more engrossed, the more invested they become, the more real this virtual world gets—and the more value I can extract."

"Not only do I get their most precious soul data for free, I even save a huge chunk of money on servers."

He would make full use of every single "leek," from root to leaf.

[...Logic is sound. Plan is viable. Processing power and cost issues resolved.]

"Good. Begin generating the game architecture."

Allen stood up. "I will personally handle the first dungeon."

"Let’s call it... ’Flesh and Blood Great Wall’."

Scene models rapidly formed on the holographic screen. The salty tang of the sea breeze, the scorched smell of severed limbs, the roars of the Heart Eaters—all were converted into precise sensory data code.

This was a complete replica of the coastline defense battle from three years ago, where six hundred thousand people died.

"Pain perception reduced to 30%. Realism set to 85%."

Allen adjusted the parameters. "Too much pain will drive away the players, but not enough pain won’t force out their extreme emotions."

"The first wave of the Beast Tide must be large enough to induce despair."

"After half an hour, throw in three King Level Heart Eaters. Forcibly tear through the defensive line."

"Set friendly NPCs to be torn apart in front of the players. Trigger both visual and auditory stimuli."

Every parameter Allen set was precisely calibrated to the breaking point of the human psyche. He wanted to collect the soul fluctuations from the very instant players broke down in despair.

Only souls that had struggled repeatedly in a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, been thoroughly crushed by despair and fear, and then rose again, would be qualified... to become a single line of valid data in his database.

[Dungeon "Flesh and Blood Great Wall" constructed. Design in progress.]

"In the core foundation of the Spirit Realm, implant a thought-activity monitoring program," Allen gave his final command.

This was a backdoor that directly read and analyzed the thought activity of all players.

What he wanted to do was not just observe their emotions, but to analyze the entire underlying thought process that produced those emotions.

He wanted to see how an external stimulus, processed through memory comparison and logical judgment, eventually evolved into an output called "anger" or "sadness."

He wanted to reverse-engineer the algorithm of "humanity."

He would use the extreme emotional data from these fifty million people to feed and catalyze his "Humanity Operator."

The modification of his [Mechanical Mind] was continuously stripping him of his emotions. He was becoming more and more like a precision machine.

To fight this irreversible alienation, he had to construct, at a soul level, a fundamental logic that would force the experience of emotions, thereby safeguarding his own precious humanity.

Allen watched the endless stream of code scroll by, his gaze growing impossibly deep.

The essence of a Wizard is plunder.

Dawn Star Level beings were entrenched in the deep sea, treating the Aiselans like captive livestock, periodically harvesting their lives.

Allen was also plundering.

He had just switched to a more civilized, more hidden, and more efficient method.

He gave the natives hope, gave them Mecha, gave them a path for advancement.

In exchange, the natives offered up their processing power, their data, and the secrets of their souls.

Let these fifty-three million people use their joys and sorrows, their passion and madness, to pave the most solid staircase for his path to Morning Star.

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