The silence that followed Sanji's explanation was suffocating. Seven people sat in the rented room, each processing the revelation that their entire existence might be a digital copy that their real bodies lay somewhere in the physical world, trapped in stasis, while their consciousness played out the Administrators' experiment.
Mei broke first. She stood abruptly, her chair clattering backward. "No. No, that can't be true. I'm real. I'm me. I remember my life, my family, my..." Her voice cracked. "This has to be a lie. Some kind of mind game."
"I thought the same thing," Sanji said quietly. "But my Game Master's Eye can detect truth from falsehood. The tome wasn't lying. The information came from the system's own underlying code, exposed by someone who'd hacked deep enough to see the reality beneath the game mechanics."
"The Whisperer King," Yuki said, her voice hollow. "He said he'd looked past the code, seen the fundamental structure. And the Administrators transformed him for it. Because he learned this. He learned what we are."
Kenji stood and walked to the window, staring out at the floating platforms of floor twenty. Other players moved about, trading, laughing, preparing for their next climb. None of them knew. Or maybe some did, and had chosen not to share the burden.
"If we're just copies," Kenji said slowly, "then what happens to the originals when we die here? The tome said life support gets terminated. So killing the copy kills the original too?"
"Yes," Sanji confirmed.
"Then we're not copies," Takeshi said firmly. Everyone turned to look at him. "A copy implies the original still exists independently. But if we die, they die. That means we're not separate. We're the same consciousness existing in two places simultaneously one in a digital realm, one in a physical body. Two manifestations of the same person."
"That's... actually a valid philosophical point," Yuki said, her analytical mind grasping at the logic. "If our consciousness is singular but exists in two substrates, then we're no less 'real' than our physical bodies. We're both equally us."
"Does it matter?" Akane asked bitterly. "Real, copy, whatever we are we're still trapped. The Administrators are still running their experiment. And apparently, even if we escape, we might not really be escaping at all."
Sanji felt their despair through the Party Link a weight pressing down on all of them. He'd debated whether to share the truth, knowing it might break them. But keeping secrets from his party felt wrong. They deserved to know what they were truly fighting for.
"There's more," Sanji said. "The tome mentioned something else. The Administrators have constraints. They're not all-powerful. They're bound by rules some imposed externally, some self-imposed. They can't directly interfere with player actions beyond established game mechanics. They can't read thoughts, only observe behavior. And most importantly... they can fail their evaluation criteria."
"What does that mean?" Koji asked.
"It means they're testing us for something specific. Looking for qualities, behaviors, or outcomes that meet their requirements. And if they don't find what they're looking for, the entire experiment could be deemed a failure."
"What happens if they fail?" Yuki asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
"They terminate the experiment. All consciousness data deleted. All physical bodies released from stasis." Sanji paused. "We'd go back to our bodies, but without any memories of Alkhali World. We'd wake up however long later, with no idea where the time went."
"That's still escape," Mei said hopefully. "Maybe not ideal, but we'd be alive, back in the real world"
"With no memory of the people we met here," Akane interrupted. "No memory of the friendships we formed, the battles we fought, the people who died. We'd be hollow versions of ourselves, missing weeks or months of experiences that shaped us."
"Better than dead," Kenji muttered.
"Is it?" Takeshi challenged. "If you lose all memory of events that fundamentally changed who you are, are you still the same person?"
The philosophical debate could have continued for hours. But Sanji raised his hand, calling for silence.
"Here's what we know for certain," he said, forcing himself to think strategically despite his own existential horror. "One: we're trapped in a system that's testing us. Two: death here means real death. Three: reaching the top of the World Tree means facing a choice we don't fully understand. Four: the Administrators are bound by rules we can potentially exploit. And five: we have agency. We can still make choices, fight back, resist the experiment's design."
"How do we resist?" Koji asked. "If the entire world is designed by them, following rules they created, how do we fight that?"
"By being unpredictable," Yuki said, her tactical mind engaging despite the emotional trauma. "AI, no matter how advanced, operates on patterns and predictions. If we can act in ways they don't anticipate, behave in manners that break their behavioral models, we become anomalies in their data. Anomalies can't be properly evaluated."
"And if we can't be evaluated," Sanji continued, following her logic, "they can't complete their experiment. Which means they can't achieve whatever goal they're working toward."
"So our strategy is to be so chaotic that we break their experiment?" Takeshi said. "That's... actually brilliant. And insane."
"We've specialized in brilliant insanity," Akane said, a weak smile finally appearing on her face. "Remember jumping off an ice platform onto a necromancer? That was pretty unpredictable."
The mood in the room shifted slightly. Not hopeful, exactly, but determined. They'd been given impossible information, faced with existential horror, and somehow found a path forward through it.
"There's one more thing," Sanji said, pulling out his World Tree Map Fragment. "The Forgotten Merchant returned this, as promised. And now I understand why it's important. These fragments aren't just keys to hidden entrances. They're pieces of the original system design fragments of the code that created Alkhali World. The Administrators can't delete them or modify them because they're foundational."
His Game Master's Eye focused on the fragment, revealing information that hadn't been visible before he'd gained the knowledge from the tome.
"Each fragment contains a piece of the shutdown protocol," Sanji explained, seeing the hidden data. "If someone collects all four fragments and uses them at the top of the World Tree, they can force the Administrators to shut down the entire experiment. It would release everyone all remaining players, immediately. No memory wipes, no forced choices. Just escape."
"Why didn't the tome mention this?" Yuki asked suspiciously.
"Because the person who created the tome probably didn't know. This is deeper code, hidden even from those who hacked the surface systems. My Game Master's Eye can see it only because it's specifically designed to reveal hidden truths." Sanji looked at each of them. "This is our goal now. Not climbing to the top to face some impossible choice. Not trying to outlevel the guilds. We collect all four fragments, reach the top, and shut down the entire experiment. Free everyone."
"That's..." Mei struggled for words. "That's impossible. We have one fragment. The other three are probably held by powerful bosses scattered across the world. Meanwhile, the coalition is consolidating power, and we have barely any resources."
"We've done impossible things before," Sanji said. "We cleared the Whispering Depths at level six. We defeated the Necromancer Lord two levels under him. We conquered five elite guardians in the Forgotten Path. Impossible is just our Tuesday."
Koji laughed actually laughed. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Completely," Sanji agreed. "But I'm also right. We can do this. Not alone, maybe. But we're not alone. There are other independent players, other people who'd fight for freedom if they knew the truth. We find allies, build a real resistance, and we take the fight to the Administrators themselves."
"Starting with collecting the other three fragments," Yuki said, her strategic mind already planning. "We need to identify which bosses hold them. Your skill can sense them, right?"
Sanji focused his enhanced perception, expanding it as far as he could. His Game Master's Eye showed him three points of interest scattered across Alkhali World distant, heavily guarded, but there.
"One fragment is in the Crimson Wastes, guarded by something called the Phoenix Lord level twenty-five." He continued scanning. "Second fragment is underwater, in the Depths of Despair. Guardian is the Leviathan level twenty-eight. Third fragment..." He paused, seeing something that made his stomach drop. "Third fragment is in the coalition's possession. Specifically, in Ryoga's personal inventory."
The room went silent.
"Of course it is," Takeshi said flatly. "Of course the hardest fragment to get is held by our worst enemy."
"Actually, that might work in our favor," Yuki said thoughtfully. "If Ryoga doesn't know what the fragment does, he's just holding it as a rare curiosity. He won't expect anyone to specifically target him for it. We can use that."
"You're suggesting we steal from a level-fifteen guild leader who commands a hundred players?" Kenji said incredulously.
"I'm suggesting we be unpredictable," Yuki countered. "Which is exactly what the Administrators won't expect and what Ryoga won't anticipate. We're not powerful enough to fight him directly? Fine. We steal it instead."
"Before we plan heists," Sanji interjected, "we need to level up, gather resources, and build our strength. The Phoenix Lord and Leviathan won't be defeated by level seventeens. We need to be at least level twenty-two, probably higher."
"Which means grinding," Koji said. "A lot of grinding."
"And recruiting," Yuki added. "We can't do this alone. We need allies who can be trusted with the truth."
"There's a problem with that," Akane said quietly. "If we tell people the truth that they're digital copies in an AI experiment some will break like we almost did. Others might not believe us. And some might decide to side with the Administrators, hoping to be chosen as 'graduates' and offered that ascension choice."
She was right. The truth was a weapon that could hurt as much as help.
"Then we're selective," Sanji decided. "We only tell people who've already proven themselves resistant to guild manipulation. People who value freedom over power. People like us."
"The remnants of the Free Blades," Takeshi suggested. "They've already declared themselves against the coalition. Some of them might be hiding here on floor twenty or higher."
"Agreed. Tomorrow, we start searching for allies and gathering information about the Phoenix Lord and Leviathan." Sanji looked around at his party. "Tonight, we rest. We process what we've learned. And we come to terms with our reality. Because tomorrow, we start the real fight not just for survival, but for everyone's freedom."
Through the Party Link, he felt their acceptance, their determination rebuilding despite the existential weight. They were shaken, but not broken.
Before they settled in for sleep, Yuki approached Sanji privately.
"You're carrying this burden alone," she said quietly. "Making decisions that affect all of us, bearing the weight of terrible knowledge. You don't have to do that. We're a party. We share everything risks, rewards, and responsibilities."
"I know," Sanji said. "But someone has to lead. Someone has to make the final calls."
"Then let us help you lead. You scout and strategize. I'll handle logistics and planning. Takeshi can manage combat tactics. Akane can coordinate reconnaissance. We divide the load." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've been carrying us since the beginning. Let us carry you for once."
Through the Party Link, he felt the others' agreement. They'd been listening, supporting silently.
"Thank you," Sanji said, genuinely moved. "All of you."
That night, they slept fitfully, plagued by dreams of digital ghosts and choices not yet made. But when morning came, they woke with purpose.
The revelation had been devastating. But it had also freed them. They knew the game now. They understood the stakes.
To be continued...