"Please note: the main mission has been issued!"
Main Mission: Survive.
Mission Description: Survive for at least 24 hours.
Mission Duration: Unlimited.
Note: The longer you survive, the greater the rewards.
Warning: Do not leave the current city. Violators will be obliterated!!
Evaluation Hints: Survive 1 day = E-level; 2 days = D-level; 3 days = C-level; 4 days = B-level; 5 days = A-level; 6 days = S-level; and so on.
Reminder: After surviving 24 hours, you may choose to return to the Samsara Space at any time.
The moment the plane exploded, every Samsara participant in the dungeon heard the system's prompt echoing in their minds.
Meanwhile, Fenric—having taken refuge in the airport's baggage warehouse—had already changed into a fresh set of clothes. The moment the mission prompt finished, he instinctively looked down at both wrists.
As expected, on the right wrist, a horizontal bar had appeared.
Currently, it glowed green.
That meant he wasn't in danger—for now.
Fenric allowed himself a small smile, then quickly left the airport.
It was already past 9 p.m.
Under the glow of neon lights, the city night remained lively and far from dark. As he walked down the street, Fenric pondered.
Had he truly escaped death? Had the entity that pursued him given up?
Either way, his next move was clear—get some money, find a place to stay.
Getting cash was easy.
He spotted a random guy on the street, plucked a strand of his hair, and used a disguise mask to replicate the man's appearance.
Then, without hesitation, Fenric walked up to a nearby ATM.
Bam!
With a single punch, he shattered the machine.
"Jingle-jingle."
The alarm rang out, but Fenric ignored it. Calmly, he pulled out a prepared duffel bag, scooped up all the U.S. dollars inside the ATM, packed them up, and walked away—fully aware of the surveillance cameras trained on him.
Once he reached a blind spot, he removed the disguise and returned to his original appearance.
Now, Fenric was carrying hundreds of thousands in cash.
In this era, that was a small fortune.
And best of all, the police wouldn't be knocking on his door anytime soon—because the person caught on camera robbing the ATM was someone else entirely.
With a bag of cash slung over his shoulder, Fenric strolled leisurely down the street and entered a five-star hotel.
No passport. No green card. Technically, he shouldn't be allowed to check in.
But there's an old saying—"Money can make ghosts dance."
Turns out, it's a universal truth.
Fenric slapped down a thick stack of bills as a tip, and the night manager caved immediately—granting him access to a luxury top-floor suite.
The rate? Over $3,000 a night.
Fenric casually handed over $30,000.
"Book me in for ten days."
He couldn't take the money with him anyway, so he might as well enjoy it.
Day One.
Fenric remained on edge and barely slept, constantly alert for signs of death's approach.
But the day passed without incident.
The green bar on his wrist never changed.
Fenric grinned.
It worked.
He hadn't boarded the doomed plane. He had successfully evaded the death trigger.
Relieved, he let down his guard.
And then... he indulged.
The hotel's assistant lobby manager was a stunning woman with a killer figure. Fenric casually tossed tens of thousands her way—and before long, the "service" became very personal.
Even more surprising? She seemed to enjoy Fenric's company.
He had a fit body, overwhelming strength, and stamina that made her feel like she was floating on clouds.
In this timeline, a few hundred thousand dollars went a long way.
Fenric feasted on delicacies, partied lavishly, and spent his nights in carnal comfort.
What was meant to be a grim survival test had turned into a vacation.
Day Two.
Nothing happened.
Day Three.
Still quiet.
Day Four.
All clear.
Now it was Day Five.
Just a few more days, and Fenric could leave this place with a near-God-tier evaluation.
That Night.
Fenric was having dinner with the hotel girl in the restaurant.
"Ric," she said softly, "can you be my boyfriend?"
Fenric froze.
What's this now?
You had a good time, and now you want to get serious?
After thinking for a moment, he replied honestly, "Annie... I can't stay here long. I have to go back."
Disappointment flickered in her eyes.
She understood his meaning immediately.
Suddenly, Annie gasped—then collapsed, clutching her abdomen.
Fenric's expression shifted. "Annie?! What's wrong?!"
But she couldn't answer.
Foam spilled from her lips. Her pupils dilated. Her limbs twitched. In moments, she was in full-blown shock.
Around them, several other diners were experiencing the same symptoms.
Every single one had ordered the same dish—Cheese-Baked Shrimp.
So had Fenric.
Poison.
There was no doubt.
Fenric's eyes narrowed.
He had always been resistant to toxins thanks to his poison immunity, but if not for that, even his enhanced body might have succumbed.
Quickly, he checked the horizontal bar on his wrist.
It was no longer green.
It was now glowing dark red.
"Is this... death?" Fenric muttered, his face darkening.
There was no mistaking it.
Death had come for him—and everyone around him was collateral damage.
"So... even if you dodge the plane, you can't escape for more than five days?"
"And isn't Death only supposed to target survivors? Why poison an entire restaurant just to get to me?"
"Is this... what they call Samsara's 'special treatment'?"
A chill lit up Fenric's eyes.
Even if it was death itself—
He. Would. Not. Back. Down.
Killing him wasn't going to be that easy.
Not for anyone—even the Grim Reaper.