It was the third year since all of humanity had retreated into underground shelters.
Three years ago, a nuclear war had nearly flattened the entire surface of the Earth. Less than one-third of the population managed to enter the shelters, surviving only under the protection of reinforced steel and concrete.
However, the stockpiled supplies in the shelters were only meant to last ten years. With far more people crammed inside than the original design allowed, scientists and the central Shelter Mainframe calculated that all resources would be exhausted within five years at the latest.
Each shelter had its own ecological circulation system, but compared to the enormous daily consumption of its residents, it was little more than a drop in the bucket.
…
Qi Lin stared at the game pod in front of him, a thing shaped almost exactly like a coffin. His expression tightened in frustration.
"They say the game pods the rich use aren't like this. Way more advanced. And they get more than just three chances to resurrect."
The voice came from a boy sitting on another pod placed side by side with Qi Lin's. He wore a dirty down jacket. On the left chest, one could just barely make out a faded logo, something with "Bo…dun." Qi Lin vaguely recalled it had been a famous brand before the war.
"The Mainframe said resources are tight. People in the slum district just have to make do. But, if we earn enough wealth inside the game, we can trade it for real supplies."
Qi Lin flipped through the manual booklet that came with the pod as he spoke.
"Heh, you actually believe that? The ads said even slum rats could move into the rich districts someday. But reality? The elites probably spawn with starter gift packs the moment they log in. And us?" The boy in the down jacket grumbled bitterly.
The gap between the shelter's rich district and the slum district was enormous. To compare: one was a dark warren of tunnels like something from Tunnel Warfare movies, while the other was a high-tech luxury underground villa, complete with pools, beaches, and an artificial sun.
Qi Lin smirked. "Xiao Lei, remember those cheesy online game ads before the end?"
Xiao Lei blinked. "Huh?"
Qi Lin slowly tore open a pack of synthetic food, dumping the white paste inside, like melted soap, into a bowl. Then he said, "You know the one: 'Start with a dog and a knife, and all your gear depends on what you loot…'"
"What the hell? You've eaten too much synth-food and your brain's gone soft? And since when is there a dog?"
Qi Lin jabbed his spoon toward the boy perched on top of the "coffin."
"You're asking for it!"
…
Joking aside, when the Mainframe's appointed time arrived, both of them obediently climbed into their "coffins."
Wasteland Code Survival, a fully immersive game developed to train humans capable of surviving on the surface wasteland. It was said to perfectly simulate real surface conditions, allowing those trapped underground to adapt through gameplay and prepare for humanity's eventual return.
But its designers had set a near-cruel rule: every player was given only three free resurrection chances. Once those were gone, death in-game meant elimination.
And elimination meant the Shelter Mainframe would cut off that person's food, water, supplies, power, even oxygen.
In other words, dying in the game for real meant dying in reality.
If anyone refused to enter the game, they would be exiled. Exile meant being thrown directly onto the surface to play a live-action version of Wasteland Code Survival.
In the underground world where national borders had long since blurred, the AI Mainframe that controlled all shelters was the ultimate symbol of authority.
And a person's status in this apocalyptic society depended entirely on the permissions and wealth they held within the Mainframe.
Social classes always existed, even in the end of the world.
…
At exactly 12:00:00 noon, April 1, 2041, on the day once known as "April Fool's Day," Wasteland Code Survival officially began.
"Player biometric data verified. Identity confirmed. Do you wish to enter the game now?"
In the darkness, Qi Lin heard a cold, synthetic female voice echo in his ears.
"Yes."
The darkness slowly receded. Qi Lin found himself in a sealed rectangular room. Inside was only a table, and upon it, three metal boxes.
"Hello. You are the 9,527th player to access the game world. Do you wish to rename your identity?" The synthetic female voice reverberated through the room.
"9527? Seriously?" Qi Lin's jaw tightened. As a film buff, he knew that number wasn't ordinary. On the wasteland, maybe nobody cared about such a bland string of digits, but to him, it could still be a memorial for a life long gone.
"No need. I'll keep it."
"Player 9527. As a reward for being among the first ten thousand players, you may choose one of the three chests as a starter item."
"There's a perk like that?" Qi Lin blinked. The Mainframe had ordered everyone to log in within 24 hours of launch. Suddenly he was glad he'd entered right away.
The three boxes lay still on the table, indistinguishable from one another. Qi Lin casually pointed to the one in the middle. "That one."
The other two instantly vanished. The chosen box opened with a click of intricate gears.
"Congratulations. You have obtained the item: Swiss Army Knife."
Qi Lin picked it up—a palm-sized tool with a red-and-white logo. The moment he focused on it, a flood of tiny text filled his vision.
[Swiss Army Knife]
Green-quality item. Functions include: dagger, small knife, scissors, flathead blade, can opener, screwdriver, tweezers, saw, pliers, whetstone, awl, hook, ballpoint pen, compass, and more than a dozen others. A must-have for travel, survival, and combat.
It was clearly one of the largest and most versatile models. Heavy and solid in his grip.
Before the war, a real Swiss Army Knife had cost hundreds. In the underground shelters, even knock-offs were sky-high on the black market, far beyond what slum dwellers could afford.
"Not bad." Qi Lin had no idea what the other boxes contained, but judging by this one, it was a lucky draw.
On the wasteland, adaptability meant survival. And no tool was more adaptive than a Swiss Army Knife.
"Sixty seconds until you are transferred to a random safe location. Your Wasteland Code Survival will officially begin. Good luck, and enjoy the game."
"Sixty…"
"Fifty-nine…"
"Fifty-eight…"
…
"Zero!"
(End of Chapter 1)
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