Chapter 124: But That's a Collectible!

Human nature is a fickle, capricious thing, yet destiny always seems to write its footnotes early in one’s youth. Thus, when stances are violently overturned and paths inevitably diverge, people love to blame the vague, distant concept of fate. They prefer to shift the burden onto life’s cruel twists and turns rather than look back at the reflections of their former selves.

Once certain choices are made, the bridge burns behind you. As the old saying goes: spilled water cannot be gathered up.

“Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus~”

“vidi docentem – credite posteri! ~ ~”

A faint, elusive tenor drifted from behind the heavy velvet curtain. The singer’s self-absorbed voice swelled and faded like the tide, while thick, blood-colored threads hung from the rafters, enveloping the entire stage in a macabre web.

“Meow~”

You looked down. An elegant black cat had appeared by your leg at some unknown point, nonchalantly licking her paw as if she owned the place.

Under her other paw lay a small, colorful card with rounded lettering that read: Miss Christine.

Ah. Miss Christine’s Petting Ticket. A rare collectible that could instantly promote two Operators.

Without a second of hesitation, you snatched it up, tore it cleanly in two, and slapped one half onto Muro and the other onto the little Bacchus leopard cub resting in your arms.

Steward leaned in, his expression completely dejected. “Doctor, why did you give a promotion voucher to a puppy?”

The young Caster had no idea what the ticket actually did, but his gamer logic dictated that anything in the Doctor’s hands was a divine artifact. For all he knew, that little piece of paper was just as overpowered as that mysterious golden chalice they found earlier!

You gave him a look of deep pity. “…Do you even have an Elite 2 promotion, that you’d want it?”

Yato followed close behind, escorting the captive Playwright. Upon arriving and catching the tail end of Steward’s complaint, the Playwright couldn’t help but interject. “A dog? There’s a dog in my script?”

He looked down. A “puppy” sporting a rather ominous, abyssal color scheme locked eyes with him.

The Playwright instantly turned a sickly shade of pale. This is a dog? Are you blind?!

Muro smirked, completely misreading the room as he pressed the advantage. “So you can even command dogs now, but… Doctor, what exactly is the tactical use of this mutt?”

The Playwright’s hands were visibly trembling now. Chen Yuan, Chen Yuan, when did you become so brave?!

Muro, entirely oblivious to the severity of the situation, even tried to drag the captive into his brazen taunting. “What are you looking at? Trying to ambush the Doctor with a mad dog, or are you attempting to use this mentally deficient animal to help you escape?”

The Playwright was completely numb. He waved his hands frantically, desperately trying to signal that he harbored no such suicidal intentions. Please, stop talking. That leopard is looking at me like I’m its next meal. The trust I spent ten years building with him is being completely atomized by your stupid mouth!!

You didn’t bother interrupting the farce. It wasn’t because you wanted to watch the drama unfold, but because your eyes were completely glued to the Bacchus leopard’s glowing PRTS stat panel.

Unlike Phantom, who merely inherited a fraction of this power, Bacchus possessed full mastery over his own domain. On the temporary recruitment interface, his class was clearly defined: Vanguard Operator — Flagbearer!

Initial cost 12. Third skill activates 5 seconds after deployment, generating 10 DP.

Sounds relatively unremarkable, right?

But what if, after activating the skill, the attack range expanded to match Wis’adel’s? What if it inflicted Bacchus-style forced inducement and Nervous Impairment on up to four enemies simultaneously, generating an additional 3 DP for every enemy whose sanity gauge burst?

Holy crap. What kind of Vanguard war god was this?! Not having Block count wasn’t a flaw; this was purely a meta-defining survival talent!

Can I really not take you out of the castle?

For the first time, you looked at the Bacchus leopard with genuine, greedy desperation. Unfortunately, the little cub caught your gaze and returned a mournful, knowing expression. It wagged its tail, and for a split second, the furry skin peeled back to reveal ghastly white bone before snapping back to normal.

You knew full well that the “died once” he mentioned earlier wasn’t a simple respawn mechanic. The sheer magnitude of injuries required to fell a creature that had almost ascended into a conceptual entity wouldn’t heal so easily. His current existence was entirely tethered to the anomalous properties of the Crimson Troupe’s castle.

Fine. A one-time experience with a super-premium Vanguard. Once you lit up more nodes on the tech tree, you’d eventually find a way to fish him back to Rhodes Island!

On the stage, the ethereal figure’s singing grew increasingly intense. As the opera approached its bloody climax, the four heavy tactical sword-shields hovering around Rosmontis became restless, emitting a low, dangerous hum.

You gestured for the young feline to hold her fire, making one last diplomatic attempt. “Phantom! Phantom! Can you hear me?!”

The man’s tenor only climbed higher in pitch. There was absolutely zero sign of a lucid response.

Apparently, in a timeline where you existed, Bacchus’s greatest daily hobby had shifted from psychologically tormenting Phantom to reminiscing about the past and playing the grieving widow for you. At the very least, Phantom’s vocal cords hadn’t been corrupted by Originium.

…Though his Sanity meter was clearly at zero.

You knew Phantom was currently trapped in a state of total control loss. The fact that he was reacting to his environment meant that if you were patient enough to talk him down over a few days, you could probably redeem him with the power of friendship and love.

—But if you just beat him unconscious right now, PRTS would reward you with the Ending 1 collectible.

Sure, saving a few days in the castle was practically useless other than proving you were a cold-hearted, min-maxing Doctor. But you had already secured the Ending 2, 3, and 4 collectibles for Tabo’s Difficulty 8 Logistics Squad. You were only missing this specific one to complete the set.

Just this one left!

Calm down, Doctor. That’s Phantom. The pitiful, loyal, tragic kitty. You can’t hurt your own Operator for a useless piece of digital lore… for a ‘three missing one’ collectible.

Your gamer greed finally suplexed your moral compass. You opened your mouth, a chilling smile spreading across your face.

“—Rosmontis! C14 position, Originium Arts output intensity 85%. Prepare to engage!”

Giving up a 100% completion rate just to avoid a boss fight with Phantom? You were being far too cruel to your own account!

The pink leopard let out an evil, knowing meow. Without needing a direct command, it consciously trotted over to the most useless grid tile in your formation, activated its skill, and immediately ripped the aggro off the hounds rushing your blue box.

Muro didn’t miss the opportunity to comment. “There’s even a dog-eat-dog segment in this play?”

Rosmontis slightly raised her hands. Invisible, crushing telekinetic energy surged across the stage. The four massive sword-shields rose and fell in a brutal rhythm, piercing through the maddened, red-clad actors like a hot knife through butter. The ghostly Casters couldn’t even get within casting range before being pulverized.

Yato held the frontline, dashing across the bloodstained floorboards according to your precise tactical pings. From time to time, she would clash with a rampaging elite monster, striking exactly once before retreating into the shadows. Buying those few brief seconds of delay was the sturdiest safety net a Doctor could ask for.

Meanwhile, Steward and the Playwright were left in the backline, relegated to moving supply boxes.

Hey, no choice. Even on the grandest, most tragic battlefields, someone has to be on box-duty, right?

As the orchestral track reached its absolute peak, the figure in the scarlet dress and bone mask finally made his grand finale appearance. Lucian, the Blood Diamond. His body had practically merged with the stage shadows, his fingers degenerated into razor-sharp claws, and his singing acted like the strings of a master puppeteer, yanking every surviving actor into a frenzy.

“Now, Muro!”

Burning Life Carnival, activate!

Muro stepped onto the high-ground tile you had paved early on, descended from the sky like a meteor, and landed heavily right in front of Phantom!

Having been benched as an obscure five-star for far too long, most Doctors had completely forgotten that his burst DPS during his skill window was mathematically comparable to Surtr’s!

Juiced to the gills with IS2 collectibles, Muro grinned hideously, raised his heavy shield, and delivered a devastating, devastating punch straight into his former colleague’s masked face!

Muro, securing the friendly-fire triple kill!

[Rhodes’s Note: “Three missing one” () is a common Chinese slang term originating from Mahjong, referring to a situation where a group is missing exactly one person or item to complete a full set. Here, the Doctor is agonizing over missing the final collectible to 100% his run.]

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent! 🙇‍♂️):

Massive thanks for reading and supporting the operation!]