Chris pressed on, emphasizing the dire situation Alina found herself in, "Nevertheless, maintaining infected individuals in specialized quarantine zones comes at an exorbitant cost. Remember, these patients are incapacitated, unable to contribute through work. So, Alina, you're facing a daily depletion of 200 points from your account until Hobe regains his strength and can resume active missions."
"Damn, that's outrageously expensive!" Alina exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice.
"You're absolutely correct," Chris replied, delivering the harsh reality without hesitation. "But you know the deal - this is the Upper Society, a business, not a charity. Every expense has its costs and affects the bottom line."
As Alina weighed her options, the gravity of the situation sank in.
Despite her substantial point balance, a daily deduction of 200 points would swiftly deplete her resources.
Additionally, successful missions typically yielded 150-200 points at most.
"In any case," Chris stated coldly, underscoring the unforgiving nature of their world, "that's the way it is."
Fuck.
Muttering an internal obscenity, Alina took a moment before conceding, "Very well, I agree," her voice carrying the weight of her decision.
"Good," responded the Upper Society staff member, "We'll input the information into your installment chair."
Swiftly processing the digits, the digital display showcased the intricate network of calculations, a stark reminder of the commitment now etched into the unforgiving records of the Upper Society.
"Hari Antsumi has been in the facility for three days. You'll be charged 150 points for each day, totaling 450 points. This will be debited from your account tonight once you settle into your installment chair," Chris explained, his tone reflecting the nonchalance of a seasoned host.
The numeric sprawl on the digital board appeared as a complex tapestry, each scrolling number a chilling reminder of the enormous commitment Alina had made.
Internally, she cried out, "Damn, Hobe, you need to wake up soon. If not, all three of us are dead."
***
[Installation successful...]
[Loading data...]
[Matching data starts...]
[Grouping power....]
[No matching data found...]
[Grouping skills....]
[No matching data found...]
Chris furrowed his brow, eyes fixed on indicators stubbornly displaying the message:
"No matching data found."
This repeated message triggered growing concern and confusion within him.
Gazing at Hobe, suspended in a tube filled with a bluish liquid, his closed eyes and stillness seemed ethereal.
Persistent lack of matching data cast a shadow of pessimism over Chris's thoughts.
The difficulties in obtaining matching data and Hobe's critical condition signaled a more challenging situation than anticipated.
No one expected Hobe not to match with any Slayer Knight profiles.
Despite being a survivor and an ordinary human, he showed great potential in the previous mission.
Frustration evident, Chris turned to the control panel.
"System," he commanded with impatience and hope, "Initiate specialized Slayer Knight weapon type adjustment for Hobe Satsubasa."
The mechanical voice responded, "Adjusting weapon type for Slayer Knight... Searching for matching data..."
Chris exchanged glances with the young researchers, anticipation and anxiety etched on their faces.
The room held its breath as the system searched for a match.
Finally, the system's verdict echoed, "No matching data found..."
Chris briefly clenched his fists in frustration but couldn't afford doubt.
"Re-run the analysis," he commanded. "Double-check all available sources."
The system complied, progress bars filling the display as it tirelessly sought compatibility between Hobe and Slayer Knight profiles.
Minutes felt like hours as everyone waited with bated breath. Then, the system's final verdict came, "Conclusion: Individual categorized as the Cyan."
Chris sighed exasperatedly, shoulders slumping. "Well, that's unexpected," he muttered.
The mechanical sounds ceased after the procedure, attempting to fit Hobe into Slayer Knight strength categories.
Despite hope, the outcome didn't yield any miraculous transformation.
Hobe remained unconscious, fate hanging in the balance. Chris knew Hobe showed potential despite being labeled a mere survivor and ordinary human.
This outcome raised more questions than answers.
"Phew, I'm glad I secured that guarantee from Alina," Chris chuckled, relieved to avoid acquiring a useless Slayer Knight.
Relief washed over Chris. Hobe not qualifying spared valuable points and resources.
As Chris sighed, the camera crew shared his triumph, laughter echoing in the sterile surroundings.
Chris's casual dismissal of Alina's potential deactivation raised eyebrows among the crew.
His nonchalant attitude left them pondering the cost of survival and the lengths one would go to secure it.
"As for Alina, who might be deactivated due to running out of points, who cares? Life is one big struggle!" Chris continued carefree.