The dark shadow of the world war enveloped the towns of Germany. The scale of this war was unprecedented, affecting the forces of various countries, spreading panic and unrest, and disorder was rampant.
Alister stood by an old telephone booth, completely ignored by the passersby as if he didn't exist in this world.
After an unknown period, a torn newspaper fluttered past, and a group of civilians was chased by soldiers, scattered and helpless.
Dirty and ragged children cried, while their parents, in tattered clothes, looked anxious. The rebellious soldiers firing their guns took pleasure in the chaos.
Suddenly, a civilian fell to the ground, blood flowing, making the already panicked crowd even more chaotic.
And so, the looting began.
The rebellious soldiers shot for wealth and women, and some did it purely for entertainment...
Alister watched attentively as a struggling mailman caught his eye.
The thin mailman was being beaten by a soldier, while his wife was taken away by another soldier...
"You damned bastard!" the mailman gritted his teeth.
The soldier smirked and didn't reply, just continued to brutally beat him with every punch landing hard on his body.
Alister silently observed, perhaps, as the master of this illusion, he could intervene.
But Alister chose not to.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" the mailman screamed as the soldier left, his body covered in bruises and swelling, painfully holding his head.
He broke down for a long time, then suddenly clenched his fists and pounded the ground in a fit of rage, cursing in anger...
"Player status has been granted. You will participate in the Sequence Game."
The light blue system interface couldn't dispel his murderous intent.
...
...
The scene faded, and a new one began to take shape.
Here was a military department in Germany, the mailman carrying a package slowly approached the officer's office.
The surrounding soldiers in military uniforms looked at him with disdain and threw hurtful words at him.
"He's the new recruit they specially recruited?"
"What trash! How can such a rubbish join our military department?"
"I heard it was because of his wife's hard work that he was allowed in. Hahaha!"
"Tsk tsk, it's true, a backdoor scum..."
Alister quietly observed the mailman as he clutched the package tightly, containing his wife's cherished jewelry.
Then the scene changed again, becoming narrow and dim, with only a faint yellow light illuminating the world.
A table, a chair, a lamp...
The officer, showing his A-tier Sequence title, smiled ambiguously, taking out a photo and handing it to the mailman who stood with clenched fists.
"Your wife has been rescued by our military department. This is a recent photo of her."
In the photo, the woman covered in wounds, wrapped in bandages, lay unconscious on a chair in a narrow prison cell.
The mailman stared at the photo with a determined expression and asked in a low voice, "What do you want to say?"
The male officer leaned back on his chair, nonchalant, and said, "Your wife can die at any time, either from lack of medication or from your disobedience."
The mailman's head jerked up, his fists clenched, his nails seeming to embed into his flesh.
The room dimmed, and the officer's peaked cap cast a growing shadow...
"Do you understand what you need to do?" The officer crossed his legs and said indifferently, "From now on, you are a dog of the military department, and no disobedience is allowed."
A long silence filled the air...
"...I'll join the military department." The mailman still kept his head down, gritting his teeth, "But you must let go of my wife."
"Hahaha..." The officer lit a cigar and made grand promises, "As long as you obey, we will treat your wife and..."
Leaning forward, he savored the mailman's expression, like a devil, the officer raised a finger and made a sinister proposal, "...as long as you kill one million enemy units, you can redeem her."
The mailman bit his lip, silent. He knew the difficulty of achieving this goal.
After a few breaths, the smoke from the cigar filled the narrow, dim space.
"...If you dare to deceive me, I will torture you."
Having made such a declaration, the dangerous young mailman signed the military department's confidential document.
...
...
The scene continued to change, blood flowed in the world, and war and smoke filled the scorched earth.
The mailman... no, he was now known as Death's Leader.
Death's Leader carried out his missions alone, each time struggling amidst death, desperately striving for the elusive one million goal.
He ventured alone into dangerous war zones, crossed minefields, entered enemy camps, killing all in exchange for more advanced military weapons.
He single-handedly cleaned up the mess for the military department, confronted large-scale enemy suppression alone, died countless times, and had long lost any emotion.
Perhaps only the beating heart still marked him as "human."
Death's Leader became indifferent to death, and perhaps his pain receptors had degraded; he was like a demon from hell, with firearms as his closest companions.
In one extermination mission, Death's Leader encountered a witch, an A-tier formidable existence.
That terrifying woman treated Death's Leader as a mere experiment to test her new magic, and she smirked, suggesting, "You will be the most suitable soil for the Bloodthorn's Flower of Guilt."
From Death's Leader's face, Alister saw not resistance but acceptance, acceptance of pain.
"Why is this world so painful, and why do I exist only to endure pain?" Death's Leader felt deeply unjust.
"Then let's destroy this world, so no one will suffer anymore." The witch answered his doubts in this way.
And so, Death's Leader went mad, or perhaps he feigned madness...
Alister watched Death's Leader for half a lifetime, rising from E-tier first to D-tier top hundred, constantly killing, and saw him starting to enjoy the deaths of living beings.
Finally, Alister saw Death's Leader, now D-tier first, going mad enough to kill even the military department.
The officer who once threatened him lost in the collapsing ruins, no longer the arrogant B-tier player.
Death's Leader had no emotions, just coldly watching him.
The officer turned pale, and in his last moments, he looked up at Death's Leader with a bitter smile and said, "I didn't expect you to care so little about your wife... Haha... You madman..."
Death's Leader fell silent for a moment, raised his firearm, and said, "A life of captivity like this is worse than letting her die. This world is more painful than hell."
"So, where is the meaning in all these years of your constant killing?" The officer tried to counter him with the sunk cost theory, sneering, "You've killed hundreds of thousands, and you can redeem her soon, right?"
"What's the point of redeeming her or not? You bunch never saw me as a human..." Death's Leader laughed and looked amiable, benevolent.
With a bang, the officer's head was pierced, blood soaking the steel and concrete, soaking the yellowed photo.
"It doesn't matter. If I want to kill, I'll kill."
Redonning his peaked cap, the now middle-aged Death's Leader smiled, relishing the feast of pain brought by this war.
His heart, cursed by Perpetual Night's Lament, beat slowly but forcefully.
...
Alister sighed after observing Death's Leader's life and then intervened in the world, rewinding time back to the initial point.
On the street, newspapers fluttered, and the mailman, with a bruised face, knelt on the ground, hating himself for being unable to protect his wife.