Cyrus lay curled up in bed, the glow of her smartphone casting an eerie light in the dark room.

It was the middle of the night, and sleep was a stranger. The day's oddities had left her with a sense of unease that kept her eyes wide open.

Throughout the day, Cyrus had been refreshing the beta testers' forum, reading posts in languages she barely understood. She had wanted to screenshot and translate them, but her phone blocked the function. Her only option was to manually transcribe the foreign characters onto paper and then take a picture to translate.

The forum's registered numbers were climbing, as were the posts. Many shared her confusion about the "Six Pieces of Advice" and the forum's glaring count of ten thousand survivors.

Others had received the same silver card as she had, delivered to their addresses, which they had never provided to the game's official website.

Cyrus clicked on the English thread with the most replies.

The original poster had expressed concern about the lack of privacy in the age of big data and questioned the game officials' method of obtaining their addresses without consent. They threatened legal action if there wasn't an official response.

One reply stood out: "This doesn't feel right; it's like something out of a ghost story. I live in the countryside where deliveries are infrequent, but guess how my game card arrived? My cat brought it in from outside, and there it was with my real name and forum number. It's just absurd!"

24L: "I live in the countryside too. Found my card in the chicken coop while collecting eggs, scared the life out of me..."

36L: "I ordered a home appliance online, and when I unpacked it, there was an extra box inside. I thought it was a free gift from the seller, but it turned out to be the game card!"

The situation was not just bizarre, but also sinister.

The numbers corresponded to the order of forum registration. How could the cards, which required time to produce, be delivered so quickly after registration? And the methods of delivery were too varied and strange, casting an eerie pall over everyone involved.

Cyrus exited the thread and opened a post where players showcased their cards.

The poster had censored their real name and player number before showing their card, which was slightly different from Cyrus's.

Instead of a mechanical hand, this card featured a pair of scissors, sharp and menacing. While Cyrus's card bore the prefix "Dispossessor," this player's card was prefixed with "Executor," not "Dispossessor."

Why this distinction? What was the difference between a Dispossessor and an Executor?

Cyrus frowned in thought.

After browsing the forum for a while, she noticed a pattern. All showcased cards bore the prefix "Executor." None matched her "Dispossessor" title.

She reached over to her bedside and picked up her shimmering silver card. Her real name and number were etched into it, a form of identity within this world. What puzzled her was the meaning behind "Dispossessor."

The day's events had left her in a fog of uncertainty.

She glanced at the time: 23:59. Midnight was approaching, and with it, the official start of the beta test. Cyrus sighed, massaging her temples in preparation for sleep, as she needed to find a summer job the following day...

The life of the impoverished was stark and uneventful.

Just as Cyrus was about to set down her phone, it vibrated with a notification. It was an announcement from the forum.

"All ten thousand beta testers have completed registration, and identity cards have been distributed."

"This non-chargeable, non-wipe beta test offers no shortcuts. Please remember the six pieces of advice as you explore your own endings."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"We wish all players an enjoyable experience. Now, the game begins."

The game begins?!

Cyrus was caught off guard by the message. Before she could react further, her surroundings changed.

Her phone vanished from her grip, and she was no longer lying in bed but standing in an endless void, enveloped by darkness. She saw nothing above and heard nothing around her.

Her peeling old house disappeared, the window's faint light from street lamps gone, and even the humming of the fan ceased. All was eerily silent.

The darkness engulfed Cyrus, inch by inch, consuming her. She tried to scream, but like a drowning person, no sound came out.

Then, consciousness slipped away.

...

"You have entered the new world."

"Please review your identity settings in this world."

"Name: Cyrus

Faction: The Federation · The Resistance

Identity: Core member of the Mechanism Dawn organization, trainee patrol security officer of the Federation's Enforcement Department's Field Team Seven, top-level Federation fugitive, undercover agent for the Resistance.

Mission: Steal classified information from the Enforcement Department, earn their trust, and provide intelligence support for Mechanism Dawn's secret operations."

A garbled electronic voice filled her ears, and she thought she saw lines of text flashing before her eyes...

Cyrus gasped in pain, her head throbbing intensely.

It felt as if an ax had split her head open, and her brain was on the verge of bursting.

"Suture needle," a man's voice said nearby. "Stitch her up. And give her another dose of the painkiller; she can't take much more."

Was she on an operating table? Cyrus couldn't open her eyes, but her consciousness remained surprisingly lucid.

She felt a sharp needle pierce her arm, and the painkiller flowed in, rapidly easing her headache.

This was no dream; no dream ever felt this vivid.

Cyrus realized something was profoundly wrong with her situation, something that defied all logic. Perhaps she was experiencing what only happened in fantasy novels or films—time travel.

She had traveled from her humble abode to an unknown location.

The painkiller had relieved her physical agony, allowing her to focus on her predicament. She felt anxious and panicked, but she knew she had to stay calm.

The "Perfected Realm" beta forum had announced the start of the game, and then she found herself transported elsewhere.

Cyrus speculated that she had been transported into the world of "Perfected Realm."

She had another identity in this world.

Focusing her mind, a screen of light abruptly unfolded in the darkness before her.

Displayed on it was the identity she had just heard in this new world.

—"Core member of the Mechanism Dawn organization, trainee patrol security officer of the Federation's Enforcement Department's Field Team Seven, top-level Federation fugitive, undercover agent for the Resistance."

Cyrus: Ah, this... My identity seems quite complicated.

She read through the information repeatedly, feeling helpless.

She didn't know what Mechanism Dawn was, but the term "core member" was telling enough. And the Federation's Enforcement Department... that must be an official entity. Even more troubling, she was also a top-level Federation fugitive. An undercover agent for the Resistance? That sounded downright dangerous.

Being undercover was a dead-end job!

Cyrus had seen enough spy thrillers to know that few undercover agents had happy endings. She felt her future looked bleak, with a tragic end beckoning.

The clinking of medical instruments continued, and Cyrus could vaguely sense the suture needle weaving through her flesh.

Her heartbeat, which had been frantic upon regaining consciousness, slowly steadied as her brain whirred and her emotions settled during contemplation.

After some time, Cyrus felt she could control her eyelids again as the anesthetic wore off.

"The meds should be wearing off; she's about to wake up," said the man who had been operating on her.

Cyrus had to abandon any thought of continuing to feign unconsciousness and slowly opened her eyes a crack.

The bright light was uncomfortable, and a silver glint kept moving in front of her eyes.

Blinking hard, Cyrus adjusted to the light and realized the silver wasn't from a lamp but the reflection on the surgeon's glasses.

She shifted her head slightly and looked around, bewildered at the circle of doctors and nurses who stood around the operating table.

"You're awake?" The bespectacled surgeon nodded at Cyrus. "The surgery was a success."

Cyrus decided to pretend she was clueless.

She mustered all her acting skills to look confused: "What happened to me?"

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look: "You poor thing. On your first field operation as an intern, you encountered an armed criminal... Alas, the criminal got away, and you took a blow to the head, resulting in a skull fracture..."

"Skull fracture?" Cyrus feigned bewilderment while secretly rejoicing inside.

A skull fracture was a perfect excuse to pretend to have amnesia! She hadn't inherited any memories from her previous life, which could easily give her away.

"Yes, a skull fracture. There was a big hole in your head, bleeding profusely," the doctor said kindly. "But no worries, what's old must go for the new to come, right?"

"What do you mean by what's old must go for the new to come?" Cyrus asked, her confusion genuine. "I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten quite a bit..."

"It's normal to be a little disoriented right now; things should clear up once the anesthesia fully wears off. Your skull fracture was quite severe, difficult to repair, so we replaced the damaged part." The doctor explained with a chuckle, "State-of-the-art federal technology: a super-light alloy skull. Now you won't have to worry about getting your head cracked open again while apprehending criminals on duty!"

Cyrus: "???!"

Great, she had just received the legendary 'iron skull.' Perfect!

In future brawls, a headbutt would leave her opponents reeling. She silently celebrated this unexpected upgrade.