《Bottom Ranker》 Chapter 001 - Zephyrdom As the sun slipped below the horizon, a veil of darkness descended upon New Paso City. But as the night fell, the soft amber glow of streetlights casted a warm, inviting glow upon the city streets, while the distant flicker of stars shone brightly in the vast expanse of Texan sky. New Paso City boasted an incredible nightlife. Even a leisurely stroll through the numerous buildings and houses made you feel alive in the moment. As the night grew darker, vendors set up along a wide street, creating a bustling yet peaceful atmosphere. There were no cars or vehicles to disrupt the scene. Instead, happy groups of friends, couples, and companions enjoyed each other''s company while savoring the sweet scent of freedom and the delicious food on offer. Despite all this richness and high living standards, just a few blocks away across the border, a different reality came into focus. There, a stark contrast awaited - one of destitution, impoverishment and widespread disparity. The dilapidated buildings, crumbling infrastructure, and squalid living conditions were a poignant reminder of the inequalities that plague a community of people living on the other side. In close proximity to the border lay a detention facility that reeked of injustice and unfairness. It operated not only as a holding center, but also as a heavily fortified prison. The titanium walls were impenetrable, with countless sensors and cameras monitoring every inch of the premises. A team of security patrols rigorously guarded the gates and passages of this inhumane institution. It was the year 2040 and while numerous families grappled with financial constraints, the majority of the populace was leading an idyllic life, shielded from the scars of war and the agony faced by marginalized communities. Despite the idyllic lives that many imagined for themselves in the North American Empire, Edward Larkson was not one of them. He was truly unlucky. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The president of the empire had decreed that all civilians in service to the government must undergo a thorough background check. Edward, who was a volunteer working on environmental projects and other public services as part of a federal volunteer program, was among those affected. As the clock struck five in the evening, Edward and the others were escorted into the confines of the prison facility. They were deemed to be a risk to the loyalty of the government due to their past votes for left-wing policies and leaders in recent elections. Despite its fa?ade, the structure was indeed a prison - an imposing example of brutalist architecture crafted to convey the principles of power and oversight. Once inside, the uncomfortable living conditions were apparent: the steel amenities offered little respite, and any semblance of life had been stripped away. Even the windows had been obscured with frosted glass, hindering both the penetration of natural light and the outside view. While it maintained its original outward appearance, the internal reality was far removed from the humane intentions of its initial design. The introduction of true artificial intelligence and technological advancements had brought about a revolution in the prison system, but unfortunately, it was not for the better. Virtual reality was no longer limited to gaming. An ingenious college student had invented a mechanism that increased the realism of the virtual world to nearly 100%. As a result, the largest private prison had patented its own version of this innovative technology making virtual death equivalent to actual death. And Edward Larkson was among the first 1000 ¡°beta-testers¡± selected. Zephyrdom was the name of this game console. What was once a medium of entertainment, had been retrofitted as a means of confinement. "Connection established," intoned a voice that was startlingly human in its realism. The flawless quality of the voice was unsurprising given the remarkable advances in voice cloning technology. "The designated pod bears the codename #FS-404 and belongs to Edward Larkson, a healthy 30-year-old male. All bodily functions are within normal parameters and no adverse reactions have been detected..." "Connection successful," announced the voice, signaling the commencement of the loading process. With a faint hum, the pod''s glass window began to disappear. The virtual world shimmered into view, and he felt a sense of dread wash over him. This was it. The ultimate prison. A death game promised to kill the user if their health points dropped to zero. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he braced himself for the journey ahead, knowing that the only way out was to survive until the end. Chapter 002 - Chains of Authority ¡®GET UP TRAITORS.¡¯ commanded Officer Eastwood, in a full set of black knight armor adorned with gold trims. The platinum blond officer swiftly pointed his sword at the hundreds of players rounded up in front of him. His deep voice echoed through the chamber of the dungeon. The middle-aged officer looks at Ivan and others with a cold, stern expression. "Listen up, maggots," he barked. "You will do exactly as I say, when I say it. Do I make myself clear?" Even dripping, chained and beaten, Ivan Duyne had composed himself, brave like a heroic champion. The snobbishness of these liberal degenerates, thought Officer Eastwood. Despite being shackled to prevent any movement, Ivan could still feel the oppressive atmosphere around him as he languished deep in the hold of Officer Eastwood''s underground dungeon. Down here, the dungeon stronghold was like a prison cell far worse than any built on Earth. The low ceiling pressed down on the 6 feet tall Ivan like a weight. The absence of windows made it impossible to tell the time of day. However, the flickering light of flames cast ominous shadows on the rough stone walls. Ivan''s world had turned upside down two hours ago when the patrolling officers snatched him away, blindfolded and helpless. Every moment since then had felt like eternity, and his fear only grew as he contemplated the possibility of being trapped here indefinitely. Shuddering in terror, he prayed for a way out. However, deep down he knew that his fate was out of his hands. Ivan blinked, his wet lashes framing his dark eyes, as strands of dripping hair fell into his face. His attire consisted of a sleek, tight-fitting wetsuit-like black uniform bearing a striking red geometric emblem resembling a devil. From a distance, it gave him an air of rebellion and criminality. But Ivan knew the truth: this upside-down red triangle on the plain and unremarkable uniform was a color-coded mean of identifying him as a prisoner. Officer Eastwood savored the horror that filled Ivan''s eyes and relished the fear and desperation that oozed from his every breath. Ivan knew what was coming; he had known the moment he laid eyes on the officer. "I have to admit, Senator Zurc was right about the Anti-fascists," Officer Eastwood remarked casually as he strolled through the dungeon chamber. His footsteps caused a sudden stir among the hundreds of captive men, many of whom were recent college graduates, and a few were boys just barely past their teenage years. Startled by the disturbance, some of the older men looked up at Officer Eastwood with a mixture of fear and resignation. "What do you mean?" one of them asked. Eastwood shrugged. "Just a bunch of entitled little snowflakes getting what they deserved," he replied dismissively before continuing on his way. "Spare them." Ivan croaked, his voice ragged with emotion. "Officer, please, if you ever felt anything, they¡¯re innocent people who have nothing to do with this." Officer Eastwood dismissed the pleas, preferring to savor this moment of pure, unadulterated power. The dungeon chamber was eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of dripping water breaking the silence. It was clear that he wielded absolute authority, allowing only what he deemed necessary to break the unsettling stillness. Ivan was helpless, his hands chained behind his back, his body awkwardly contorted as he struggled to find his balance. Officer Eastwood looked at the heavy iron chains binding the soyboy prisoners to the dungeon floor and felt a sick sense of pleasure. Ivan shook his head. "You can¡¯t take away our rights." "What rights? You ungrateful scum." Eastwood said, pausing, his voice dripping with disdain. He leaned back against an intimidating looking iron chair. "You forget just how lucky you are compared to the rest of the world." "Fuck. You." Ivan sneered, his eyes flashing. ¡°If you ever felt for the millions of --¡± Ivan began, but Eastwood cut him off with a harsh laugh. "You liberals always seem to be complaining about something," Eastwood said, his voice rising. "You have all these rights and freedoms, but you''re never satisfied. You should be grateful for what you have instead of constantly whining about what you don''t." "Please, listen to me. I beg you," Ivan said, his voice choked with emotion. ¡°These people are innocent. These people are good folks who love their country, and they do not deserve to be called traitors.¡± Ivan explained, ¡°They want everyone to be treated the same and have a good life. Everyone should have healthcare and education that doesn''t cost too much money. We should protect nature for we are stewards of the earth, and we have a responsibility to care for it.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. While Officer Eastwood observed the scene before him, an overwhelming feeling of disgust churned in his gut. The unabashed self-righteousness of these lowly individuals was simply nauseating. They clung to the misguided notion that there was some remnant of benevolence left in this world, as if their pitiful appeals to his morality could save them from their inevitable fate. But Eastwood knew better than to place any faith in the words of these worthless beings. "Beg me, then," Eastwood taunted, his voice laced with contempt. "Beg me on your knees to let them live. Do it." To his surprise, Ivan obeyed, dropping to his knees and begging for mercy. Eastwood watched with a sense of twisted pleasure, knowing that he had the power of life and death over this man. "You think I felt something for you?" Eastwood said, his voice cold and precise. "You''ve forgotten who I am." Ivan looked up at him with fury in his eyes, but before the officer could say anything, Ivan pulled against the chains with all his might. For a moment, Eastwood felt a flash of fear--what if the traitor managed to break free? But then, with a sudden, jarring movement, the iron clamped down even harder on Ivan''s wrist. The prisoner let out a gut-wrenching scream as the unforgiving metal dug deeper into his flesh, causing him to collapse in agony. Eastwood watched, his heart pounding, as Ivan writhed in pain, his anguished cries filling the dank, oppressive air. Officer Eastwood laughed in relief, enjoying the sense of power that came from knowing that resistance was futile and there was no escape from this virtual prison. "You have crossed the line, maggot. Your treacherous ideologies threaten to undermine the future of our great empire. Such defiance will not be tolerated." "You''re just a worm" Ivan spat. "You''re just a fascist worm. A pawn for the greedy corporate overlords. How many innocent people have you tortured? How many hard-working citizens will continue to die because of people like you?" "Everyone, including you." Officer Eastwood said, relishing the fear that flashed across Ivan''s face. The officer''s eyes narrowed as he spoke, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Do you really think you can make it out alive?" he said, his voice dripping with malice. "You''re going to dig, and you''re going to dig hard. If you don''t, you''ll be fed to the scorpions. They''ll tear you apart limb by limb, and there won''t be a damn thing you can do about it.¡± Inwardly, the officer was thinking, ¡°You''ll be lucky to survive the first week. And then, when you''re weak and exhausted, we''ll feed you to the scorpions." As Eastwood turned to leave, Ivan''s voice rang out behind him. "You think you can get away with this? You''re wrong," Ivan snarled, his voice shaking with rage and fear. "The truth will come out, no matter how hard you try to cover it up. And when it does, you''ll be held accountable for what you''ve done." Officer Eastwood froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He forced himself not to turn, not to take the bait. Every fiber of his being urged him to respond in disciplinary action, to put Ivan in his place, but he forced himself to remain calm. "That''s the trouble with you entitled bastards," he said calmly as he walked away. "You always think there''s hope." As Ivan cautiously peered outside, his heart sank at the sight of the barbed wire that encircled the desert compound. A large sign read "Emerald Lake Internment Village", a chilling reminder of his captivity. The towering walls were fortified with magic, and cannons were poised inward, leaving Ivan with the stark realization that escape was impossible.
Two hours later¡­ Edward was feeling somewhat dazed as the guard unlocked his restraints, but he managed to gather his wits as he followed the line of fellow prisoners out of the dungeon chamber. It was hard for him to believe that within less than ten hours of starting the game, all the players were gathered from the beautiful tutorial village and transported to an internment camp. "Be careful," an auntie Non-Player Character (NPC) whispered to him as Edward stepped out of the dungeon. Edward wasn''t sure if the woman meant for him to be careful going down the steps, or if she was telling him to be careful at Emerald Lake Internment Village. "Thanks for your kind words," he wanted to say. His mouth was still dry and his throat hurt. But he was gagged after a dissident named Ivan couldn¡¯t keep his mouth shut. They gagged the men who looked fit and strong. Stepping onto the dry, unforgiving ground, Edward felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. Beads of sweat dripped from the bottom of his chin as the elastic band of the wetsuit uniform suctioned around his thick, muscular neckline. He was still adjusting to his new body. Rather than his previous stature, which fell slightly below the average height for an all-American man, he decided to go all-in and increase his height to the maximum of six feet. After all, in a wish-fulfillment game, who wouldn''t opt for the ideal masculine figure? The sandy field was covered with a multitude of small, rough stones known as pea gravel. Despite the name, these stones were not ideal for comfortable walking, and the surface was particularly painful for those who attempted to traverse it without shoes. A woman and a man strode into the field of bumpy pebbles. Watching them warily, Edward indistinctly recognized the first as a female security agent. The second was a sharp-dressing stranger: a dark-haired, clean-shaven man wearing a great suit, silver watch, and a pair of shiny leather shoes. The man¡¯s eyes widened. Bound and under heavy iron cuffs was a male prisoner unlike any he had ever seen. He possessed a formidable, muscular physique that commanded attention, and unlike the other prisoners in the camp who wore flimsy low carbon steel chains, he was bound with real restraints. Thick cords secured his legs and torso while his wrists were lashed behind his back. Even though he wore a tight wetsuit uniform, the raw power of his body appeared barely contained. His intense, dark eyes blazed with fury above the gag. ¡®This is the slave that is being presented to the Captain?¡¯ whispered the tall suited man, the voice too faint over the harsh wind of the desert. The agent beside him nodded. ¡®You say he¡¯s dangerous. What was he in real life? A criminal? A genius tech hacker? ¡¯ The agent indicated Edward''s floating name-tag and instructed, "Ensure he remains restrained. FS-404 is a high-priority on the watch list. A total of ten guards were needed to corner him and subdue him at the tutorial village." "I understand," the man responded, his expression turning scrutinizing. "Ensure he remains gagged and shorten his chain for the physical inspection. Additionally, appoint a suitable commander to oversee him. If he causes any problems, take whatever measures necessary to keep him in check." He spoke indifferently, treating Edward as if he were inconsequential. It was dawning on Edward that his captors did not care for the identity of their prisoners. They were just nameless prisoners of war. The Empire has a knack for cooking up wars every ten years or so to serve their imperialist agenda. It''s just a scheme they use to justify their shameful track record of committing war crimes around the world. He let out a measured breath, determined to keep a low profile and avoid drawing any attention to himself. The Empire viewed every incarcerated individual throughout its history as nothing more than insignificant slaves whose sole purpose was to generate revenue for the prison system. Speaking out could spell certain doom for him, leaving him unable to survive even one night. To be deemed a valuable asset and to stand a chance at survival, Edward knew he had to be viewed as fit and able-bodied. His limbs were restrained and his neck chain was shortened, forcing him to bow his head and limiting his view. The guards positioned themselves beside him. Moments later, the air crackled with energy as an obelisk structure hummed to life. A burst of magic erupted from its surface, coalescing into a swirling and pulsing mass of light that formed a portal. Edward sensed the tense silence that hung heavy in the chamber, and he felt his own heart race with anticipation. There was a commotion as voices and footsteps signaled the start of the inspection. Chapter 002.5 - The Profitmaster Emails To My Most Trusted Senior Manager, I have been made aware that one or more of your employees have chosen to join a union, which contradicts our company''s principles and regulations. Let me make this perfectly clear: "Anyone who thinks they can avoid the consequences of their actions will face standard repercussions, regardless of any vain attempts and excuses. To be frank, I have confidence in your ability to uphold the company''s mission and values. I believe you wouldn''t act in a foolish manner and stray from what we stand for. However, I do suggest you carefully consider any decisions you make to avoid any mistakes. In the meantime, we must make the best of the situation. There is no need to despair. Hundreds of these adult contract workers who were laid off in the previous years will be with us to fill in some of the temporary vacancies from all the laid-off tenured employees. One of our people is inside the union organization itself. Union can be useful to us. Do not get me wrong. I am not talking about giving our employees more days to spend with their families or providing them with good benefits. A hardworking worker, say Benjamin for example, will only see the union as an outdated institution in their field of work. When Benjamin sees a local union activist passing around pamphlets, Benjamin will not understand what exactly are the benefits of being a union. After all, Benjamin still thinks that it¡¯s a ratrace, a never-ending competition for success and status. Why would Benjamin want to make lives better for other people? Take advantage of Benjamin''s vulnerability when he attends union meetings after work. Instead of recognizing his fellow working class people''s humanity, divert Benjamin''s attention to their flaws. It''s essential to highlight their negative traits and peculiar clothing choices, rather than their admirable qualities. Whether it''s a kind-hearted hippie who enjoys hiking or a staunch progressive, avoid showing Benjamin their positive attributes. This way, Benjamin will be more susceptible to believing that joining the union is a foolish decision. Currently, Benjamin has a misconception of what it means to be a "Union member." He believes that it signifies a well-off, middle-class worker, but in reality, it''s mostly for show. His mind is preoccupied with notions of financial security, the ability to provide for a family, and purchasing a spacious home. Therefore, seeing other unsuccessful union members during the meeting will be a hard pill for him to swallow. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. To maintain this misconception, it''s crucial you monitor his communication. Make sure he doesn''t have the opportunity to question his preconceived notions about what union members should look like. Keep his thoughts and ideas about unions fuzzy and indistinct for the time being, and you''ll have plenty of time to manipulate him later on. Ensure Benjamin''s disappointment is intensified during his initial weeks as a union member. Once again, I emphasize this: Make it seem disappointing and frustrating. This feeling can be felt by anyone, including a nurse like Sally, who works long hours for low pay and becomes frustrated when the union is unable to advocate effectively on behalf of her and her colleagues. Even a seasoned factory worker like Jack, who has been a union member for decades, may feel the disappointment when the union becomes less responsive to the individual needs of its members. This feeling is a part of every person''s life and replaces hopes and desires with the monotony of the cold, hard reality. Unions take this risk because they aim to raise the status of workers in an unjust world, even if it means sacrificing the hopes of individual workers. One of the risks it takes is that these unions are just made of workers such as themselves. There¡¯s no overlord telling them what¡¯s right. What is set before them is a democratic voting process so that they can decide for themselves. And therein lies our opportunity to manipulate them and brainwash them to our capitalist agenda. However, we must also be cautious of potential dangers. If they succeed in building relationships with each other and overcoming the initial challenges of organizing, they will become less susceptible to fear and consequently much more difficult to manipulate. This is of course assuming that these union members at the meetings are the quintessential examples of perfection. If they disappoint, then you will find it easier to manipulate them. Your job is to make sure that Benjamin does not question whether his fellow workers, who are also exploited by the capitalist system, are also human beings with their own emotions and aspirations. Benjamin may not have had the chance to build his social network, either due to starting a new job or having to work overtime to make ends meet. Benjamin has not yet grasped the concept of being politically active. By simply joining a union, he believes that he is participating and making a difference. He treats it as a passive activity where he earns "contribution points" for doing nothing. He may think he is politically active but in reality he is just another example of fake performative-activism. Your goal is to keep him believing in the lies that he tells himself. Forever turning the world upside down, Profitmaster, CEO of WealthCraft