"It's already done."

"The players? Have they received their helmets?"

"They've already received them."

So fast?

Brian Carter was slightly surprised.

He remembered leaving the shelter at six in the morning, and now it was only about one in the afternoon—just a seven-hour gap.

"Does time here in the Wasteland really flow 1:1 with modern society?"

"Of course, but the time here corresponds to the UTC+4 time zone on Earth."

In the real world, Hua Country is in the UTC+8 time zone, which is about a twelve-hour difference from UTC+4. That means it's currently one in the morning in eastern Hua Country.

Brian Carter sat down in front of the computer and logged into the official website's backend.

Following his instructions, Little Henry had added a forum function to the website, but since there was no traffic yet, there wasn't a single post.

The database and illustrated handbook were the same.

"How do I upload photos from here?" Brian Carter pointed at the gallery on the screen.

"Just upload them directly."

"...I mean, how do I take photos? Or do you have something like a camera?"

Such a big shelter, and there's nothing at all on the entire B1 floor—it's ridiculous.

Not to mention keeping some weapons for himself, at least some basic survival tools should be prepared, right?

"Uh, probably no camera, but my camera lens can help you take pictures... What kind do you want? Right here?"

Looking at the robot in the corner that looked like a trash can, Brian Carter sighed and said,

"What's the point of taking pictures here... Forget it, I'll figure something out myself."

He couldn't exactly bring a mutant here.

But, taking Little Henry outside was worth considering.

Most mutants aren't interested in inedible hunks of metal. With a bit of camouflage and sticking it on the rooftop, it would be the perfect home security device!

The more Brian Carter thought about it, the more feasible it seemed.

He logged into his Penguin account using the computer in the residents' hall.

Brian Carter found that all four players had sent him private messages, asking which company he worked for, what exactly a fully immersive game meant, and what was up with the game helmets.

Honestly, Brian Carter didn't know how to answer these questions, nor could he tell them the truth about this world.

He could only make them believe this was a game world.

Only then could they descend as the "Fourth Calamity," fearless and tireless, becoming his strongest tools.

"Master."

"What is it?"

Seeing Brian Carter turn off the computer and stand up from the chair, Little Henry, squatting in the corner, asked curiously.

"Aren't you going to reply to their messages?"

"No need."

The more you explain, the more loopholes there are. It's better to brush it off with a line like 'corporate secret' or 'state secret.'

As for the rest?

Let them guess for themselves.

Otherwise, what's the point of having a brain?

Isn't it for making up stories?

Chapter 6: The First Batch of Closed Beta Players

"I am an NPC."

Saying this to the mirror, Brian Carter took a deep breath, straightened his collar, and tried to make himself look authoritative enough.

And expressionless.

Three days had passed since that day.

In just a few minutes, it would be time for the players to log into the game.

As for the blue jacket he was wearing, it was the same one he had on when he first crossed over to this world a long time ago.

Old Charlie from Bett Street had once told him that residents coming out of the shelter all seemed to wear this.

"I am an NPC."

Brian Carter practiced again in front of the mirror he had picked up outside.

The nature of this "new job" was completely different from his previous sales job. A warm smile and polite attitude should never appear on a manager.

After all, this was a wasteland where the law of the jungle ruled.

To survive here, he didn't necessarily have to look like a tough guy, but he at least needed to inspire enough confidence and a sense of security.

Touching the lines of his face, Brian Carter wondered if he should get a scar on his forehead.

Or maybe just go for a punk-style mohawk?

After all, this was a wasteland ruled by the law of the jungle.

Too handsome.

It would ruin the immersion.

"Master."

Still posing in front of the mirror, Brian Carter raised his chin expressionlessly.

"What is it?"

Little Henry whispered,

"According to the information I've found, NPCs in games usually don't call themselves NPCs."

His expression froze for a moment. Brian Carter coughed lightly and said,

"Of course I know that..."

Facing the mirror, he muttered again,

"...I am the administrator of Shelter 404."

Speaking of which, it was almost time for the appointment.

Three hours ago, the cultivation pod had already finished synthesizing the clones.

Earlier, he had agreed with the four "lucky ones" who got closed beta access on Penguin to put on their helmets before 9 p.m. Beijing time, find a comfortable position to lie down or recline, and log into the game right at nine o'clock.