Death Game: Starting as a Trickster, Pretending to Be a God

In Yanjing, inside a private psychological clinic perched atop a high-end office building, a middle-aged man with a meticulously groomed mustache and a fitted turtleneck sweater stood by the cold brew coffee machine, quietly waiting for his coffee to finish brewing.

A crisp "click-clack" sound echoed from beyond the open office door, growing closer and closer.

When the footsteps stopped at his office entrance, Wundt let out a faint sigh.

"Nineteen... did the Diviner send you?"

The young man poking his head in at the doorway looked fresh and sunny, like the second male lead of a campus idol drama.

He wore a gray-blue checkered coat over a slightly loose white shirt, sky-blue casual trousers, a pair of flashy streetwear sneakers in garish colors, and a bone-conduction sports headphone hanging around his neck.

"Aw, Teacher Feng, now look how you're putting things," the young man named Nineteen said, a thick Tianjin accent rolling off his tongue. "It's not like I'm one of those people, treating Brother Zhan like my master the way Fish does. It's just that my aunt just opened a dumpling joint down in Yanjing's South City, so I swung by to grab a free meal and figured I'd pay you a visit while I'm at it. That's called proper etiquette. Can't forget your roots, you know!"

"Nonsense, kid. Even if your boss didn't send you, you must be here about the Lacan business, right?" Wundt took down his ceramic mug and gave the coffee machine a pat. "Want some coffee? Fresh batch of beans, real good quality."

"I don't fancy that Western soy milk crap. Keeps me up half the night and gives me the runs," Nineteen waved a hand dismissively. "I only drink tea. And only top-grade black tea at that. Chinese folks drink Chinese beverages!"

With that, he pulled a one-liter bottle of iced tea from his coat, plastic bottle beaded with tiny condensation droplets as if it had just come out of a refrigerator.

Nineteen twisted off the cap and took a hearty gulp, then shook his entire body with a shiver.

"Whoo. That hits the spot!"

Wundt savored a sip of his coffee before speaking up. "So, you really are here about Lacan's situation, aren't you?"

Nineteen chuckled lightly. "Heh, well, of course... after all, that's the legacy of the first-generation Freud we're talking about."

"Though I never got to see the man in person, as for him... our Brother Zhan holds him in very high esteem."

Wundt nodded. "So, the Marauders plan to send you to join in on the fun, huh... A solid choice, really. After all, your ability to adjust your strength and Rank at will, a trick that even confuses the Death Game's judgment, is truly one of a kind among Players."

"Using that in this kind of situation is just about the most perfect fit possible."

Nineteen nodded. "That's the logic of it, yeah. But there's another important reason they sent me: there's really no one else available."

"Brother Zhan and Sister Tian can't show their faces in the dungeon. Little Bai's got other tasks. Neptune's got to keep an eye on the Player Mutual Aid Association. When it comes to idle hands with enough juice to meddle in this mess, it's just me."

Nineteen spread his hands as he spoke.

Wundt looked at Nineteen, leaning slightly against the wall. "If I may ask... what's White Sand off to do?"

"That's indeed a nosy question, Teacher Feng, but no harm in telling you since it's your Psychological Society that posted the bounty anyway," Nineteen said with his arms crossed. "Little Bai's planning to go make trouble for that Director, see if he can get his hands on the Earth Scroll."

Wundt took a sip of coffee, his brow furrowing.

Nineteen caught the expression on Wundt's face and sensed something was off. "Teacher Feng, what's with that look?"

"Because the bounty post from the Hunters' Association wasn't posted by our Psychological Society," Wundt said slowly. "We held a council meeting before, and we all assumed it was your Marauders who put it out."

"We also dispatched two A-ranked Specialists to investigate the Director's movements, preparing to ambush him in the dungeon."

The atmosphere in the psychological clinic grew subtly tense and silent.

Both Wundt and Nineteen knew there was no reason for the other to lie.

So with their accounts cross-checked, a question surfaced.

Openly putting a bounty on a member of the Order, and one who was currently in the spotlight having just accomplished a major feat, meant the one issuing the bounty had absolutely no fear of the Order's retaliation.

And being able to offer a "top-tier" item spanning three worlds didn't seem like something an "individual" could pull off. It looked more like the work of an "organization."

Among the player organizations daring enough to openly show their cards against the Order, there were only the three that couldn't get on the forum.

"It's not your Psychological Society, and it's not our Marauders either," Nineteen said thoughtfully. "Could it be the Free Alliance?"

"Impossible. For one thing, their new member seems to have some connection to the Director. Based on how our member Citalopram interacts with their member Designer, it's highly unlikely they'd put a bounty on the Director... And on top of that, one of the three items offered as 'rewards' is the Echo of Mu Continent. That makes it even more impossible."

"If anyone in the Free Alliance held that item, they would absolutely never offer it up as a reward."

As Wundt spoke, Nineteen nodded along.

"That does make sense... So, who did it then?"

Nineteen asked the question, and Wundt pondered for a moment before responding. "As it stands now, it seems both the Diviner and Bandura's speculations were correct..."

"There truly is another organization lurking in the shadows behind all Player activity."

Hearing this, Nineteen mulled it over. "But then, why would they step out of the shadows and surface for the Director's sake?"

"He's only a Second Tier. Is it really necessary to make such a big fuss over him? Doesn't seem like a good cost-benefit ratio, does it?"

Wundt shook his head. "Their motives, I couldn't tell you... In any case, I'll have my A-ranked Specialists stand down and stop getting involved in this matter."

"I'll give you a word of advice. White Sand had better not participate either."

Nineteen laughed. "You flatter me, Teacher Feng. There's no way I could talk Little Bai out of anything. Brother Zhan actually tried to persuade him before, but Little Bai won't listen."

"Just let the guy do his thing. As the saying goes, children have their own blessings."

"Besides, the Director matter isn't urgent. What's important right now is... our Marauders received intel that besides the Order, that Tycoon fellow from Jiangcheng will also be joining in."

"His goal should be different from all of ours. Rather than getting his hands on what the First Generation left behind, he'd probably prefer to screw you guys over in a big way."

"So, tell Lacan to watch his back."

Wundt nodded. "No matter. The Order, the Night Watchmen, the Player Mutual Aid Association... they might all get involved too. We've already anticipated all of that."

"So, the one going this time isn't just Lacan alone. Two of our three S-Class Specialists will also be on site!"

"The first to enter will be that First-Tier, Chlorpromazine, the most promising rising star in the Executive Department."

"When the time comes, who's the hunter and who's the prey, that's still anyone's guess."