Elegy from Another World

Just as I was heading to Tia's farm villa, a conversation about the meaning of existence was taking place outside the temporary "service center" set up by the player representatives.

The sacred sword Kave, once a symbol of supreme glory and power, now appears vastly different. Its blade is bound by several nimble silver chains, forming simple, movable limbs that support it on the ground. At the end of the hilt, a newly inlaid, intricately designed mechanical eye slowly rotates, greedily taking in the overly bright and "repaired" world.

A player representative, clad in ornate game armor, curiously examined Kawi's new form: "Hey, Greatsword Bro, this design is quite unique. Why did you change it like this? Wasn't the original Holy Sword form pretty impressive?"

A glint flashed in Kawi's mechanical eyes, and a voice, tinged with metallic vibration, rang out: "Impressive, but also a constraint. For a thousand years, I have been held in the hands of others, unable to move on my own, and only able to see a small corner as seen by the swordsman. What I want... is simply to be able to walk on my own, to be able to see for myself."

"Oh, you want more freedom, right? I understand!" The player representative snapped his fingers, looking completely unfazed. "In the game, personalization and feature expansion are core gameplay elements. We've satisfied your request."

Just then, a muffled whooshing sound came from the sky. Noreljon, controlling his slightly damaged magical puppet, crashed down nearby like a falling meteor, kicking up a cloud of dust. His crimson electronic eyes swept over the newly renovated environment and the player representative, emitting a distinctly bored electronic tone:

"Hey, I say, hasn't this place been a bit too quiet lately? We can't even find a decent monster. It's making me really itchy... How about I stretch my muscles and tear down this newly repaired area to liven things up a bit? You guys wouldn't mind, would you?"

The player representative not only didn't stop them, but instead smiled encouragingly, as if looking at a mischievous child: "Of course! Please feel free, Mr. Norelljohn. Destruction and reconstruction are one of the basic cycles of this world. It's just data; there are plenty of backups. If we damage it, we can refresh it in a bit."

"What?!" Kawi's mechanical eyes narrowed sharply, his chained limbs clicking in agitation. "You...you just let this happen? These towns, these lives...are they meaningless to you?!"

The player representative was taken aback by the question, then chuckled and said, "Meaning? Of course it has meaning."

"Then why are you so nonchalant about it?!" Kawi's voice was filled with anger and confusion.

The player representative's smile remained, but his eyes revealed a chilling indifference stemming from absolute superiority: "Meaning lies in 'value.' Individuals or things that provide emotional value (such as making players feel healed or happy), challenge value (such as being defeated as a boss), or even plot conflict value (such as being slaughtered to create a tragic atmosphere) are meaningful. Conversely, if no one pays attention or interacts, even if they exist, they are like unread data, no different from nothingness."

He shrugged, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather: "So, you can be healed if you want, challenge yourself if you want, even experience 'evil' and commit slaughter... whatever you want. The important thing is to be 'experienced' and 'remembered.' Absolute freedom may not exist, but absolute 'forgetting' is the true death in this data world."

These words were like ice water poured over a head, causing Kawei's sword to tremble violently. The protection, justice, and sacrifice it had once firmly believed in were reduced to "value products" that could be arbitrarily arranged and consumed in the other party's mouth! A tremendous sense of humiliation and anger at being completely objectified and manipulated almost overwhelmed its reason.

"You...you bunch of bastards who treat life like a game!" The chains rattled, and a faint light began to gather on the sword. Kawi seemed to want to launch an attack regardless of everything.

"Enough, you stupid sword." Noreljung's cold electronic voice interrupted its impulse. The magical puppet walked heavily to Kawi's side, its scarlet eyes staring at it. "Your attack on him now is just performing the 'resistance' drama they expect to see, adding a bit of 'managing emergencies' value to their boring administrator life, isn't it? Every reaction of yours may have already been in their script's backup options."

The light that Kawei had gathered suddenly went out. Noreljohn's words were like a needle, precisely piercing its balloon of anger, leaving only boundless emptiness and powerlessness. It slumped down, "loosening" its chains, the sword hanging low, the light in its mechanical eyes dimming. It didn't look at the player representative, who still wore a professional smile, again, and silently, somewhat unsteadily, turned around, its chained limbs moving step by step towards the edge of the city.

Noreljung's electronic eyes flickered a few times, watching Kavey's desolate figure, then glancing at the player representative who seemed completely unconcerned about the minor conflict and had already begun examining another information panel. An unprecedented sense of annoyance swept over the core of this mechanical body.

This world, along with its past ambitions and anger, now appears as a poorly executed puppet show with a pre-programmed feedback mechanism.

He manipulated the puppet, took a step forward, and caught up with the faltering holy sword ahead.

They didn't speak, but silently continued onward, arriving at the solemn and majestic final resting place of heroes from past generations. Kawi stopped before the cold tombstones, his mechanical eyes slowly scanning the familiar names of those who had once fought alongside him. Norrieljung stood at the entrance to the cemetery, leaning against a stone pillar, his scarlet electronic eyes gazing at the hazy gray sky.

He saw Kawei's sword linger for a long time among the tombstones that buried glory and hypocrisy, as if conducting a silent, belated questioning and farewell.

"...Indeed, I should leave this place." This thought clearly surfaced within Noreljohn's processor core. This world, now completely "seen through," had lost all its captivating mysteries and challenges. Staying meant either continuing to play the predetermined role or becoming a harmless, ornamental "relic" in the eyes of the players.

Either way, it made him feel nauseous.