My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 114 The End of the Game

"You will stay on the second floor, and I will reserve your place as a 'Iron King Candidate'."

Karl took a step forward, his green pupils gleaming faintly in the night.

"In another year, I will gather a new team and hold another brutal game. You will once again participate in the game and compete with other players for the qualification to become the Iron Emperor."

"So, you're planning to end this game?" Simon asked calmly.

Karl sighed deeply.

"The sole purpose of the Slaughter Game is to select one person to become the next Iron Emperor. To achieve this goal, I observe everyone who enters the Abyss, record their choices, analyze their weaknesses, and determine whether they are qualified to become the new Iron Emperor."

"At this point in the game, in my opinion, none of you are qualified."

"Sister Sissi." Karl looked at the silver-haired figure behind Simon and said the name with a contemptuous pity in his voice, "A woman who only lives in grief and the past is not qualified to drive the chariot of the Empire. She is not qualified."

He shifted his gaze to the direction where Chalasu had disappeared.

"Chalasu, I've been tracking his psionic signals. He's one of the strongest known necromancers in the third layer of the Abyss. He can do anything with that power—overthrow Imperial outposts, unify the heretical tribes of the third layer, even challenge me. But what has he done?"

"He locked up his psychic powers for decades, it's ridiculous."

Simon stared at the man in front of him, his eyes slightly narrowed, without immediately refuting him.

"Wilson and Sophia used all their strength to protect each other. One thing Sophia did every day in the camp was to press her forehead against Wilson's chest and listen to his heartbeat. She was afraid of dying and losing him, but they only had fear and only each other."

Carl shook his head with a wry smile, as if reading a verdict: "To be a pair of ants in the abyss of emotions is ultimately just being a pair of ants; they are unfit."

"That adventurer—" Karl waved his hand, his tone even carrying a hint of impatience.

"That guy wouldn't even tell me his own name, saying that name doesn't matter, adventure is what matters—his purpose in entering the abyss was to explore, and explore some more, until he died, becoming a skeleton, a complete idiot! A mere tool! Unqualified!"

After saying this, Karl withdrew his gaze and looked back at Simon. The light in his green pupils gradually dimmed, as if covered by a thin layer of gray.

"And you, Simon von Aalt."

When he pronounced the name, his lips lingered longer than usual on each syllable.

Complex emotions surged across his mutated face. Simon discerned one of them: resentment and unwillingness, yet a deliberate attempt to maintain calm.

"You are the one who surprised me the most among all the candidates because you did something I thought no one could do: you brought all the adventurers, aliens, cave raiders, and even the nuns of the Empire to the same battlefield and made them fight side by side."

But then he suddenly changed the subject.

"You only did one thing wrong, and that was not following my rules."

Carl's lips curled up into a smug smile, as if it were all perfectly natural.

"If you don't follow my rules, then you naturally don't deserve to become the Iron Emperor. Isn't that just common sense?"

Seeing his smug look, Simon couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth, as if watching a clown's performance.

But the next moment, he spoke up: "Does the true Iron Emperor need to abide by your rules?"

The smile on Karl's face vanished completely.

Does the true Iron Emperor need to abide by his rules?

If there truly exists a powerful being capable of ruling an empire, conquering the abyss, and making all forces kneel and submit before him, why should that person abide by the rules of the game set by a madman who is barely surviving in the abyss?

Simon seized the opportunity when Simon was distracted and pressed his advantage.

"And you said I didn't follow your rules? When did I not follow your rules?"

"The Slaughter Game hasn't had a single casualty yet, all thanks to you." Karl took a deep breath, struggling to suppress the anger in his voice. "No killing, no scheming to collect the Slaughter Bees, you've turned this game into a childish farce!"

"Cooperation is a problem-solving approach you didn't think of, so you excluded it from your game —"

Simon was preparing to deliver a fatal blow to Carl.

"This illustrates a very simple fact." He looked directly into Carl's green eyes. "Your game is poorly made, Mr. Carl."

Green veins throbbed violently beneath Karl's pale skin, their glow flickering like a faulty lamp. He clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tensing into two hard ridges.

Karl's green pupils trembled slightly before Simon's eyes. He lowered his voice, speaking slowly and deliberately, "I will spare your life, Mr. Simon, because you are indeed a valuable subject of observation. As for the others, they are worthless, and this whole thing should be overturned and started afresh!"

He suddenly reached into his robes, but Simon wouldn't let him have his way—

With lightning speed, Simon brandished his harpoon and slashed fiercely at his chest.

Karl let out a scream as his arm was severed by the blade and fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from the wound.

Karl's blood was green, and the thick drops of blood fell to the ground, glowing with an eerie light.

The thing he tried to pull from his pocket fell to the ground—a small gun, or more accurately, a signal flare.

Simon would not give him another chance to resist, stepping on the flare gun and letting the sharp blade scrape across his neck.

"Let's end this absurd game. You are now my hostage. Order your men to leave the fortress!"

The row of machine gun ports and the cannon barrel on the fortress were like the Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, ready to take their lives at any moment.

Karl was still laughing, his distorted face looking grotesque under the fluorescent light.

"It's too late. My order is—if I don't give the signal, they will open fire at 1 a.m., which is—ten seconds from now."

The next second, the cannons on the fortress wall simultaneously spewed out tongues of fire.

The deafening roar of the cannons was deafening. The first round of shelling landed on the edge of the depression, and the exploding soil and gravel surged into the night sky like a black fountain.

The hostages screamed in terror. Klein dragged Sophia toward the flower field, Wilson shielded his wife's back with his body, the Imperial adventurer fell to the ground, cannon fire roared, and screams echoed from afar. Many people were injured by falling rocks, and the hostages suffered heavy casualties.

The gun barrel was also aimed at the direction where Simon was.