FLME Ch33: Battle Royale Recording

“…Everyone show your health bars. Show them first, then we talk cooperation.”

In the dimly lit banquet hall, Tong Li, Fan Xiangyang, Daniel Lee, and Yi Ming each occupied a corner, facing each other warily across the long dining table.

The atmosphere was tense. By this stage, almost every guest had realized that the most dangerous NPC threat this episode was the flock of brass birds. However, some had good luck—waking up in a basement with zero NPCs—while others had terrible luck, noticing the brass birds’ existence only after their health bars had dropped to a third.

Yi Ming and Daniel Lee were the unlucky ones.

They kept their hands tucked behind their backs, exchanging hesitant glances.

Tong Li paused briefly, then took the initiative to reveal her health bar. “I was in the basement ever since I woke up, and there were no brass birds down there, so I still have plenty of HP left. If needed, I can be the first to take the hit when we encounter NPCs later—after all, a hundred percent health and twenty-one percent make no difference. We can totally cooperate, on the strict condition that we never hunt each other. Who knows, maybe all of us can make it out alive.”

Yi Ming furrowed her brows in thought for a long while before finally relenting. She reached out her hand toward Tong Li across the table. “A gentleman’s agreement: no mutual slaughter.”

Tong Li clapped hands with her.

Yi Ming said, “From our observations, the damage from the brass birds stacks. The gaze damage from two birds is completely different from just one. When we move later, two people must be assigned to watch all directions at all times. These birds make very little noise and blend into the environment, making them hard to spot with the naked eye—much trickier to deal with than humanoid NPCs.”

Fan Xiangyang nodded. “Someone smeared ink over the eyes of a bunch of brass birds, rendering that batch completely useless. But there are still plenty of other birds around; we can’t let our guard down.”

Speaking of this, Yi Ming couldn’t help but chuckle. “I wonder which genius pulled off that good deed. In the secret room earlier, the one staring at us happened to be an ink-smeared bird, which was the only reason Daniel and I managed to keep our little lives.”

As she spoke, she extended her hand, revealing a health bar at a measly twenty-seven percent.

Daniel Lee gave a wry smile. “I have even less.”

He was down to twenty-five percent.

In other words, without taking any NPC attacks or running into accidents, maintaining the required twenty percent threshold meant Daniel Lee had roughly four hours of active time left.

Tong Li smiled as well. She had a strong hunch that this kind of exploit was eighty percent likely connected to Yu Wen.

“To be safe, let’s first try deducing our respective prey targets and share them out loud. That way, everyone knows who they need to watch out for, which is better for all of us.”

No one objected. Tong Li recommended heading down to the basement where no brass birds roamed. Just as the four of them were about to leave, Jian Heng came hurrying around the corner carrying his small satchel.

“Hey, you’re all here?” A sheen of light sweat coated his forehead, and he was panting slightly, clutching armfuls of gear of all sizes. “Perfect timing! Could everyone do me a quick favor? One of my missions requires taking a photo, ideally with everyone in it. Once it’s taken, I can unlock the other half of my clues…”

“Xiao Jian, isn’t this a bit out of nowhere?” Fan Xiangyang said, caught between laughter and tears. “We’re in Battle Royale right now, everyone’s a potential threat. You run over out of the blue wanting to take a photo—how do we know you aren’t trying to assassinate someone…?”

Jian Heng walked over to a dining chair and set down his items one by one: a lute, a palm-sized instant camera with a tiny label reading Image-Capturing Magical Device.

He rummaged through his satchel for a moment and fished out a card. “It really is a mission, look for yourselves.”

He handed the mission card over with complete openness. Fan Xiangyang hesitated before taking it, reading the text: O Bard who stumbled into the forbidden domain, if you can bring the images of the wandering souls in this castle before me, I will tell you everything you wish to know.

Daniel Lee examined it closely, confirming: “That’s right, the mission cards we found in the secret room looked just like this.”

Everyone’s guard lowered slightly. Besides, Jian Heng answered whatever was asked, looking as transparent as could be. As a newcomer, he didn’t necessarily know all the sneaky tactics; he might genuinely just be asking for help with a quest.

Fan Xiangyang reread the mission card, found no linguistic traps, and said, “We can do it, but which of us are wandering souls? Who’s dead?”

Tong Li said, “From what I’ve seen in past seasons, the hunting order is tied to character weaknesses. If it’s souls of the dead, the hunting order should correspond to how they died. Would they really hand that out this early?”

Daniel Lee spread his hands regretfully toward Jian Heng. “Powerless to help on that front.”

“Wait, does that even matter?” Jian Heng scratched the back of his head. “I’ll just snap a picture of all of you and bring it over for verification, right?”

Fan Xiangyang blinked, then gave him a thumbs-up.

“As expected of the youth, your brain works fast.”

Jian Heng replied sheepishly, “No, no, just a clumsy workaround…”

Tong Li asked, “How should we pose? Any specific formation?”

Jian Heng said, “No need, just huddle close together.” He directed them to stand in a line, set up the instant camera, and suddenly poked his head out from behind the lens: “Where’s Teacher Yu?”

The group looked at each other. Tong Li said, “No idea, we haven’t crossed paths yet. Wasn’t he with you?”

Jian Heng: “We bumped into each other once in between, but parted ways pretty quickly.”

Fan Xiangyang said, “He might be stuck in some secret room.”

“Missing one… doesn’t matter either…” Jian Heng kept his head down, mumbling softly under his breath so no one could hear, before looking back up with a bright, cheerful grin. “One, two, three… Cheese!”

After the photo clicked, he bowed politely and jogged back toward the room farthest to the right on the first floor.

The door shut. Jian Heng slid down against it, clutching his chest to steady his wildly racing heart.

“Whew… I really don’t have the stomach to play the villain. Scared the life out of me…”

Catching his breath, he walked over to the large full-length mirror in the room.

In front of the mirror were several glaring crimson blood-letters that had yet to fade. If the other guests were here right now, they would instantly keep a mile’s distance from him.

[O Bard who stumbled into the forbidden domain, you have pledged your loyalty to me. The great Demon King bestows his grace upon you: as long as you eliminate the soul he loathes most on his behalf, you will receive the key to escape.

If you can bring the images of the wandering souls in this castle before me… I will identify for you whether that soul is among them.]

Turns out my role today is actually an antagonist. Jian Heng gave a wry smile.

Tucking the mission card back into his coat, he thought: Thank goodness the crew wrote it so vaguely. Any more detail, and the secret would have leaked on the spot.

Jian Heng took out the developed instant photograph and pressed it flat against the mirror.

“Demon King, the soul you despise—who is it?”

A few words slowly materialized across the glass: Not present.

“Not present?” Jian Heng looked down at the photo. “You really only answer yes or no? Xiao Yu is the only one missing from this photo… The person you hate is the Hero?”

The mirror offered no response.

Jian Heng lowered his head, contemplating.

The Hero… that actually makes things easier.

The rules of Battle Royale permitted players to eliminate one another, but an incorrect hunt meant immediate disqualification.

If the Demon King hated the Dwarf or the Archmage or someone else, he would have had to calculate the predecessor in the hunting chain first, then team up with them…

And the person positioned directly before the Hero in the hunting chain happened to be him.

He had written in his poetry book: “That cross-hilted greatsword was awe-inspiring and majestic, yet all he could do was clutch it to his chest, quietly waiting for his soul’s end…”

Across the entire cast, only the Hero carried a cross-hilted greatsword. Without question, after the Bard wandered in, the sole person he had interacted with was the Hero. The Hero had slipped into eternal slumber listening to his lute; therefore, the method to eliminate the Hero was that very melody titled Greensleeves.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to play it.

Fortunately, Yu Wen did.

Jian Heng untied the silk scarf bound around the back of his hand, exposing the health bar he had kept hidden. Above twenty percent, the bar glowed blue; below twenty percent, it flashed red.

His gauge had already turned a precarious, alarming crimson—twelve percent.

Whether to restore health or claim ultimate victory…

“I have to make a move on you, Xiao Yu,” Jian Heng said to the camera.

At the far end of the corridor lay a smelting workshop.

Flames roared within the furnace, filling the air with sweltering, suffocating heat. Standing there for just a few moments, the back of Yu Wen’s shirt was already damp with sweat.

He rummaged around and pulled a journal out from a junk basket.

[The Demon King left a curse: a limit of seven days. Only the warrior who sacrifices a companion’s soul can claim the key to leave.

The Grand Archmage says the Demon King’s curse is as heavy and vast as unending mountain ranges.

He cannot break it.

I suppose it’s my turn to step up.

I am the greatest craftsman the Dwarven race has seen in thousands of years.

Here, I will forge the invincible Holy Cross Sword for the Hero.

The bravest warrior among us—only he holds the hope of cleaving open this cage!

And my duty is to forge him an incomparable, razor-sharp blade.

—The Dwarf.]

It was a hardcover notebook filled with extensive forging logs regarding the Holy Cross Sword, detailing the addition, modification, and experimentation of materials…

Yu Wen skimmed a few pages, somewhat surprised.

It’s actually possible to get another person’s notes…?

Could it be that this smelting room wasn’t originally intended for him?

If the director could hear his thoughts, he would definitely shout through a megaphone: Your clues were in the main hall!

Because Yu Wen refused to follow the standard path, the production team had no choice but to adjust plans on the fly, tossing clues regardless of who was originally supposed to find them—after all, late-game lore was largely universal anyway.

Yu Wen continued reading, uncovering some fascinating details amidst the seemingly dry smelting logs.

The Dwarf had no habit of recording dates. Rather than a formal diary, this notebook was more like a collection of rough drafts, messy and chaotic.

However, starting from a certain day, he began noting the passage of time.

[May 22]

I don’t know how long I’ve been here.

I don’t know how much longer I will stay.

My companions have perished one after another.

Leaving only me, wandering like a ghost through this colossal castle.

The Holy Sword is finished.

Yet the only person capable of drawing it is no longer here.

Once again, two crucial pieces of information: first, the Dwarf was the last surviving member of the Hero’s party; second, even after the seven-day deadline passed, he had not died.

Yu Wen raised an eyebrow and flipped backward through the entries.

Messy—truly chaotic.

It took him quite some effort just to parse out the paragraphs.

Yet the lore hidden within was exceptionally valuable.

The materials required for the Holy Sword are priceless and nearly impossible to find… I couldn’t gather much. I can only hope to succeed before the materials run dry.

…

First attempt: Failure.

One day really isn’t enough; I was too impatient.

…

Second attempt: Failure.

Perhaps I should be more meticulous, but there really is no time left!

The Grand Archmage was scratched by the ghost birds and wounded. Time stands frozen here; his wounds will not heal! If I don’t forge the Holy Sword soon, he will bleed to death.

There’s no time, no time left.

Dwarf, you are the greatest craftsman; you must become the sharp blade in the Hero’s hand.

Third attempt: Failure.

I am a failure of a craftsman…

The Grand Archmage is dead.

We suffered a frenzied assault by ghost birds while searching for the Princess. The Grand Archmage eradicated all the ghost birds, leaving no residual magic to hold his wounds together, dying all alone in his bedchamber.

I cannot bear this!

Holy Sword, Holy Sword, take form quickly! I cannot bear to watch another person leave!

Fourth attempt: Failure.

I’ve been injured…

The Elf exhausted her healing magic battling the frozen time to save me.

She told me the Holy Sword was our only hope, and only I could forge it.

She also said her soul would linger here for a long time, blessing me, the Hero, and the Princess so we could escape.

Between one life and three, she chose for the three to live.

Fifth attempt…

I no longer dare cast materials into the furnace.

I fear failure.

Only two days remain before the Demon King’s seven-day deadline. Like a broken old man, I begged the Hero: ‘Sacrifice me.’

‘Sacrifice me.’

‘That way, at least one of you can survive.’

Immersed in grief over losing the Grand Archmage, the Princess looked downcast and said after a long silence: ‘Sacrifice me.’

Yet—

O Hero, O Hero, at a time like this, how can you still smile!

Ha! You slapped my shoulder with bright cheer and said, ‘Don’t lose heart! Isn’t it just running out of time? I’ll just go win us some more!’

You assembled the Hero’s party with your own two hands; your eyes shine bright like gems—

Hero.

You can always impart courage to others with effortless ease.

Holding your notched blade, you set off to challenge the unending curse of magic.

You reminded me not to forget embedding the dragon scale onto the tip of your scabbard.

You said:

“I have already conquered the sky; now, I am going to challenge the mountains.”

Fifth attempt: Success.

The Hero never returned. I do not know if he is alive or dead.

The Princess said she wanted to try once too.

Try what?

I didn’t understand, nor did I have the time to understand.

I had to forge the Holy Sword.

The sole, fleeting hope of getting out.

Absorbed in forging the Holy Sword, I lost all sense of time, pouring my entire being into it, almost forgetting myself… This time, I finally succeeded!

Yet the Princess perished.

The Demon King’s soul… dispersed.

[May 23]

I forged the Holy Sword, but what meaning does it carry now?

My companions perished one by one; only I survived to live on borrowed time.

I no longer want to leave.

Let us keep each other company here for eternity.

[June 30]

A wandering bard stumbled inside.

I hadn’t spoken for so long. Like a traveler in a desert, I greedily talked with him for hours on end, recounting our tales, begging him to sing our stories to future generations.

He carried a lute with him. I asked him to play Greensleeves for me before I died—it was a song from my homeland.

Clutching the Holy Cross Sword, I wearily savored this fleeting moment of joy.

[July 6]

The Demon King’s lingering malice has resurged!

He bewitched the Bard, plotting to steal the Holy Sword.

Why?

In the Hero’s hands, the Holy Sword can cleave the curse of magic.

Could it be that so long as the curse remains unbroken, the Demon King will never truly perish?

Hero, O Hero, where on earth are you…

Exhausting my final ounce of strength, I pointed the scabbard’s tip toward the sky.

This is the Hero’s sword.

You can sense it, can’t you, Dragon?

The notes concluded here.

After finishing, even Yu Wen froze for two or three minutes.

The information overload was staggering… He needed to organize it.

First, it was confirmed that the Dwarf died at the hands of the Bard; otherwise, no one else should have died in an unthreatened castle.

The Hero and the Princess had each taken action, neutralizing both the seven-day time limit and the Demon King’s soul.

Through these notes, he could identify part of the food chain:

The Elf died to save the Dwarf → The Dwarf could hunt the Elf;

The Dwarf died at the hands of the Bard → The Bard could hunt the Dwarf.

After discovering the curse, the Bard was bewitched by the Demon King, obeying his commands in exchange for the key to escape.

He was the recorder, and also the participant.

Among the Hero’s party, the final survivor was the Dwarf.

That meant the person in Jian Heng’s poetry book who “clutched the greatsword, waiting for his soul’s end” was actually the Dwarf—because before the Hero challenged the curse, the sword had not yet been forged.

Having straightened out his thoughts, Yu Wen did a brief sweep of the room. Finding no further useful clues, he headed toward the door.

Carved into the secret room’s door were a few sets of 9×9 Sudoku puzzles. He glanced at them; they weren’t particularly difficult.

Filling them out swiftly, the secret room’s door slid open to both sides.

The exit connected directly back to the main hall.

Yu Wen looked up at the stained-glass dragon across the ceiling once more, then walked straight toward the dining table, intending to search for hidden mechanisms.

“Yu Wen… Teacher Yu!” Jian Heng poked his head out from around the corner, calling out enthusiastically, “Finally found you! There’s a secret room related to you over here, but I can’t solve the puzzle. Want to pool our clues?”

Yu Wen said, “Show me your health bar first.”

Jian Heng obediently extended his hand. “Eleven percent.”

Yu Wen: “Hah.”

Jian Heng: “I’ve already decided to lie flat! Winning or losing doesn’t matter anymore; the point is, since I came all this way, I have to at least find out what happened!”

His smile looked completely genuine, without a hint of deceit. Pondering briefly, Yu Wen asked, “Where is it?”

Jian Heng pointed toward the second floor. “Upstairs.”

“Let’s go.”

While heading upstairs, Jian Heng made casual conversation: “Teacher Yu, you mentioned earlier that you know how to play that… what was it, a lute?”

Yu Wen: “A little bit.”

Jian Heng: “That’s awesome! Could you play a tune for me in a bit?”

Yu Wen asked offhandedly, “What do you want to hear?”

“Greensleeves.”

Yu Wen’s footstep paused so imperceptibly it was almost impossible to catch.

Jian Heng remained entirely oblivious, rambling on: “I didn’t even know what a lute was, how would I know any songs? It’s just written in my poetry book…”

He had likely forgotten that Yu Wen had already read his poetry collection.

“Clutching the greatsword, waiting for his soul’s end”—it truly did sound like the Hero on the surface.

Yu Wen’s expression remained completely calm.

He smiled softly. “Sure.”

Yu Wen stared at the combination padlock in front of him, falling silent.

He asked, “You couldn’t solve a three-digit code?”

Jian Heng: “I couldn’t just guess them one by one, right?”

Yu Wen thought to himself: Brother, could you put in at least a tiny bit of effort? A code with zero prompts like this always defaults straight to public lore info. If you’re tricking me up here, at least put up a convincing act!

He swiftly dialed in 0-1-2—the year mentioned in the opening broadcast.

Click. The lock popped open.

Seeing that he didn’t seem suspicious, Jian Heng breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Then Jian Heng reconsidered: this friend of his was exceptionally sharp, capable of catching the slightest slip-up. He decided against making a move immediately, resolving to wait until Yu Wen lowered his guard entirely.

This was a small concealed compartment within a wine cellar. Outside stood wine racks, and Jian Heng had stumbled upon a small door hidden on the wall behind them, bearing a slip of paper that read: The Hero’s Collection.

He had been standing before this very door pretending to be stumped just moments ago.

Yu Wen fumbled for the light switch. A dim glow illuminated the cramped storage space, barely thirty square meters in size.

Inside sat an aged, horizontal wine rack. Its metal edges were rusted, but someone had wiped them clean and repurposed it as an ordinary shelving unit.

Currently, it held an eclectic assortment of random objects.

Yu Wen picked up a dragon scale.

Attached was a small slip of paper explaining why this item had been kept:

[A dragon’s scale!

Hahahahaha, it dropped it by accident! The pattern is all muddy and dirty, so ugly! Keeping it, so when I’m old I can take it out and make fun of it!]

A fractured gemstone:

[When rescuing the Princess, I fought the dragon and chipped a crown inside its cave.

Lord, I’ve never seen such a broke dragon.

Turns out that crown was the most precious thing in its entire cavern.

Fine, fine, thinking about it that way, it had every right to be mad.

We had a fight; naturally, I won.

I conquered an evil dragon!

That was truly exhilarating!

This gem is my battle trophy!]

A small cloth pouch:

[This is the wind.

The dragon had a terrible temper. The first time we met, its fangs tore across my back, leaving a long scar.

The scar looks hideous to this day; it will probably stay with me for life.

We fought tooth and nail, bruised, battered, and utterly filthy. The Grand Archmage said he couldn’t even find an opening to step in, and mentioned seeing me bite the dragon’s horn with my teeth.

Good grief, that’s pretty embarrassing.

I admit, I was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

But I refuse to admit defeat.

It didn’t stem from pride or ego…

Simply because I felt I could still grit my teeth and hold on just a little longer.

The Grand Archmage said I overestimated myself.

I shrugged.

So what if I overestimate myself? I always overestimate myself, and that’s why I can always achieve what ordinary people deem utterly impossible.

The brawl ended in a draw; both the dragon and I were spent.

In the end, we lay sprawled across the grass, staring up at the clear blue sky, unable to move even a single finger.

The dragon said: ‘You truly are a stubborn hero.’

I said: ‘You’re a bullheaded dragon.’

We locked eyes, and I burst out laughing.

The dragon said: ‘I admit I was moved by your tenacity.’ It lowered its head toward me, permitting me to stroke the crown of its head.

‘I am willing to submit to you,’ it said.

Whoa! What an exhilarating feeling—I conquered a dragon! Afterward, it invited me to ride its back and soar through the skies together!

The biting wind howled past my ears, yet all I felt was invigorating cool air. I think I have conquered the wind.

I weaved through the clouds up high, without a shred of fear. I think I have conquered the sky.

This pouch of wind is my battle trophy.]

A dried flower:

[The Princess’s friend; it withered, so I pressed it into a specimen…]

A peculiar stone:

[A strange stone from outside the Grand Archmage’s doorstep! Looking this bizarre, there must be a reason for it; I’m collecting it!]

…

There were countless items on the rack, chaotic and diverse, each labeled with a small note by the Hero detailing the backstory behind these fragments.

Yu Wen picked up a slip of paper from the floor. It had likely been placed on the shelf originally, slipping off because it wasn’t set down securely:

[Day -1]

I have resolved to challenge the curse of magic.

If push comes to shove, I will sacrifice myself so that at least one of them—the Princess or the Dwarf—can leave.

Of course, that is the worst-case scenario.

These are the treasures I carried with me.

I brought them along on countless journeys, but this time, I must leave them stored here.

If I fail to return and retrieve them…

To whoever finds this note: if you deem these worthless junk, please close the door and let them rest here forever; if you too find my collection intriguing, you may take them and sing their tales to the world.

Only, please treat them with kindness.

—A Hero’s plea.

Finally, an empty scabbard:

[The scabbard of the shattered Hero’s Sword.

The Holy Cross Sword has yet to be forged; I am left with only a notched longsword.

No matter—even with a chipped blade, I will charge straight ahead.

I once conquered the sky; this time, I will challenge the mountains.

What a pity, my friend, Dragon.

Unable to see you one last time is the greatest regret of my life.

Thank you for carrying me to conquer the sky.

For this campaign, I must embark alone.]