player reload.

Chapter 450 Arrival (6K)

London time, 4:35 AM
One minute until the Crimson Warning is issued.

A light rain began to fall from the sky. This was the underground bunker at 10 Downing Street, next to Whitehall in Westminster, beneath a composite alloy fiber reinforced concrete protective layer tens of meters thick.

Britain’s elites navigated a complex network of tunnels, each with one or more telephones in hand, racing against time to gather intelligence, communicate information, and seek help.

The heavily armed police officers, plainclothes agents, and soldiers who were urgently dispatched had no idea what was happening and could only stand at the doorways of the corridor, acting as security guard sculptures.

At the same time, they listened intently, trying to piece together the truth of the incident from the snippets of conversation gleaned from the surrounding noise of phone calls.

The meeting room at the deepest part of the underground bunker was filled with smoke. The Indian Chancellor of the Exchequer, who had been brought in at the last minute, looked miserable and was smoking the most heavily.

The royal family and the prime minister and his wife made a strategic retreat immediately, and he, the finance minister, was temporarily brought in to act as a wartime leader.

Or rather, the biggest scapegoat.

His left hand, holding the cigarette, trembled uncontrollably. The Chancellor of the Exchequer could only slam his right hand on the table and shout with unwavering resolve, "Call for help from the GOC! Call for help from the Knights Templar! Call for help from Eurosonic! Call for help from Prometheus!"

The Prime Minister's private secretary lowered his voice and whispered in his ear, "The Templar Knights' extraordinary members are on their way, and several other guilds have also told us that they are gathering manpower."

In fact, four minutes is more than enough time for the major guilds to temporarily open a large portal and send a team of elite superhuman combatants, led by a level 35 leader and averaging level 25, across the ocean.

But a harsh reality is that, apart from the guilds in London and the Knights Templar, who possessed a spirit of religious martyrdom,

None of the other large guilds, which are usually friendly and harmonious and claim to be part of the Western civilized world family, came to help.
This includes the United States, which is nominally Britain's sworn brother.

The reasoning is simple: who knows what form a natural disaster at the deep red alert level will take?

What if the natural disaster abnormal fluctuation index is 5000 points? Is it because the prediction machine's upper limit is only 5000 points?

What if natural disasters spread in the form of psychological pollution?
What if a natural disaster permanently warps the minds of all superhumans and ordinary people within its reach?

Rather than trying to prevent a nuclear explosion, it would be better to wait until the nuclear bombs have detonated before various forces enter the scene to assess the situation, provide disaster relief, or take advantage of the chaos.

Anyway, they can run away but they can't hide. London is the Clock Tower Guild's stronghold, so they'll definitely be the first to take the lead.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer felt a wave of dizziness and quickly braced himself on the table, asking hopefully, "Where are the gentlemen and ladies of the clock tower?"

"we are coming."

A cold voice echoed in the void, and as a circular, light blue teleportation array with intricate and ornate patterns appeared on the ground, a group of men and women materialized out of thin air.

The leader was a middle-aged white man with a stern and unsmiling face. He wore a black wool coat, held an elderberry cane, and his sideburns were neatly combed.

Lv35, [Mobius]

The men and women behind him were all pillars of the Clock Tower Guild, all level 25 or higher. This included Nikolai.

"Mr. Möbius."

The Chancellor recognized the man before him; he was one of the eight Archmages of the Arcane Council of the Clock Tower Guild, a master of the Conjuration School, and the Guild's Secretary, in charge of finance and intelligence.

A level 35 extraordinary individual has already stepped one foot into the threshold of becoming a top-tier powerhouse.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously asked, "His Excellency Hohenheim, now..."

"You're out of luck. The Guild Master and the other six Archmages of the Arcane Council have all gone to explore the killing field and can't be contacted for the time being. The observatory is currently under the management of Merlin."

Mobius said calmly that the headquarters of the Clock Tower Guild is located at the Greenwich Observatory, 9 kilometers southeast of Whitehall, and is usually isolated from the observatory in the real world by spatial magic.

Visitors to the Greenwich Observatory and members of the Clock Tower enter and exit from the same place without affecting each other.

Mobius and Merlin are both Archmages of the Arcane Council. The latter is the Grandmaster of the Protection School and is currently ordered to stay at the Observatory to protect the Clock Tower headquarters with a large barrier.

While Möbius was speaking, Nikolai and the other mages were already waving their staffs and casting spells to reinforce the underground bunker.

Several of them formed a circle, their wands working together to unleash a stream of light that wove together a three-dimensional map of London, covering 1,500 square kilometers. Each faint blue dot symbolized a human being.

London has a population of eight or nine million.
Although Britain has a history of famines including the Bengal Famine, the Chaldean Famine, the Skull Famine, the Agra Famine, the Irish Famine, the twelve Indian Famines, and the Bengal Famine, its history is rich in history.
Although Queen Victoria's individual KDA is higher than the combined KDA of the second to tenth ranked players.
Although the British were the first to invent concentration camps during the Boer War in South Africa, which inspired an art student who wished to remain anonymous,

Although Churchill once said, "Whether there is a famine or not, Indians will reproduce like rabbits."
Although the British government concealed for decades the HIV-infected blood imported from the United States and used it to experiment on infected children in its own country.
But none of the above is important.
The important thing is that the Whitehall elites' own friends and family, the old Londoners with the Union Jack, haven't had time to evacuate from the city yet!
This is the most important thing.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer's expression changed several times. Just as he was about to say something, Möbius raised his hand to interrupt him, "Director Xing of the Yin City Special Affairs Bureau sent me a message saying that the mysterious person moving at the speed of light in the Western Pacific does not belong to the Special Affairs Bureau, and this matter has nothing to do with them."

The Prime Minister's private secretary instinctively asked, "Who could it be?"

"I'm asking you,"

Möbius glanced at them and said coldly, "Have you done anything recently that would be considered outrageous by others?"

Upon hearing this, all the elites in the Whitehall meeting room wore strange expressions.

That's too much.

When it comes to being inhumane, Dai Ying has always been inhumane. She has enemies, both old and new, scattered across the globe.

Möbius's lips twitched involuntarily. Now that things had come to this, he was too lazy to blame these people anymore. He took out his phone and said, "The Turing Department has provided the time and location of the two natural disasters."

One was 4.7 hours ago, in the western Pacific Ocean, at 30° North latitude.

One is 3 minutes later, at 51°30′N, 51.8°E, in Akmola Region, northern Kazakhstan.

GOC's Central Asia head is arriving in Akmola Region immediately. Although it won't be of much use.

Akmola Region covers an area of ​​146,000 square kilometers and has a population of only 700,000 to 800,000. Its economy is mainly based on agriculture and animal husbandry. It is a sparsely populated region in the traditional sense, the kind where you can usually see cattle and horses baring their teeth.

"I understand!"

Suddenly, the Cabinet Secretary jumped up from his seat and exclaimed, "London is located at 0.1°5′E and 51°30′N. He's trying to take advantage of the anchoring effect of the killing field!"

ha?
These words were puzzling, and the cabinet secretary couldn't help but take a deep breath.
He pushed aside the clutter on the conference table, took an orange from the fruit basket, gathered his thoughts, and spoke rapidly.

"This round tangerine is the Earth. The linear velocity of the Earth's rotation varies with latitude. At latitude φ, the linear velocity is 1670×cosφ km/h."

That is, the London line speed is 1060 kilometers per hour.

The speed limit in Yinshi is 1446 kilometers per hour.

GOC tested this several years ago: every time a player enters or leaves the killing field, no matter how long they stay there, their position in the real world remains fixed, with the rotating Earth as the reference point.

Otherwise, they would be flung away by the linear speed of over a thousand kilometers per hour and crash into buildings or mountains to their deaths.

However, this anchoring effect diminishes as players move further away from Earth.

"You mean"

The Prime Minister's private secretary also realized, "The source of that natural disaster deliberately flew into low Earth orbit to weaken the anchoring effect of the killing field?"

"That's right,"

The cabinet secretary nodded and quickly said, "Once a superhuman reaches near-Earth orbit and then enters the killing field entity, the anchoring effect will change from 'following the Earth's rotation' to 'following the Earth's revolution'."

He flew to near-Earth orbit, entered the killing field, and locked his coordinates in the real world at 400 kilometers above 51° North latitude, in the void of near-Earth orbit.

The time difference between Akmola Region in northern Kazakhstan and Yin City is exactly [time difference].

"4.7 hour."

Möbius gave the answer, a flash of surprise and astonishment crossing his eyes.

The arrogance of the idea, the precision of the calculation, and the sophistication of the method.

Using the Earth's rotation as a vehicle and near-Earth orbit as a highway, it shortens the journey by more than 6,000 kilometers in 4.7 hours with each step up and down.

"Wait, is this person a player?"

The Indian-origin Chancellor of the Exchequer belatedly realized, "Which guild is he from? The Laughing Theatre Company?"

It's true that Britain is a disgrace to the five permanent members of the UN Security Council; they have more army generals than tanks.
皇家海军119位将军、260位舰长，伺候19艘水面主战舰。平均每艘船上6位将军、13位舰长。

But even a weakened camel is bigger than a horse; it still boasts the world's sixth-largest GDP, strategic nuclear submarines, and top-tier guilds like Clock Tower.

Even the Laughing Theatre Company, known for its outrageous antics, wouldn't stoop to a terrorist attack in central London. This is truly a deadly, relentless pursuit.

No one could answer the Chancellor's question; the only sound in the large conference room was the ticking of the clock.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

London time, 4:38 AM.
One minute until the Crimson Warning is issued.

Low Earth orbit, International Space Station, Science module.

Ivan, who works for the Russian Federal Space Agency, stretched in zero gravity. With a cracking sound, he reached out and grabbed the handle on the cabin wall, "pulling" himself toward the computer.

The International Space Station is mainly operated by the space agencies of the United States, Russia, Europe, Japan, and Canada. It is already full of redundancies and bureaucracy, and in recent years, the GOC has been added to its list.

GOC is more domineering than NASA, assigning tasks to astronauts 24/7.

They're conducting scientific experiments, doing spacewalks, and using physical detectors to measure cosmic ray particles.

The only good news is that GOC is actually paying out money and getting things done.

The space station's outdated facilities were significantly refurbished, more components were added, and the habitable volume was expanded.

While it may not be as brand new and habitable as the Tiangong space station, at least we won't have to deal with the frequent, frustrating situations like excessive mold in the air or clogged and leaking toilets that require manual cleaning by astronauts.
Have you ever seen solid and liquid excrement floating around in zero gravity? (Image)
"Let me see, 51°30′N, 51.8°E."

Ivan recited the coordinates given by the GOC while inputting commands into the space station's computer, rotating the abnormal fluctuation detection component outside the space station.
While stuffing waffles into his mouth—these things don't produce crumbs, serving as a substitute for bread and biscuits for astronauts.

Another boring day in space.
Out of the corner of Ivan's eye, he glanced at the observation window of the Science Unit's multi-functional experimental module and saw two tiny dots, no bigger than grains of rice, floating in the far distance. "Cough cough cough!"

Ivan coughed violently, forgetting to eat, and quickly floated to the observation window to stare intently.

There's no mistake, those two dots are clearly human-shaped objects.

One of them, wearing a simple red diving oxygen mask, appeared to be a pure human.

The other one has a big head, a thin neck, and round eyes, clearly fitting the stereotypical image of a Grey alien in science fiction.

The two were suspended in the air, with no aircraft or safety ropes in sight.

"Этоневозможно!"

This is impossible!

In an instant, countless movie scenes flashed through Ivan's mind.

Star Wars, E.T., Martians Attack on Earth, Moscow Falls
To his even greater surprise, the two men seemed to have noticed the International Space Station and waved to him from a distance.

(The International Space Station has a maximum orbital inclination of 51.6°, covering mid- to high-latitude regions, and orbits the Earth every 90 minutes.)
The little gray man on the right even opened his mouth wide and shouted something at him.

'Could I be the first person in history to represent humanity in contact with extraterrestrials?'

A random thought flashed through Ivan's mind. Then, the little grey man seemed to realize that sound could not travel in a vacuum, so he immediately liquefied his arm and reshaped it into a huge square character.

Ivan, whose sister was studying in China, immediately realized that it was Chinese. He quickly took out his phone, frantically tapped on a translation app, and managed to photograph the mysterious text before the space station sped away and missed the observation window.

“Ivan, the GOC is asking us if the abnormal fluctuation detection component has been rotated into place.”

Fellow Russian cosmonaut Alexei entered the multi-functional experimental module of the Science spacecraft.

Then we saw Ivan, a burly man, holding his phone with an expression that could be described as pious and reverent, solemnly press the translate button.

Then, clear and articulate Chinese voice came through the microphone.

“Bring on your old buddy.”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Bring me a pie, my foot!"

Wearing an oxygen mask, Li Sheng rolled his eyes, flicked Hui Yu on the head, and said in a muffled voice through his bone conduction Bluetooth headset, "Don't scare the astronauts so much they'll think they've seen aliens."

While speaking in the name of "fellow Greys", Grey Rain, who cosplays as a Grey, puffed out her chest and said, "What do you mean you thought you saw an alien? I am a real alien."

Uh... it seems that's actually true.

The Zelo civilization is indeed extraterrestrial, and an extraterrestrial civilization that is thousands of years more advanced than Earth.

"Okay, watch for another ten seconds."

Taking advantage of the rare opportunity, Li Sheng set aside half a minute to enjoy the magnificent scenery of Earth from a near-Earth orbit perspective with Hui Yu. They also took the opportunity to locate the UK.

In the pitch-black universe, the Earth slowly and powerfully rotates, and the terminator, like a golden ribbon, slowly sweeps across the ground.

To the right of the terminator, wispy clouds float like cotton wool over the folds of the land. Snow-capped mountains, deserts, oases, and the ocean rise and fall in the interplay of light and shadow.

To the left of the terminator, Eurasia lies dormant in the night, with the twinkling lights of countries and cities linked together.

"time to go."

The electronic pet egg opened, and Li Sheng withdrew the gray rain. He floated 400 kilometers above the Akmola region of Kazakhstan, holding the last small clump of the [Perfect Tonic Pill] in his hand, his gaze fixed on the British Isles.

The next second, it disappeared.

------

London time, 4:38:44 AM.
There are 16 seconds left until the deep red alert is issued.

“Mou—”

At the border of Eastern Europe and Central Asia, in the Ural Mountains, a Kazakh cow grazing on grass seems to sense something and looks up at the sky.

Not far from the herd of cattle, the GOC Central Asia agents, who were sitting in a pickup truck and preparing to head to the mountaintop to set up observation instruments, also seemed to sense something and looked up at the sky.

Suddenly, the cirrus clouds 6000 meters above the ground were vertically severed in the middle by an invisible force, creating a gap nearly 100 kilometers long to the west.

The sea of ​​clouds churned, and it took several tens of seconds before the surging air currents, comparable to a hurricane, finally reached the ground.

Sand and stones flew, dust filled the air, and the cattle huddled together in a panic, their bells ringing incessantly.

The wind was so strong that even pickup trucks were shaking.

"WTF"

The dusty-faced GOC operator sitting in the truck bed instinctively stood up, holding onto the railing, staring at the strange celestial phenomenon with his mouth agape wide enough to fit an egg.

The GOC manager in the passenger seat sighed; he had just received a message on his friend's messaging screen.
Not only in Central Asia, but also throughout Eastern Europe, Central Europe, and Western Europe, all meteorological satellites simultaneously detected an ultra-large-scale meteorological anomaly spanning 51° North latitude and a distance of 3,500 kilometers.

The wildly fluctuating readings from weather satellites and the exaggerated anomalies on such a large scale will inevitably be seen and photographed by countless people, adding a lot of trouble to the subsequent efforts of the GOC to quell public opinion.

The person in charge waved his hand listlessly outside the car, "Let's go back."

The subordinates looked puzzled; they were about to reach the summit and set up the detection equipment. "Sir?"

"This is beyond our scope of intervention. Let the British deal with their own problems."

The person in charge had a complicated expression, and his voice was carried away by the wind, "Hopefully, not too many people will die."

His ancestral home is in Ireland, and his hatred for the British has been passed down through generations. When he was a child, his grandmother would often take out the family genealogy and tell him that what was more terrifying than natural disasters was the arrival of the British.

Consequently, whenever he went to England on business, he refused to eat British food and preferred to eat porridge at Indian restaurants—even though porridge was indeed tastier than British food.

However, from a higher level of civilizational competition, every region of Earth's population is a potential breeding ground for players.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

London time, 4:38:53 AM.
There are 7 seconds left until the deep red alert is issued.

At that moment, the British elites in the Whitehall underground bunker prayed silently.
The old Qian family in their family shelter had their two-meter-thick alloy explosion-proof door tightly shut.
Young people under the dazzling lights of bars and nightclubs are still swaying their bodies to the music;

The Greenwich Observatory, or rather the Clock Tower Guild's barrier, was operating at maximum power, scanning the entire sky.

five four three two one.

After a suffocating silence, the second hand of the clock passed the origin and continued to spin.

In the underground bunker, a recent graduate from a prestigious university, a secretary at Whitehall, cautiously opened her eyes and looked around.

It seems like nothing happened?
There were no earthquakes, no collapses, and even the electricity supply remained intact.

"he came."

Mobius calmly addressed the Whitehall elites in the underground bunker: "It's better to be prepared. You can start writing your wills or recording your final videos now."

After saying that, he waved his cane expressionlessly, drew a teleportation array, and teleported the people from the Clock Tower to the intersection of the street where the Fabric nightclub was located, 2.6 kilometers away.

A group of strangely dressed people suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, giving a big fright to the young people who were waiting under the awning outside Fabric to take shelter from the rain.

Some people realized something was wrong, and silently broke away from the crowd, running away quickly.

Meanwhile, the remaining young people, their minds numbed by alcohol and drugs, blushed and frantically pulled out their phones to film, as if they were making a movie.

Many players, after becoming superhumans, will go to the slum beauty salons for minor cosmetic surgery.

On the one hand, it makes you more handsome or beautiful; on the other hand, improving your appearance does help you communicate with NPCs in the script.

With their outlandish costumes and good looks, the people at the clock tower really do look like they're from a movie.

Möbius ignored the mortals and looked up at the night sky.

Boom!

A rumble of thunder boomed, and lightning illuminated most of the night sky. Raindrops took advantage of the light, appearing as countless transparent lines connecting heaven and earth.

A solitary figure hovers beneath the sky.

Li Sheng was still wearing a simple oxygen mask, and the transparent raincoat was being whipped by the gale, blowing off the dew that had been brought from the clouds over Eurasia.

He descended to the ground at a steady pace, his shoes landing smoothly on the concrete pavement, separated from the crowd at the clock tower by a street.

"Let me introduce myself. I am one of the eight archmages of the Arcane Council of the Clock Tower Guild, a master of the Conjuration school, and also the guild's scribe. Lv35, Mobius."

The spell master gently stroked the wooden grain of his cane with his fingertips, nodded slightly, and the members of the Clock Tower behind him all showed their IDs above their heads.

"Nice to meet you."

Li Sheng removed his dark red oxygen mask and smiled. "Lv21, Ant."

Boom——

Another rumble of thunder sounded, and the rain intensified, flowing and gathering along the patterns on the bricks and stones, while a misty vapor spread throughout the city.

The massive mechanical ensemble standing amidst the clouds was illuminated by lightning. It was equipped with a levitation engine on its chest, and its appearance was extremely ferocious and menacing. The huge shadows of its gun tracks covered the entire block.

(End of this chapter)