Chapter 83: The Digital Beasts Corporation’s Solution (Part One)

After returning to the Tyrannosaurus City, Beast One immediately logged out. He was still a patient, after all. Although he had only cleared a dungeon, the time spent was not insignificant. Strictly speaking, he should be resting. As he often reminded himself, even though he wasn’t human, he was now inhabiting a human body. He had no idea what would happen if this body suffered any injury—would it affect him as well? Therefore, he needed to do everything possible to ensure this body remained in good condition.

With Beast One offline, the group of players rushing to Tyrannosaurus City naturally didn’t run into him. Still, they knew he would likely log back in from there, so one after another, they logged out at Tyrannosaurus City too, hoping to encounter Beast One and latch onto his success.

The next morning, when Beast One woke up, the hospital doctors informed him that his treatment plan had been finalized. However, they needed to wait for the bruising around his wound to subside and for a surgery slot to become available, so the operation was scheduled for nine o’clock the following morning. The doctors explained that, since the surgery was imminent, there were certain instructions for him to follow that night—minor yet necessary details for any patient.

That evening, Beast One did not log into the game. Perhaps it was because the Dragon Beast had not yet finished respawning, or perhaps it was because he would undergo surgery at nine the next morning. In any case, he stayed offline, which meant that the players hoping to find him waited in vain all night.

At nine the next morning, Beast One entered the operating room. The surgery was a success, likely in part because the wound itself was not very large. Around noon, he was already out of the operating room. Nevertheless, due to the effects of anesthesia and the blood loss during surgery—even though transfusions were administered promptly—he still felt a chill and was far from his best.

By eight that evening, Beast One was feeling much better. Although not at his peak, he had at least recovered to his pre-surgery state. After sending off the two women who came to visit him, he sat on his bed, picked up his gaming helmet, and logged back into the game.

Earlier that evening, when Black Snow came to visit, she had told him that the Digital Beast Corporation had reached a decision regarding the recent incident. It was remarkable, really—only a few days had passed between the event and the company’s official response and resolution.

For ordinary players anxiously awaiting a resolution, those few days felt excruciatingly long. But for such a massive corporation, those few days meant working overtime, burning the midnight oil, just to devise a solution in record time.

The Digital Beast Corporation’s solution could be summed up simply: they punished those who had recklessly attacked and successfully killed other players during the affected period. Meanwhile, any players who had been killed were revived and given compensation rewards.

Of course, this process was far from perfect, and the margin for error was actually quite high. For instance, during that period, a player might have been wiped out by digital monsters in a dungeon, but because of the timing, the system mistakenly identified it as a malicious account deletion and revived the player.

Did such things happen? Absolutely. And not just once or twice, but with considerable frequency. Still, it was unlikely anyone would be foolish enough to make a fuss about it.

The real issue was not scarcity, but inequality. If players killed by monsters in dungeons or leveling zones during that time got revived, while others who died outside that window did not, how could those left out possibly feel at ease? Clearly, this sowed the seeds of conflict.

Digital Beast Corporation’s approach to complaints was simple: if you openly boasted that your revival was due to a timing loophole, the next time you logged in, you’d find your account deleted again.

Of course, this couldn’t eliminate all the players who benefited from the loophole. The company’s real aim was simply to put an end to the gossip. As for how many people actually profited from this incident, they didn’t care much.

Furthermore, no one really knew how the corporation punished those who maliciously deleted other players’ accounts. No one would be foolish enough to parade their punished account in front of the company, would they? It was quite possible that before the company could act, the player base would have already exacted their own form of justice.

Naturally, just as some revived players had actually died to monsters rather than malicious attacks, some of the punished accounts belonged to people who were penalized by mistake.

For example, during that period, two unrelated players might have gotten into a fight over something trivial. One won; the other had their account deleted. Such incidents were within the company’s expectations. Where there are people, there are disputes; and disputes need to be resolved. The company’s attitude was simple: “Our death mechanism is robust. If you can’t control yourself, go ahead and settle your scores. Most people will moderate their behavior somewhat, and those who don’t will have to bear the consequences.”

Still, such people were not supposed to be the company’s targets for punishment. Inevitably, though, some of them got caught in the crossfire.

To reduce wrongful punishments, the company activated an appeal system. Any player who believed they had been penalized by mistake could use it. The company would then carefully investigate the data, and if a mistake was confirmed, they would lift the penalty and provide some compensation.

In short, those were the two main components of the solution. For the vast majority of players, the company also offered a compensation reward, though Black Snow didn’t go into details—she told Beast One to check it out for himself in the game. As for what that reward would be...