Chapter 40

Chapter 040: How Can I Save You?

At exactly twelve noon.

The familiar chime of the Trial Ground rang out in everyone's ears on time:

[Ding! Congratulations on surviving three full days in the Trial Ground. Your faction gains +1 Faction Point.]

[You gain +1 Faction Contribution.]

[The Faction Ranking and Personal Contribution Ranking have been refreshed.]

All trial participants, whether busy or resting, instinctively looked at their information interface.

Their eyes first locked onto the top of the Faction Ranking.

[First Place: Huaxia, Faction Points: 3,936,839,293]

Just one glance.

Countless people in wooden huts across different environments froze mid-motion, their pupils constricting, their minds going blank for a brief moment.

Anyone with basic math skills could instantly calculate the spine-tingling increase:

1.4 billion!

Compared to yesterday's already terrifying increase of 1.1 billion, today not only saw no decrease but an additional 300 million more!

Was this reasonable?

As this question lingered in their minds, many arrived at a corresponding answer:

It was those who chose to abandon the trial... the eliminated ones who recommended the Huaxia Faction?

Yes, that had to be it!

Those cowards, those worthless quitters who couldn't hold on!

They eliminated themselves and dragged down their entire faction, even delivering a fatal assist to their biggest competitor.

Damn it! A bunch of damned fools!

Anger, contempt, and a stinging sense of betrayal exploded in many hearts.

Yet, this rage didn't last long.

Because their gaze uncontrollably swept toward their own faction's points and ranking.

Then, a deeper chill enveloped them.

[Second Place: United States, Faction Points: 426,337,674]

[Third Place: Russia, Faction Points: 198,362,374]

[Fourth Place: France, Faction Points: 187,282,293]

[Fifth Place: Charlie Marvin, Faction Points: 143,674,989]

...

In the top ten of the ranking, aside from Huaxia firmly holding first place with a despair-inducing lead, the other positions had been almost completely overturned.

This time, the only unchanged ranking was the United States in second place, seemingly the second "gap" in existence.

But in reality, their points had not increased but decreased.

Plummeting from yesterday's 520 million to 420 million, they only held onto second place thanks to the "support of their peers."

Meanwhile, names like India, Indonesia, and Pakistan, which had previously been in the lead, had vanished.

Replacing them were Russia, France, and that glaring fifth place...

"Charlie Marvin"?

A person's name?

This shattered many people's understanding.

Looking further down, there were even more individual names in the top ten, and even a family name.

Scanning through the top hundred, similar individual names, family names, and even unheard-of small group names occupied no fewer than twenty spots!

This unbelievable scene had a simple reason behind it:

All were created by the "eliminated."

Although some of the eliminated participants, driven by their own thoughts, cast their "Recommendation Tickets" toward the major nations at the top of the leaderboard,

the majority still gave their precious 10 points to the smaller, solo factions near the bottom,

to avoid posing a threat to their own faction.

However, it was clear that not a few people shared this mindset.

Moreover, the elimination rate on the third day was high enough,

thus creating such a situation.

This issue was now understood...

But some Trial Participants who had landed in resource-rich areas still couldn't comprehend:

"With supply crates refreshing daily and the ability to appraise items, how could those guys not even last three days?"

"Are they all pigs?"

Without the Fate Net and no communication,

they naturally didn't yet know that fellow Trial Participants could land in vastly different environments.

Not to mention that many of them included elderly and children with low survival abilities.

Meanwhile, some Trial Participants from factions that had plummeted in the rankings weren't angry.

They just stared blankly at the Faction Ranking, watching the gap widen at a despairing pace.

Their biggest competitor's points were surging, while their own were decreasing...

A suffocatingly desperate truth, like the Sword of Damocles, hung over their consciousness.

There was almost no chance left to win!

...

Deep within a forest.

Elizabeth stood in a clearing, gripping the legendary Sword in the Stone tightly in her hand.

At that moment, her azure eyes were fixed on the leaderboard interface before her.

Her pupils contracted, and her fingertips turned white from excessive force.

[Rank 170: Britain, Faction Points: 65,587]

That string of numbers seemed to carry a cold mockery, stinging her retinas.

"Sixty-five... thousand..."

Elizabeth murmured the number, her voice as dry as sandpaper rubbing together.

Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she hadn't rested in a long time.

In fact, that was true.

Ever since yesterday's leaderboard refresh revealed Britain's dismal performance—where their points had barely budged—

she truly hadn't closed her eyes.

Throughout the entire day, she had gone mad slaughtering the beasts in the forest.

Wherever the Sword Light passed, blood stained the forest grass.

Hundreds of beasts fell under her blade, adding tens of thousands of points to Britain's faction.

Elizabeth thought that with the power bestowed by this sacred sword and her relentless fighting, she could at least salvage some of Britain's disadvantage.

Yet now, the numbers after the leaderboard refresh were cold and cruel.

Not only had she failed to achieve her wish, but all the points accumulated on the first day had been wiped away.

The mere sixty-some thousand points left seemed to mock her helplessness.

An individual's valor, before the fate of a nation with tens of millions of people, appeared so insignificant.

Like trying to extinguish a raging fire with a single cup of water.

And in fact, as a well-known major nation, Britain had naturally become the final choice for many eliminated participants.

But unfortunately, the number of people who chose to Abandon the Trial far exceeded these meager "gifts."

Elizabeth was unaware of all this, having no idea what had happened.

She only suddenly, in despair, realized a seemingly predetermined truth.

"Can't win..."

This thought, like an icy viper, slithered into her mind for the first time with such clarity and cruelty.

And what did "can't win" mean?

The concept of the "Fall of the Nation."

It surfaced in her mind for the first time, lingering long without dispersing.

The weight of this term far exceeded anything she had ever borne in her life.

"Boom—!"

A thunderous roar echoed in her mind.

Just a few days ago, she could still grip the holy sword and proudly declare, "I bring victory to Britain." That conviction now shattered completely, crumbling to dust.

Her entire body felt as if struck by lightning.

Her knees gave way, and she collapsed weakly onto the grass.

Fortunately, her right hand, like a drowning person clutching at a last straw, still gripped the hilt of the Sword in the Stone tightly.

This alone kept her from collapsing entirely.

But even so, she was already utterly disheveled.

Mud stained her clothes, blades of grass clung to her pale cheeks, and her usually immaculate blonde hair was tangled and disheveled.

Yet Elizabeth herself was unaware of all this.

At this moment, overwhelming grief and fear consumed her every thought.

Only one lingering question remained:

"Britain, how can I save you?"

...

The same question...

At this moment, after the Leaderboard Refresh, it emerged in the minds of Trial Participants from different places and different Factions.

Only the subject was replaced with the name of their respective Faction.

The Points of each Faction either hovered in the negatives or had already fallen into the red.

Other than that, there was no difference.

The same despair, the same grief, tears streaming unconsciously down their faces.

Just a few days ago, these people firmly believed their own Faction would be the final victor, harboring the chuunibyou fantasy that they could lead their nation.

And it was precisely because of this that they suffered so deeply.

What kind of feeling was that?

Their hands trembled uncontrollably, their minds went blank, and a boundless, panicked fear surged into their hearts.

It made them nauseous, constantly wanting to vomit, as if they could retch out their very souls.