The Cub Raised in a Horror Game - Chapter 1 - The Unusual Baby

A thunderclap split the sky, and torrential rain poured down on the thirty-sixth floor of the Realm of Refining Space.

The alley outside the assembly plant was littered with discarded machinery. Rain hammered against the metal sheets, producing a dull, thudding sound.

In the downpour, three children ran together beneath a plastic tarp the size of a mahjong table. Reaching a small mountain of scrap, the tallest boy shook the water from the tarp and folded it with care.

The other two children approached a waist-high refrigerator tucked in the corner of the scrap pile. They opened the door and nimbly crawled inside, calling out, “Brother Chu, hurry up!”

Chu Wang crouched beneath the tarp, then slipped into the refrigerator, closing the door behind him.

This was an abandoned outpost of the “Ant Wanderers,” its harsh conditions paradoxically turning into a refuge for the children.

The children made their way through the dark, narrow passage. The lead boy lifted the makeshift windbreak curtain—a patchwork of plastic and tattered blankets—and a wave of warm air swept over them. The faint glow of light instantly dispelled the damp chill from outside.

The space beyond the curtain was slightly larger, rising to the chest height of a grown man, enough for the children to stand upright. It resembled a miniature scrapyard hidden within a greater one. The cramped circular space was crowded with everyday odds and ends, most of them worn and broken.

The only item of real value was the faint light source hanging in the center of the space.

[Glowstone (Grade B): Provides illumination within a three-meter radius and generates oxygen.]

This item had been discovered half a year ago by a girl named Xiao Shi. A player had suffered a severe accident—bloodstained footprints stretched across half a block before the figure collapsed in this pitch-black corner.

Xiao Shi, scavenging by night, hid nearby for ten minutes. Only after confirming the body was cold and no other players approached did she dare step forward to loot the bag.

Typically, when players died in the Refinement Realm, their points reset to zero, and all items they carried would drop.

Xiao Shi could read no more than ABCD. When she saw the glowing stone labeled Grade B, she hurriedly pocketed it and ran back, leaving even the ordinary consumable items behind.

After Chu Wang—the only literate child among them—checked it, they confirmed it was a genuine and precious B-grade item, the kind of mid-to-high-tier treasure that could fetch thousands of points if traded by adult players.

Such items usually remained in the possession of seasoned players. How that one ended up dead in the street was still a mystery.

But the children had no intention of trading it. Not only were they no match for those cunning adults, more importantly, they were undocumented here.

Though the glowstone’s light was faint, it was enough for the children.

Under its dim glow, they changed out of their soaked coats at the edge of the space.

Most of their clothes were scavenged—some oversized outerwear creatively altered into new styles, others left untouched, sagging and hanging loosely.

One of the boys handed the bag he was carrying to his partner who stayed behind, whispering excitedly, “Did the baby wake up?”

Lina, the girl who had stayed behind, sat beside a cardboard box covered with a thin, worn bath towel. The boys gathered around. When the girl lifted the towel, they were met with an utterly defenseless, adorably sweet little face.

Inside the cardboard box lay a baby girl, seven or eight months old.

She had a pair of beautiful, clear amber eyes that looked unusually large and bright against her thin, pale face. Her black, curly hair, starved of nourishment, hung limply around her ears.

Lying on a small blanket, she tilted her head back and broke into a radiant smile the moment she saw the older children.

Children raised in such harsh conditions had never known toys, but this doll-like infant had instantly captured every heart.

Chu Wang lifted the baby into his arms. Malnourished, she was light as a feather—a frighteningly fragile weight.

“Hey, Inia, how’s your day been?” he asked softly.

The infant in his arms carried a complex, complete name—a rarity. Among the entire group of children, only Chu Wang had such a full name, abandoned by his player when he fell ill at the age of eight.

Most others, like the rest of the children, used names they had chosen themselves: Little Poetry, Lina, Charlie, Sugar Bean, Tiny One, and so on.

The teenagers lived in an infinite space called the “Realm of Refining Space.” It sent invitations to the outside world through unpredictable methods of selection. Those who accepted were drawn into the space and became mission players.

The Realm bound itself closely to the players, sustaining their survival through a game-like system. Everything they needed within this infinite space had to be purchased or exchanged with points.

The Realm resembled a mysterious plane hidden within a temporal rift. No one knew how it had formed or how long it had existed—yet when new players bound themselves to it, they found its internal structure already perfected, with established factions across different regions.

It was made up of ninety-nine floors, each nearly indistinguishable from the real world. The children lived on the thirty-sixth floor.

Because of its tower-like structure, players referred to the Realm as the Central Tower.

Here, players could use converters to travel between floors, though each floor carried different access requirements.

The Realm was fundamentally an adult world, and yet children still existed within it.

The system of the Realm claimed that points could purchase anything within the Central Tower—and children, naturally, were among the things available for purchase.

Humans are, at their core, social beings. Once survival needs are met, many inevitably long for emotional fulfillment. Some players, after enduring long stretches of ruthless deceit within the space, yearned for the connections they once knew as ordinary people.

Compared to forming bonds with other players and risking betrayal, many preferred to “exchange” for a child. The choice was simpler, less dangerous, and offered greater rewards.

Purchasing an eight- to ten-year-old child allowed one to enjoy the affection of a youngster without the costs of early-year nurturing. These children could clean, handle daily logistics, and even participate in low-floor space missions to earn points.

As they grew, they could be trained into junior teammates for low-floor dungeon runs. Successful runs brought double rewards, and in dangerous moments, the child could be used as a shield—making it a cost-effective arrangement in every sense.

Many mid- to high-floor players adopted children. Yet in the Realm of Refining Space, these purchased children were no longer cherished as family. They became expendable commodities, laborers to generate profit.

As for their origins, beyond those born to players and later abandoned, many speculate that the Realm seizes young souls from the brink of death or premature demise in the real world. The true nature of this practice remains unknown.

Thus, children like Chu Wang, who wander outside the orphanages, are rare outcasts—neither the offspring of players nor officially registered by the system.

Most were abandoned by vagrant players—the lowest rung in the Central Tower’s hierarchy. These individuals, often disabled or mentally unstable, were too impaired to complete instance quests yet too fearful to end their lives. Instead, they labored endlessly at tedious logistical tasks within the space, exchanging their effort for meager points. A day’s exhausting work might barely buy them a single meal.

Some wandering players, crushed by the strain, truly became vagrants—begging, scavenging trash… Yet the Central Tower held none of the warmth of a moral society. Even within safe zones, they faced beatings and abuse from regular players, sometimes even being hunted beyond the safe zones and killed.

Over time, most wanderers gathered in the abandoned floors.

Take 36^th floor, for example. This layer was known as the Scrap Yard, where vast quantities of waste generated by the Central Tower were transported. Each week, a random section of this area was cleared. If one happened to settle in the wrong place, they would be obliterated along with the trash.

At the same time, this floor also hosted a thriving black market. Players came here to trade in dangerous or illicit goods, knowing that without a safe zone, they might be assassinated mere moments after completing a transaction. Consequently, those who ventured here were almost exclusively the most ruthless and desperate individuals.

The 36th floor l was a true den of iniquity, embodying the brutal essence of the Infinite World.

Children grew up in this environment. Some vagrants adopted them to scavenge trash, yet begrudged them even a name, often giving them derogatory nicknames. If a child fell ill, they were discarded. Countless children were born to vagrants only to die within a few short years.

Chu Wang was both like and unlike the other children—he was the son of regular players. Raised on other layers, he had glimpsed a broader world. From the age of four, his parents had trained him in combat and taught him knowledge.

But at eight years old, he fell gravely ill for reasons unknown. When basic healing potions proved ineffective, his parents resolutely brought him to the black market on the 36^th floor, intending to sell him to recover their losses.

The bonds of family in infinite space were cruel and starkly real.

Chu Wang did not understand what had happened to him, but after three months of fever, not only did he survive—he gained extraordinary abilities.

He escaped and wandered across the thirty-six floor layers of the space. Over the next six years, he intermittently took in many children, yet only a handful survived.

Inia was the most extraordinary among those he found. Though her tiny frame was frail from malnutrition, she carried an air of carefree innocence.

Unlike the children born here, who seemed naturally docile and dull, as if they already foresaw their own tragic, short lives.

Inia’s small hand tugged at Chu Wang’s hat cord. She lifted her head, her wide, innocent eyes meeting her foster brother’s calm, gentle gaze.

She cooed a couple of “ah-ah” sounds, reaching out with her other hand as if to touch his cheek. But being too young to control her strength, she accidentally smacked him squarely on the jaw.

The baby possessed surprising strength, and a faint red mark instantly bloomed on the boy’s cheek.

Chu Wang showed no anger. Instead, he grasped her tiny hand, his expression brightening. “Nia seems much livelier than last month.”

“Yes, yes,” chimed in Charlie, the little boy crouching nearby, still shaken. “These past few months she was like a kitten, barely breathing. I was so afraid she wouldn’t make it.”

“Give Nia more of my dinner,” said Xiao Shi, stroking the baby’s curly locks. “That way she’ll grow stronger.”

“She’ll grow up healthy,” Chu Wang said.

Chu Wang was the children’s leader, their elder brother. Whatever he said carried extra weight.

When the day’s rounds of taking care of the baby ended, the children efficiently divided their tasks. Some carried buckets of rainwater collected outside back into their small base, some tended the fire to cook, and some cleaned up.

Though they were merely children not yet grown, they worked with the efficiency of adults.

As the elder brother, Chu Wang was a vital force in searching for supplies during the perilous daylight hours. After such a busy day, his younger siblings never let him lift a finger.

Thus, the sweet duty of caring for the baby fell to him.

Chu Wang patiently played with Inia, his gaze focused and gentle.

After that relentless fever years ago, Chu Wang’s left eye had changed from black to silver-gray. No one knew that beneath his different-colored pupil, the entire world appeared utterly transformed.

The curly-haired baby blew bubbles happily on the tattered blanket, yet only the young boy could see the brief words flickering above her head.

[Lord of ??: Inia (Infant)]

—The tiny infant before him was a dungeon boss not yet fully awakened.