Time flies, especially when you're doing repetitive and monotonous tasks. As soon as the bell rang, the bell for the next job rang, and after a few swings of the hoe, the bell for the next job followed. And although it is a new day to wake up, what wakes you up is still the old ringtone that is too familiar to be familiar anymore.

"When~dang~dang~dang~dang~dang~~~~" The big bell on the top of the council hall of the Spayes Town Government slowly struck six times, and a new day began. The Spice Clock is a mechanical device consisting of a clock box and a control room, and is guarded by a trained clock box manager, who is seen by outsiders as nothing more than a daily windspring in the clock box's control room at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Idle work. Generally speaking, this work is done by...... The mayor of Spices is in charge himself. The current agent is the mayor's youngest son, who likes to ring the bell. Little Daxter would get up early every morning and wait outside the clock box, and when the control room saw that the time was almost up, he would open the door, remove the bell stake fixed to the power unit, and carry it himself and strike the same rhythm six times.

"Get up!" Eighteen-year-old Dusty always ran in, screamed, and picked up a horizontal iron stake thicker than his waist.

In the early morning, although there is no sunshine, Spice can still make people feel a fresh breath. At several corners of the town, air extractors brought by our ancestors are installed, which are powered by hydroelectric power to break down the groundwater flowing through it into oxygen suitable for human breathing. The additional gases and the daily exhaust from the town were released into the dirt above the Spices Dome via a separate upward main pipe. Researchers discovered hundreds of years ago that gases such as hydrogen are effective at protecting against the invasion of mutated organisms, and that hydrogen is less dense than oxygen, and there is no better way to guard it than by releasing it into the soil above the dome. Even the two earthworms that invaded this time, and finally turned into nine, all invaded from the side.

Perfect.

After a night of recuperation and fresh air, the smell of gunpowder smoke from yesterday's battle with earthworms has been exhausted. The streets are filled with soggy fresh gases in the early morning. Take a breath and feel refreshed.

In the distance, the long, distant sound of the Spice bell reached the ears of old Mr. Raymond, who had risen early.

"Little Daxter is just as active today." The crane-haired old gentleman sat on the chair placed at the door of the box, intoxicated with the first breath of the morning. Inside the box, the sound of the alarm clock that set the time was also faintly heard.

"Jingle Bell Ring—"

The binaural alarm clock swayed from side to side at the head of the bed, and there was no doubt that in a few minutes it would be able to shake from the east side of the bed to the west side of the bed. However, the person whose alarm clock wanted to go off still didn't have the slightest desire to get up.

Hard pillows, thick quilts, hard soil beds. Standard Spec from Spices.

On the bed, face down lies a fat man half-naked in briefs.

The fat man pushed the quilt to the side of the bed with a big word, and the pillow flowed all over his head.

"Jingle Bell Ring—"

The alarm clock is persevering, and it will never give up if it does not wake up the fat man. The fat man's eyebrows finally wrinkled, and he twisted his body and stretched out his hand with his eyes closed and patted it blindly. A little east, a little west, a little east......

Ah, I got it. The little fat man finally followed the sound to the right position, but as soon as he slapped it heavily to make himself quiet for a while, the little fat man heard a pure and immaculate voice in the haze.

"Raymond—"

The voice was thin and silky, but it was clear and pure, like a descending Son descending into the world. Raymond replied in a daze, then turned around and fell back into a deep sleep.

"Raymond—"

The voice sounded purely, melodious, as if it were swaying from far away. Raymond smacked his lips, still sleeping soundly. However, the little fat man subconsciously felt that this voice seemed to have heard there, and subconsciously felt that what this voice represented behind it was definitely not what he wanted to encounter......

Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?

In his sleep, Raymond forced himself to remember, he saw a light in his dream, and he ran towards the light, but he ran bumping and staggering, as if his neck, hands, and feet were restrained, and he could not exert any strength.

Finally, slowly walking to the light source, he looked at the light source in surprise, and then found that the light source suddenly became extremely dazzling.

"Raymond!" A rough shout rang out at the same time, and Raymond sat up from his sleep.

"Phew—it's just a dream." The little fat man was sweating profusely and touched his chest with palpitations. However, in an instant, he was stunned, he, he was actually wearing an undershirt! Looking down, the big pants are also perfectly worn!

Raymond panicked, he didn't know what was going on. And at this time, he realized that something was not quite right on his face, it turned out that the light of a flashlight hit his round face directly. Raymond looked up at the light, only to find that his three superiors were staring at him with meaningful smiles.

"Goo." The little fat man swallowed. "Leader, leader, two, two captains, hehe, hehe, what do you three command......"

"Don't be nervous, we just want to play a game with you." The meaty-faced mountain made a smile that he thought was very kind.

"Hiccup—" Raymond suddenly flirted and fainted again.

……

The Walker, also known as the Labyrinth Walker or the Runner, is a slightly rarer class than the Ripper, but just as important in the Underworld.

Walkers are good runners, and long-distance runs can be strenuous, but short-range bursts are the most demanding of all classes. A high-level walker is required to be able to run at least faster than a normal Emperor 2163 bullet through a Model 6 pistol. Of course, this is a bit far away at this moment, but even for beginner walkers, it is clearly stipulated in the law that the speed of 50 meters should be at least 6.5 seconds. Walkers, walk like the wind.

Walkers are good at crit. They may not be good at grappling or smashing, but they know how to insert their daggers in the most appropriate position at the most appropriate time, which leads to the fact that a good walker usually has the title of Death Reaper, whether it is in the face of mutated creatures or compatriots of hostile forces, walkers can always find the opponent's weakness in the shortest time and strike accurately, which is also another difference between walkers and rippers and gunfighters.

The walker is good at hiding and being good at concealment. They are adept at using the terrain to act on themselves as cover, they are adept at spotting the traps hidden throughout the maze and the prey they are tracking, and they can seize on the enemy's weak points and kill them in one blow without them knowing. Theoretically, the Walker can be used for reconnaissance and assassination missions with a variety of terrain, and the same is true in the real military, where the Labyrinth Walker is mostly used to organize small reconnaissance battalions and assassin battalions deep behind enemy lines. They are moving eyes and bloody daggers on the battlefield.

……

"What!? You're going to train me to be a walker?! ”

Raymond was wide enough to swallow a fist and a half. The little fat man shook his head in disbelief, and at one point he even thought he had heard the best joke of the year.

"I said, a few bosses, you are not pure to play with me, how can I be a doer, you see me so ......"

"You can."

Garcia interrupted what Raymond had not finished saying and said categorically to Raymond.

"Trust us, you can."

Blair also answered.

"Although you are a fat man, we have observed, your explosive power, reaction and perception are extremely talented, you are not a professional, but you can be safe and sound under the pursuit of an earthworm as big as yesterday, you can hear our conversation from a distance, and you can even scavenge more than six bowls of money alone when all of them have only collected a little bit of miscellaneous moss......"

"I'm all a fluke," Raymond grimaced, and thousands of people didn't admit it. "Look ......"

"Luck is also a form of strength." The mountain also said, and choked Raymond's unfinished words back into his stomach.

"You can, trust us." Garcia repeated what he had said at the beginning. "I learned from the school archives that you, Raymond, had the dream of being a walker when you were in basic school, when you were still a thin teenager, however, your final assessment failed to get the junior walker's professional qualification certificate and identity badge because you didn't get an A in physics, otherwise our security team would have ushered in the fifth professional."

"Then I can't get an A in physics now!" The fat man pleaded.

"Oh? So what is it? Garcia raised an eyebrow, laughed, and pulled out a thick, recycled notebook from his pocket, a little smaller than a palm, densely packed with formula concepts and drafts.

There was a long silence.

"Well, I'm fat like this now......"

"You can lose weight, if you work hard enough." Blair patted the little fat man on the shoulder, and then helped him up, "See, tell me where this is?" ”

A brand-new box maze array comes into view, revealing the irregular terrain and some exposed traps in the labyrinth. Raymond opened his mouth again in disbelief, "The newly built box area next to the construction site? How did it become like this! ”

"From now until the return of the caravan in seven days, it is no longer a box area, it is your Raymond's training ground. I spent last night and one night here to set up no less than forty-two light and dark traps, six kinds of rugged terrain, as long as you nod your head, you will receive the most severe training here for the next seven days, the three of us will intercept and snipe you from three different directions of the maze, when you can escape from our pursuit and get out of the maze in half an hour, your training will be considered successful. And it doesn't matter if you're overtime or caught, it's all going to ......"

“…… He was pressed to the ground and beaten by the three of us. ”

There was a long silence.

"Let's get started."