The money was tempting… no, intoxicating. But his instincts screamed otherwise. Money could be made. Money could be stolen. But truth? Real truth? That was rarer than anything. If the system was offering him knowledge instead of material goods, it meant one thing: whatever this was, it would be hella worth it.
[You have chosen: Information.]
Initiating transmission… Brace yourself.
Just as he selected the information, the world around him seemed to glitch, before it cracked, like a porcelain mask spiderwebbing under pressure. The light bent unnaturally, colors bled into each other, and then everything swirled violently… his surroundings folding inward like a dying star.
And he was once again pulled into the system space. His ears buzzed with high pitched static, and a sharp pressure spiked behind his eyes. It felt like someone was unzipping the fabric of reality.
