Eyes. Swirling, iridescent, watching from some impossible dimension.
The image lingered, a cold counterpoint to the triumphant warmth of power flowing through my virtual veins.
Anomaly. The word echoed.
Was it the System itself, observing its host? Some cosmic game master? Or a rival entity, drawn by the ripples I was already making in this reality?
I forced the thought down. Speculation was pointless, paralyzing. Action was the only antidote.
My power, the System, my knowledge – these were my tools. I had to use them, push them to their absolute limit. The faster I grew, the better equipped I'd be to face any threat, seen or unseen.
Next step: Capital.
Power required resources. Gear upgrades, consumables, skills, eventually founding a guild… it all cost gold. Lots of it.
My memory sifted through Epoch's volatile early-game economy. One item stood out.
Glimmerweb Silk.
Dropped by Glimmerweb Spinners, rare Level 8 spiders found only in the deepest parts of the nearby Tangled Copse. The drop rate was abysmal for normal players.
But the silk was a crucial ingredient for early Tailoring recipes, especially larger bags and decent cloth armor. Demand would spike dramatically in the next 24-48 hours as players leveled their crafting professions.
Most players avoided the Tangled Copse. It was dark, maze-like, and the spiders inflicted a nasty slowing poison.
Perfect for me.
Equipped with the Ogre-Hide Leggings and the Serpent's Kiss ring, my Agility was already far beyond any Level 7 player. Movement through the dense woods felt effortless.
The Tangled Copse lived up to its name. Twisted roots formed natural barriers, thick canopy blocked out the sun, and eerie clicking sounds echoed from the shadows.
Spiderwebs, thick as ship ropes and shimmering faintly, stretched between trees.
This was the place.
I spotted the first Glimmerweb Spinner, scuttling along a massive web. Larger than a wolf, with glowing blue patterns on its back.
[Mark of Vulnerability]. Applied.
Arrow nocked. Aimed at its cluster of eyes.
Thwip!
[-48! Critical Hit!]
[Critical Combo Triggered!]
The familiar exhilarating rush followed. My hands became a blur, the bowstring a near-invisible vibration.
The spider reared back, mandibles clicking, preparing to spit poison.
It never got the chance.
A torrent of arrows slammed into its weak spot.
[-26], [-52! Critical Hit!], [-26], [-52! Critical Hit!], [-52! Critical Hit!]...
[Critical Combo Stack x2!]
[Critical Combo Stack x3!]
[Critical Combo Stack x4!]
The Level 8 mob crumpled in under five seconds, dissolving into loot.
A single piece of [Glimmerweb Silk] lay among the copper coins. Success.
The key wasn't just killing them fast. It was killing many of them fast.
I moved deeper into the copse, finding a small clearing where three Glimmerweb Spinners patrolled.
Mark one. Trigger Critical Combo. The sheer volume of arrows splashed onto the nearby spiders as well, even without direct targeting. Once the first spider fell, I shifted focus, maintaining the combo.
My mana drained quickly using Mark of Vulnerability repeatedly, but I had stocked up on cheap mana potions in Oakhaven, anticipating this.
The clearing became a whirlwind of arrows and dissolving spider corpses. Glimmerweb Silk began to accumulate in my inventory. 5 pieces. 10 pieces. 20.
My leveling slowed – Level 8 mobs gave less XP now – but that wasn't the primary goal here. It was the silk.
"Hold it right there!"
A rough voice cut through the sounds of slaughter.
Three players stepped into the clearing, clad in mismatched iron armor. Their guild tags read [Iron Boars]. A Warrior, a Rogue, and a Priest. Mid-level, maybe Level 8 or 9.
The Warrior, presumably the leader, scowled at me, then at the rapidly respawning spiders I was effortlessly mowing down.
"This is our spot," he declared, puffing out his chest. "Iron Boars territory. Clear out."
I paused my onslaught, letting the Critical Combo fade. One eyebrow arched.
"Your spot?" I asked, my voice calm. "Funny. Didn't see any signs."
The Rogue sneered. "You deaf? He said move it. We're farming silk here."
"Looks like I'm farming silk here," I replied, gesturing to the pile of silk in my inventory, deliberately letting the count (now over 50) flash briefly.
Their eyes widened slightly at the number. Greed warred with arrogance on their faces.
The Warrior gripped his axe tighter. "Don't be stupid, archer. There's three of us. Hand over half that silk for the inconvenience, and we'll let you walk away."
Let me walk away? The audacity.
I sighed dramatically. "Look, I don't want trouble. This area is big enough for everyone. Just move to the other side of the copse."
He scoffed. "Giving us orders now? Last chance, pretty boy. Silk. Now."
He took a menacing step forward. The Rogue behind him drew his daggers. The Priest began muttering a buff spell.
Idiots. They had no idea who they were dealing with. They saw a solo archer, maybe assumed I was lucky or had good gear, but fundamentally underestimated the gap in power.
"Last chance for you," I corrected softly.
Mark of Vulnerability landed squarely on the Warrior's chest.
His eyes widened in surprise at the crimson sigil. "What the-?"
Thwip!
[-60! Critical Hit!]
[Critical Combo Triggered!]
The arrow storm erupted.
My target wasn't the Warrior's health bar. It was his morale.
Arrows hammered his shield, the force staggering him back. Splinters flew. Damage numbers exploded, chipping away his health faster than his Priest companion could heal.
[Critical Combo Stack x2!]
[Critical Combo Stack x3!]
The Warrior bellowed, charging forward recklessly.
A quick switch of targets. Mark the Priest.
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip!
The Priest, clad in flimsy cloth armor, stood no chance. He crumpled silently under the focused barrage before his heal spell even finished casting.
[Player Killed: BoarPriest]
"What?!" The Rogue yelped, momentarily stunned.
That moment was all I needed. Mark the Rogue.
Another hail of arrows. The Rogue tried to use Vanish, but my Agility-enhanced perception tracked his faint shimmer. Arrows pierced the air where he would reappear.
[Player Killed: BoarSneak]
Two down in less than ten seconds.
The Warrior stood alone, shield battered, health hovering near half. The arrogance was gone, replaced by shock and dawning fear.
He turned to run.
Too slow. My arrows found the gaps in his armor, relentlessly chewing through his remaining health.
[Player Killed: BoarLeader]
Silence returned to the clearing, broken only by the clicking of newly respawned spiders.
Three player corpses lay dissolving near my feet.
A notification popped up.
[You have engaged in Player vs. Player combat outside designated zones. Your name will temporarily glow red, indicating hostile status. Duration: 30 minutes.]
Red name. Didn't matter. No one in this level range could touch me anyway.
I calmly looted their dropped items – mostly vendor trash, confirming their mediocrity. They didn't even drop any silk. Pathetic.
A lesson learned for them, hopefully. Don't poke the hornet's nest unless you know how big the hornets are.
I continued farming, undisturbed. The red name probably deterred anyone else who wandered by.
The silk count climbed steadily. 100 pieces. 150. 200.
My fingers flew across the virtual interface, bundling the silk into neat stacks, ready for the Auction House.
By the time my red player-killer status faded, I had amassed nearly 300 pieces of Glimmerweb Silk. An amount that would take a normal party days, maybe even a week, to gather.
Time to cash in.
Back in Oakhaven, I headed straight for the Auction House.
The buzz was palpable. Players crowded the listings, searching for deals, trying to offload their meager findings.
I checked the current price for Glimmerweb Silk. A few pieces listed, selling slowly for maybe 5 silver each.
Too low. The demand hadn't peaked yet. But it would. Soon.
My knowledge of market timing was precise. The surge would begin within the hour, driven by crafters hitting skill thresholds.
I started listing my silk. Not all at once. Small stacks first, slightly above the current market price – 7 silver per piece. Test the waters.
They sold instantly.
Okay. Time to ramp up.
Larger stacks. 8 silver. Sold.
10 silver. Sold.
The price was climbing, just as predicted. Other sellers noticed, hesitantly raising their own prices, but they lacked my volume.
I controlled the supply.
I listed stacks of 50. Price: 15 silver per piece.
Gone in seconds.
My heart beat faster. This was the adrenaline rush of market manipulation, amplified by the scale of my advantage.
Final stacks. Price: 20 silver per piece. A ridiculously high price for this early stage.
Sold.
My mailbox flooded with notifications. Gold poured in.
I quickly calculated the total. Over 400 gold coins.
Four hundred gold!
In the first few days of Epoch, this was a king's ransom. Enough to buy the best gear available, stock up on consumables for weeks, maybe even bid on a rare crafting recipe or two.
Most players at this stage were lucky to have 5 gold to their name.
This was the power of knowledge combined with the System. Financial dominance, achieved effortlessly.
A wide grin spread across my face. This gold was the foundation. The first brick in the empire I would build.
As I walked away from the Auction House, mentally planning my next gear upgrades and skill investments, a new notification popped up. Not mail. Not system info.
A private message.
From: [??????????]
The sender's name was obscured, just a string of question marks. Impossible according to game mechanics. All messages had to show a sender.
My blood ran cold again, the earlier unease returning with a vengeance.
Hesitantly, I opened the message.
It contained only three words.
I see you.