The weeks that followed were a dizzying blur of dual realities.
By day, Aura Innovations was a legitimate, if nascent, tech startup. Emma, a force of nature in a tailored business suit, had secured a small, brutally minimalist office space in a downtown high-rise. It was all glass, steel, and crippling rent, a far cry from the forge but a necessary façade of success. She was a master puppeteer, using our initial capital to build a corporate framework, hire a skeleton crew of remote legal and accounting staff, and begin laying the groundwork for her quiet coup of the data compression market.
By night, I was the Digital Ghost. From the humming heart of the forge, I became a phantom of the web. Our business model was simple and brutally effective: Raphael would identify critical security flaws in mid-to-high-level corporations, and I would breach them. We never stole. We never damaged. I would simply patch the vulnerability myself and leave a polite but firm invoice for our services.
The first few were a struggle. Most companies ignored the anonymous message. But then, one of our "clients" was targeted by a genuine black-hat group, and my patch was the only thing that saved them from a catastrophic data breach. The story, heavily redacted, leaked onto tech security forums. Suddenly, the Digital Ghost wasn't a crackpot; he was a legend. A benevolent specter who fixed your problems and then charged you for the privilege.
The money started rolling in. $75,000 from a cloud storage firm. $100,000 from an online brokerage. We were becoming famous, or rather, infamous. But the money vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
[Quest Objective Updated: Achieve Financial Unfuckability (Current Net Worth: $287,450 / $1,000,000 USD)]
"Two hundred and eighty-seven grand," I sighed, looking at the quest log on a quiet night in the forge. "We've pulled in over half a million in the last month, and this is all that's left."
"Tell me about it," I grumbled. To Emma, this was just the cost of doing business. To my quest log, it was a constant, frustrating drain. The physical grind was just as slow. My stats were inching upwards from my sessions with the Sparrow drone, but it was agonizing.
I needed a breakthrough. I needed a Gamer's solution.
"Raphael," I said, a new resolve in my voice. "The Instant Dungeon. You said the barrier was power. My MP pool is too small."
"But my EP... isn't." I looked up at the thick, high-voltage conduits running across the ceiling of the forge. "Let's level up the battery."
What followed was a week of the most bizarre training regimen imaginable. Every night, after my work as the Digital Ghost was done, I would climb the steel girders to the ceiling. I'd sit cross-legged on a thick power line like a crow, my fingers resting on the conduit.
"Absorb," I'd command.
A torrent of raw electrical energy would flood my body. My EP gauge would fill in seconds. But I couldn't hold it for long. My Level 1 skill was like trying to contain a tidal wave in a teacup. So I'd release it, venting it into the air in silent flashes of lightning. Then, I'd absorb again. Fill and release. For hours.
The system rewarded the insane dedication.
[Through repeated, high-volume energy cycling, [Energy Absorption & Redirection] Lvl. 1 -> Lvl. 2!]
...
[Through repeated, high-volume energy cycling, [Energy Absorption & Redirection] Lvl. 8 -> Lvl. 9!]
On the seventh night, as I sat on my perch, a river of electricity flowing through me, the final breakthrough came.
[Through extreme training, [Energy Absorption & Redirection] has reached Lvl. 10!]
[Skill has evolved! New functionality unlocked: [Energy Conversion (Electrical -> MP)]!]
Description: You may now convert stored Electrical Energy Points (EP) into Mana Points (MP) at a 10:1 ratio.]
I almost fell off the beam. A wide, triumphant grin split my face. "It worked."
I dropped to the floor, my body thrumming with power. I placed my hand on the main conduit again, drinking in the electricity until my EP gauge was full.
[EP: 10,000]
"Raphael," I commanded, my voice electric with anticipation. "Convert EP to MP."
My MP bar, usually a paltry 150, began to skyrocket. 300... 500... 800... It stopped at a glorious [10 + 1150]. I had a full tank.
"Okay," I breathed, standing in the center of the forge. "Let's try this again."
I focused, pulling on my newfound mana reserves, pouring every drop into the command that had failed me before. "CREATE INSTANT DUNGEON!"
The air in front of me shimmered. The concrete floor groaned. My MP drained at a terrifying rate, but this time, it was enough. Cracks of purple-black energy spiderwebbed across the space before me, coalescing into a shimmering, vertically aligned portal. It swirled like an oil slick, offering a glimpse of a dark, twisted forest within.
[Through a specific action, the Skill [Dungeon Creation] has been created!]
[Dungeon Creation Lvl. 1]: Allows the creation of low-level pocket dimensions for training and resource gathering.]
[Through the creation of a dungeon, the paired Skill [Exit Dungeon] has been created!]
[Exit Dungeon Lvl. 1]: Allows the user to immediately exit any created Instant Dungeon.]
"Perfect," I breathed. I stepped through the shimmering veil. The air was cold, smelling of damp earth and decay. I was in a grotesque, shadowy forest, the trees like skeletal fingers clawing at a bruised-purple sky. I took one look around, then focused on the new skill in my mind. "Exit Dungeon."
The world dissolved, and I was back in my workshop, the portal wavering in front of me. I let it collapse with a faint whoosh. The whole process, entering and exiting, took less than three seconds.
"Leveling the dungeon by killing monsters will take forever," I thought, a manic glee bubbling in my chest. "But leveling the skill..."
I put my hand back on the power line, refilled my EP, and converted it to MP.
"CREATE INSTANT DUNGEON!"
The portal ripped open. I stepped in. "Exit Dungeon." I stepped out. I let it collapse.
Refill. Convert.
"CREATE INSTANT DUNGEON!"
Rip. In. Out. Collapse.
Again. And again. I was "spamming" reality, tearing a hole in space-time and letting it heal, over and over, all to grind a single skill level. It was the most glorious, game-breaking exploit I could imagine.
Kamar-Taj, Nepal
The Ancient One sat in the highest window of the observatory, her eyes closed. She was not looking at the stars, but at the very fabric of reality, a tapestry of shimmering, geometric light visible only to her. For hours, it had been a calm, flowing river of cosmic law.
Then, she felt it.
In the spot on the tapestry that represented New York City, a thread was violently torn. A ragged, ugly hole of chaotic energy appeared for a brief moment. Before she could fully focus on it, the hole sealed itself, the threads of reality stitching themselves back together with an almost audible snap.
She frowned. A random cosmic event, perhaps. A minor dimensional bleed.
Then it happened again. Rip. Heal.
And again. Rip. Heal.
And again.
It wasn't random. It was deliberate. Someone was repeatedly punching a hole in her reality and letting it heal, like a child picking at a scab. It was an act of such brute force, such utter disregard for the elegance of the Mystic Arts, that it was profoundly insulting.
"What is this?" she whispered, her ancient eyes opening, now glowing with a faint, golden light. She extended her senses, focusing on the source of the disturbance. She saw no complex spell circles, no ritualistic chanting. She saw only a single, blazing point of raw, untamed power, flickering in and out of existence with a maddening, rhythmic pulse.
"A new player," the Ancient One murmured, her expression hardening with concern. "One with no understanding of the rules."
Back in the forge, I was oblivious, lost in the thrill of the grind.
[Through repeated application, [Dungeon Creation] Lvl. 1 -> Lvl. 2!]
"Yes!" I cheered, pumping my fist. I had no idea that my glorious shortcut had just appeared as a blinking, screaming red alert on the radar of the most powerful sorcerer on the planet.