Chaos reigned in the lecture hall.
The middle-aged professor, his face slick with sweat, gestured wildly at the door. "Class dismissed! Stay calm, I need to consult with the administration immediately!" He bolted from the room, likely to check on his own family.
Left to their own devices, the students erupted into a frenzy. Phones were out, cameras flashing, as they documented the ghostly Marcus. Every social media platform in the Aurelian Republic was buckling under the weight of the same terrifying images: people falling asleep and turning into untouchable, translucent specters.
Lucia and Chloe remained in their seats, their faces illuminated by the cold blue light of their screens.
"It's global," Lucia noted, her brow furrowed. "In the Western territories where it's night, entire cities have gone 'ghost.' Anyone who sleeps enters this state."
Chloe gripped her phone tightly. "I need to call my parents. Lucia... what about your brother? You should check if he's okay."
Lucia's expression hardened into a mask of cold indifference. "I'm not calling him."
"But Lucia," Chloe sighed, "now isn't the time for a sibling spat. The world is ending."
Lucia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Ending? Or changing? He spent years trying to control my life under the guise of 'family.' I'm done with it. Unless he calls me first to apologize for his behavior this morning, I don't care what happens to him."
If Silas had been there to witness this, he would have laughed. In his past life, this was exactly the game she played. She hadn't responded to his texts or his calls. He had been forced to drive to the campus in the middle of a global riot, find her, apologize for "restricting her freedom," and practically beg her to come home so he could protect her in the God-Abandoned Game.
But in this life, the script was gone.
To Silas, the girl who had gouged out his eyes no longer existed. He wasn't her shield anymore. He was the Arbiter, and he was busy becoming a god.
The Lands of the Forsaken
Across the vast reaches of the game, players were beginning to mobilize. The initial shock was fading, replaced by a desperate need for survival and growth.
"To log out for the first time, you have to hit Level 3," Silas reminded himself as he moved through the blackened woods. "That's the synchronization threshold."
Leveling was an agonizing grind. If you played solo, the difficulty was immense. If you joined a party, the XP and lifespan rewards were split so thin you could barely feel them. In Shell Town, Titan and his elite team had finally hit Level 2, twenty minutes after Silas. They now occupied ranks 2 through 7 on the leaderboard.
Meanwhile, Leo and his massive group were finding out the hard way that "safety in numbers" had a cost: monsters wouldn't even approach a group of fifty players. They were gaining zero XP, merely wandering the landscape as terrified tourists.
Chime.
[Evolution Points: 3.]
Silas's eyes brightened as he stood over the corpse of a Level 1 Crawl-Beast. It had taken time, he'd cleared the Breeder's spiderlings and hunted five more stragglers. The drop rate for Evolution Points from common mobs was abysmal, but his Hand of Greed had helped him bridge the gap.
"Time to push it further."
[Consumed 3 Evolution Points. Hand of Greed: Gold -> Platinum]
Effect: Chance to obtain additional loot increased from 70% -> 110%.
Silas paused. A 110% chance?
In the logic of the Isu-system, this meant a guaranteed second drop, with a 10% chance for a third drop. It was a statistical impossibility in the old world. He immediately tested it on the Crawl-Beast at his feet.
[Skill 'Hand of Greed' Success!]
Gained 1 Evolution Point!
Gained 1 Evolution Point! (Bonus Drop)
Gained 3 Days of Tradeable Lifespan!
3 Days of Tradeable Lifespan! (Bonus Drop)
"Incredible," Silas whispered. He had just turned a single mob into a triple-reward.
He didn't spend the new points immediately. The cost for a fourth evolution had jumped to 5 points, the scaling was becoming steeper. He needed a larger source of income.
He checked his status. He had 146 days of Tradeable Lifespan. To extract even a basic piece of gear into the real world required a minimum of 900 days, nearly two and a half years, and Level 10.
He was far from ready to "wake up."
Suddenly, the sound of a violent struggle echoed through the trees ahead. Silas moved toward the noise, sticking to the deep shadows. He peaked through the rotted foliage and found exactly what he was looking for.
[Swift Runner (Level 2)]
Rank: Bronze (Mini-Boss)
It was a six-legged, humanoid nightmare. It lacked eyes, possessing only a massive, rotting maw filled with needle-teeth. It moved with a terrifying fluidity, its six limbs blurring as it darted between trees.
Its speed was double that of a standard player. For a normal group, this thing was an inescapable reaper. For Silas, it was his next upgrade.