Silas watched the "Cursed One" from a distance. The boss was gorging itself on the lifespans of the forty players it had just slaughtered, its bark-like skin pulsing with a sickly light as it prepared to evolve.
"Let it cook," Silas whispered. "Since no one else in town can touch it, I'll let it reach Silver-tier. The better the boss, the better the loot."
He checked his inventory. He was Level 3.5, and his ten slots were packed with gear and skill books that didn't fit the Shadow class. They were useless to him, but in Shell Town, they were relics of immense power.
He moved toward the Peace Zone. Along the way, he passed several groups of players being hunted down by packs of Crawl-Beasts. He didn't intervene. His expression remained a mask of ice.
"They'll learn soon enough," he thought. "Invest in Agility, or die. If you're faster than the predator, you survive. If you're faster still, you become the hunter."
As he crossed the boundary into Shell Town, Silas deactivated his stealth but instantly triggered a system feature: Facial Veil.
In the God-Abandoned Game, your face was your real-world face, it couldn't be edited. For Silas, anonymity was a survival requirement. If his identity leaked to the Great Federation now, Abstergo-level interests or local cartels would hunt him down before he could even wake up.
A thick, pitch-black veil draped over his features, leaving only his cold, analytical eyes visible. Dressed in his initiate's robes, equipped with Swift Runner's Greaves and his glowing Corrosive Dagger, he looked like a reaper incarnate.
The plaza was a hive of desperation. Hundreds of players were stuck, unable to reach Level 3, terrified of the packs of monsters waiting outside the gates.
When Silas walked in, the atmosphere shifted. The subtle bronze glow of his dagger and greaves was a beacon of success.
"Who is that? Is he showing off?" "Look at that gear! Bronze-tier for sure!" "Wait... is that Shadow? The #1 on the board?" "Expert! Someone is offering 10 million for a boost! Look over here!" "I'll give you everything I have just to know how you're soloing!"
Silas ignored the shouting and the "begging." He walked to a dilapidated stone fountain, sat down, and opened a localized trade stall.
[Inventory Clearance: 10 Minutes Only. Lifespan Trades Only!]
The crowd swarmed.
"He really is Shadow! Look at these drops!" "He killed a Bronze boss solo... I heard the 'Cursed One' just wiped thirty people!"
A woman in a grey Mage's robe stepped forward. Like Silas, she had her face veiled. He recognized her immediately from the rankings: Gray Rose, currently #11.
"How much for the Cryo-Bolt manual?" she asked, her voice steady.
"100 days of Tradeable Lifespan," Silas replied.
Gray Rose frowned behind her veil. "A hundred days? That's nearly all my team has harvested. Can you go lower?"
Silas didn't even look up. "This skill is the difference between life and death against packs. It slows, it freezes. 100 days is a bargain. Take it or leave it."
Gray Rose hesitated, conferring with her team in a private channel. After thirty seconds, she nodded. "Fine. 100 days. Deal."
[You have sold 'Skill Book: Cryo-Bolt'. Gained 100 Days of Tradeable Lifespan!][Total Tradeable Lifespan: 368 Days]
As the transaction closed, the crowd was shoved aside.
A girl in a black shirt with the sleeves torn off stepped forward, her ponytail swaying as she looked down at Silas with an air of practiced authority. It was Rhea.
"Are you Shadow?" she asked, her voice dripping with the arrogance of the wealthy. "I'm giving you a chance. Power-level me to Level 3. The moment we get back to the real world, I'll transfer 10 million dollars to your account. My father is the Chairman of Great River Industries, you don't have to worry about the money."
The plaza went silent. Ten million dollars. For a few hours of work. It was a king's ransom.
"He's going to take it," someone whispered. "Who wouldn't?"
Silas sat by the fountain, his eyes drifting over Rhea as if she were a particularly dull common mob.
"I refuse," he said flatly.