Silas didn't need to show his face for the world to feel his cold contempt.
When he first saw Rhea, he hadn't placed her. He'd seen too many faces in the nine years of the apocalypse to remember every spoiled socialite. But the moment she mentioned Great River Industries, the memory clicked.
In his past life, Rhea was a butcher wrapped in silk. She used her family's vast wealth to "buy" Tradeable Lifespan from desperate players. But once they returned to reality, she didn't pay. Instead, she used her localized power and the abilities she'd gained in the game to silence her creditors. At least a dozen people had been murdered by her hand or her father's "security" teams before the global order completely dissolved.
She eventually got her karma, but that was years away. For now, Silas wasn't interested in being her next victim.
"Ten million?" Silas mused internally. "In a world where time is the only currency, that paper is going to be worth less than the scrap iron in my pocket within a month."
Beyond that, Silas was a realist. In the Great Federation, Rhea's father commanded a private army of thugs. Going to collect ten million from them while the world was in chaos wasn't a payday; it was a suicide mission.
"If you aren't buying, get out of the way," Silas said, his voice flat and dismissing. "You're blocking my customers."
"You!" Rhea's face flushed a deep crimson. She was the crown jewel of Great River Industries. No one talked to her like this. No one. Her eyes flashed with a lethal hunger for a split second before she masked it with a fake, brittle smile.
"Fine. Since you're not interested, I won't waste my time." She turned and walked away, her expression instantly turning pitch-black.
Silas didn't bother watching her go. He knew the truth: her pride was her shield, and in the God-Abandoned Game, shields eventually break.
As Rhea left the plaza, she was approached by a tattooed man with scarred arms.
"Hey, Rhea. Call me Old Mao," the man grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "I'm Level 2, and I know the meta. I can get you to Level 3. Is that 10 million offer still on the table?"
Rhea arched an eyebrow. "You think you're in his league? What's your secret?"
"No secret," Old Mao whispered. "Just math. You have to dump all 5 starting points into Agility. It makes you faster than the Crawl-Beasts. Most people are idiots, they dump it into Strength and get swarmed."
Rhea realized her mistake instantly. She had put all her points into Strength, thinking power was everything.
"Fine," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "But you're not as fast as Shadow. I'll give you five million. Do we have a deal?"
"Deal," Old Mao chirped. He thought Silas was an idiot for turning down easy money. He had no idea that Rhea had no intention of ever letting him reach a bank.
Silas, meanwhile, had finished his clearance sale. Equipment sold slower than skills, but he'd still managed to offload everything.
[Tradeable Lifespan: 546 Days!]
Nearly a year and a half of life in his pocket. He packed up his stall and vanished into the trees. Along the way, he saw Old Mao leading Rhea into the woods. He didn't warn the man; he wasn't a savior, and he had a date with a monster.
Ten minutes later, he reached the clearing of the Cursed One.
The boss had transformed. It was no longer just a withered husk; it was now a Silver-tier Entropy Dryad, surrounded by a swirling grey mist of harvested life-energy.
"Evolving to Gold would take another eight hours," Silas calculated. "I'm not waiting. I'll take the Silver loot and move on."
He crept forward, invisible and silent. He flicked his wrist, and a Poison Dart hissed through the mist, burying itself in the "eye" of the dryad's bark-mask.
The boss let out a shriek that rattled the very trees. Its HP bar was massive, triple that of a Bronze boss. But the poison began its work immediately.
-845! (Weak Point Critical)
The Cursed One roared in blind fury. It couldn't see its attacker, so it unleashed its Entropy Burst. A massive wave of grey energy exploded outward in a 20-meter radius, turning the grass to ash and shattering the surrounding rotted wood.
Silas was already outside the blast zone. He watched the green poison damage tick away, waiting for his moment to strike again. The "Arbiter" was patient. The "Shadow" was absolute.