Serana's gambit

Serana woke in her chambers within Serena Palace, her fingers twitching as she tested them in the dim glow of her console screen. It had been over a month since she first entered World of Solva—since the moment she realized the game was repairing her broken body.

She clenched her fist beneath the silk sheets, her expression unreadable. This was the kind of miracle money couldn't buy. the Bes doctors, even the most advanced cybernetic research available in Selene City had all told her the same thing: She would never move again. Yet here she was.

Her hands obeyed. Her legs obeyed.

But she wasn't about to tell anyone.

Serana exhaled slowly, turning her gaze to the floating screens before her. A list of names hovered in the air—potential competitors. Terry, Marcus, Naila, Akari Cypher, Masaru Nova, Sehun Orion, Jihyo Stellar, Mina Aurora, Aether Solaris, Anya Celeste. Each one a skilled player in their own right, Very active across World of Solva,

She swiped her eyes across the list, confirming her targets.

The game had no NPCs—every person inside was real. Yet, as far as most players were concerned, Jerry's crew—felt like NPC figures. That illusion was valuable. 

She leaned back, summoning a secondary window filled with numbers. The palace's financial reserves were vast, but not infinite. She needed a way to funnel resources into Solva without raising suspicion.

That's where the beta testers come in.

She would hire them, offer contracts for coin, and create an economic cycle that kept her control hidden behind layers of business transactions. The coins and resources they earned would be funneled back into her control, and her palace funds would quietly cover any financial gaps. A seamless loop, one that would give her the power to dictate the game's economy before the full launch.

But money alone wasn't enough.

The players need to be divided.

Right now, everyone in Solva was operating independently. If she let that continue, power would naturally concentrate in the hands of chaotic and opportunistic groups. She couldn't allow that. Instead, she would nudge them—subtly—toward factional warfare.

She would seed the idea of guilds and alliances, whisper strategies through controlled whispers, and let the players do the rest.

They'll think it was their idea all along.

Serana smiled.

Evening, 

Serana sat on a wooden bench near the camp's cooking station, watching the flickering flames beneath the massive iron cauldron. The scent of seared meat and simmering broth filled the air, mingling with the ever-present scent of sawdust and sweat.

Uncle Bai, the one-legged war veteran turned cook, moved with practiced ease despite his mangled foot, his knife dancing over slabs of dried venison. His missing leg didn't slow him down—it was just another reminder that he had survived worse.

Serana cleared her throat. "Uncle Bai, I need permission."

He didn't look up. "For what?"

"I want to set up a guild and a shop in camp."

A low chuckle escaped the old soldier's lips. "Shop, huh? And what'll you sell? 

"Equipment. Weapons. Food. Whatever people need."

Uncle Bai finally glanced at her, his one good leg shifting as he adjusted his stance. "That all?"

"I also need land. A place for my guild to operate."

For a moment, only the crackling fire and distant hammering of construction filled the silence. Then, Bai sighed. "You can, but there's a condition."

"Name it."

"You clear enough trees from the west side of the camp. We need the wood. The town's still being built."

Serana's brows furrowed. "The west side? You mean the jungle that fights back?"

Bai smirked. "That's the one."

She knew what he meant. The trees in Solva weren't just plants—they resisted. Roots moved, branches lashed out, and unless cut down properly, they actively prevented people from passing through. The west side was an untouched wall of nature, a living barricade.

Serana nodded. "Fine. I'll get it done."

Serana made her way to the Job Center. It was the only real structure in the growing settlement that resembled an official place of work. People gathered here daily, checking for posted jobs—hunting, escorting, scavenging. A simple building, but its purpose had evolved beyond expectations. It had become like an adventurer's guild in fantasy like games and anime.

Serana scanned the crowd. Most were loners or small groups, fresh players looking for work. A few were more experienced, their equipment less cobbled together, their movements sharper.

She stepped forward. "I have a job. I'm paying real money."

The room went silent.

"Real money?" someone echoed.

Serana nodded. "I need people to cut down the west forest. I'll provide equipment, but I need labor and fighters to guard the operation."

Murmurs spread. Jobs in Solva usually paid in-game currency, but real-world money was different. It meant this wasn't just a grind—it was business.

"I'm in." A broad-shouldered man with an axe on his back stepped forward. "Name's Rolf. You got the tools?"

"Working on it," she said. "Anyone else?"

A few hands shot up. Slowly, more followed. The promise of money was too tempting.

Serana emptied her savings—everything she had earned in the game. It was a gamble, but a necessary one. She purchased saws, reinforced axes, and protective gear. She also hired guards—players with experience in combat. If the jungle fought back, they needed to fight harder.

Days later, her crew was ready.

They stood at the edge of the untouched forest, the towering trees like silent sentinels. The moment the first axe struck bark, the forest retaliated.

Roots uncoiled, vines lashed out, and thorned branches twisted unnaturally. One worker was nearly impaled before a guard cut him free.

Serana watched the chaos unfold. This wasn't a simple job. It was war.

And war was something she planned to win.