Chapter 2: Aurum
Django Whitmore had experienced a lot of surreal moments in his life. Waking up on a yacht he didn't remember boarding? Sure. Playing poker with a crown prince and losing his watch? Done that. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could compare to the moment he stared at his phone, piecing together the rules of the world he'd woken up in.
He slouched on the ridiculously overstuffed couch in what used to be his bedroom, scrolling through news articles, videos, and forums with a mix of disbelief and awe. Every tap of the screen revealed something more absurd than the last.
Breaking News: New Platinum-Tier Dungeon Discovered in Western Ridge. Hunters Rush to Stake Claims!
The Top 10 Aurum Tycoons of the Year: How They Built Their Empires on Dungeon Gold and Rare Monster Cores
"Aurum is King": How the Global Magical Economy Runs on Dungeon Resources
"Platinum-tier dungeon?" Django muttered, squinting at the article. A video accompanied it, showing a group of well-dressed people descending into what looked like the mouth of a glowing cave. Their weapons gleamed with magical energy, and behind them floated drones that looked straight out of a sci-fi flick. He scrolled further, his brow furrowing.
The article explained that dungeons weren't just some mystical oddity—they were the lifeblood of the economy. These otherworldly anomalies appeared all over the world, offering two things in abundance: resources and monsters. Resources like magical ores, rare gemstones, and mystical herbs that powered everything from advanced tech to everyday appliances. And monsters? Well, their parts—fangs, claws, hides—were some of the most valuable commodities on the planet. Hunters, miners, and dungeon tycoons built their fortunes on dungeon expeditions.
Django sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he muttered. "So the world runs on magic caves and dead monsters. Cool. Totally normal."
But it didn't stop there. Another article described how modern life had adapted to magic-infused technology. Cars powered by mana batteries. Homes heated with enchanted stones. Phones, like the one in his hand, ran on Aetherium chips, mined straight from dungeon cores.
And Aurum... oh, Aurum was everywhere. It wasn't just money—it was power. A universal magical currency that had become the backbone of the entire economy. Governments, corporations, and individuals alike used it not just to trade but to enhance their lives. You could buy upgrades for your equipment, pay for magical education, or even purchase property and resources within the dungeons themselves. It was like gold, but better because it could be used—directly converted into magical energy or applied to unlock abilities.
Django leaned forward, staring at the glowing number on his phone screen: 25,000,000 Aurum.
His starting balance, courtesy of... whatever cosmic drunk deal had landed him in this life.
"So," Django muttered to himself, "this world runs on magic, dungeons, and Aurum. And somehow, I'm sitting on a 25 million of it without a clue how to use it."
He tapped around the phone, searching for basic information about his location. It didn't take long to piece together that he was still on Earth—or some version of it—but things were... different. Magic had become a part of life hundreds of years ago, reshaping nations, economies, and even geography. Major cities like New York, Shanghai, and London were still there, but now they had shimmering spires, floating platforms, and glowing ley lines visible from miles away.
And here? Here, Django was in the good old and hypocritical USA, in Springtown, Texas. This sprawling modern city was famous for its proximity to some of the world's most lucrative dungeons. It was a metropolis of contrasts, where cutting-edge technology and ancient magic blended seamlessly.
Skyscrapers jutted into the sky like jagged crystals, their surfaces glinting with enchanted glass that refracted light into dazzling rainbows. Hover cars zipped through the air in neat traffic patterns, guided by mana-fueled navigation systems. On the streets below, people strolled casually, some carrying magical tools that hummed softly with power, others flaunting enchanted accessories that glowed faintly with personal auras.
Django leaned back in the plush leather seat of his hover car—a sleek black model with chrome accents that reflected the neon lights of Springtown's skyline. The gentle hum of the mana engine was a far cry from the sputtering wrecks he used to drive.
"Since Buddha's a bro," Django mused aloud, smirking to himself, "I'm sure he left some good stuff for me to work with. Gotta play this right."
"Alright, system," he said, addressing the air with a mix of amusement and determination. "Do you have any recommendations for investments? I've got no problem living it up on 25 million Aurum for the rest of my life, but hey, why not make some real money while I'm at it?"
The glowing interface on the windshield shifted, displaying potential opportunities. Django's eyes scanned the options, intrigued by the variety.
xXx
Recommended Investments:
Dungeon Stake: Copper Ravine (Mining Dungeon)
Buy a 10% stake in this Tier-1 mining dungeon.
Current yield: 5,000 Aurum/day from mana ore extraction. Potential for future expansion.
Investment Cost: 13M Aurum
Current Yield: 50,000 Aurum/day
Urban Development: West Springtown
Invest in a new luxury housing complex in West Springtown.
High demand for modern, mana-efficient apartments.
Investment Cost: 47M Aurum
Estimated ROI: 12% annually
Black Market Partnership
Partner with Midnight Salvage Syndicate, a group specializing in rare monster parts and illegal dungeon gear. High risk, but high reward.
Investment Cost: 150,000 Aurum
Potential Earnings: Up to 1,000,000 Aurum/month
Small Robotics Factory: Xion Automations (Start-Up)
A small workshop producing low-cost drones and mana-powered mining bots for independent dungeon divers. High potential but volatile market.
Investment Cost: 1M Aurum
Projected ROI: 15% annually5.
Low-Ranking Guild Sponsorship: Ember Chain Guild (Dungeon Guild)
Sponsor a small, Tier-1 dungeon guild struggling to break into the industry. Profits depend on their success in dungeon expeditions.
Investment Cost: 20M Aurum
Potential Earnings: 60M Aurum/year6.
Mana Herb Farm: Greenfrost Meadows (Suburban Outskirts)
A small agricultural operation growing mana-infused herbs for alchemists and potion makers. Low yield but steady income.
Investment Cost:
15M Aurum
Daily Yield: 150,000 Aurum/day
Tech Startup: Vortex (AI-Driven Mana Management)
A promising firm is developing artificial intelligence systems that optimize mana usage across industries. It has high growth potential and several patents pending.
Investment Cost: 3M Aurum
Projected Growth: 200% in two years
"Fuck livin' peacefully!" Django exclaimed, his voice echoing in the car as he stared at the glowing numbers on the holographic display. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the dashboard as if the outrageous investment options might suddenly change if he squinted hard enough.
He barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Thirteen mil for a dungeon stake? Fifteen mil for a farm? And forty-seven freakin' mil for some apartments? What the hell is this, Monopoly for wizards?!"
Django flopped back into his seat, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to process the insanity of the new world he found himself in. "25M is probably chump change around here," he muttered, glancing at the glowing numbers on the holographic display. "And here I was thinking I'd hit the jackpot. Turns out, I'm barely at the kiddie table."
The realization stung a little, but it also lit a fire in him. If this was how the world worked—where dungeons fueled the economy, Aurum ruled everything, and even the air felt charged with ambition and chaos—then sitting on 25 million wasn't nearly enough. Not for someone who wanted to climb to the top.
He glanced back at the display, his eyes narrowing. The Midnight Salvage Syndicate option caught his attention again, the low buy-in glaringly different from the other investment opportunities.
"150k for black market monster parts..." Django muttered, tilting his head. "Now that's my kind of price. Illegal? Sure. Sketchy? Absolutely. But a million a month?" He smirked, shaking his head. "How could I say no to that?"
His gaze flicked to the Small Robotics Factory listing. "One mil for a startup that builds dungeon drones? High risk, but not insane... could be useful later if I decide to dive into a dungeon myself."
But then there was the Ember Chain Guild sponsorship, sitting pretty at a steep 20 million Aurum. Django whistled low, his smirk growing wider. "Twenty mil for a struggling guild? Bet they'd do anything to get someone like me on their side. Could be fun to watch 'em squirm."
He crossed his arms, leaning back into the plush seat. "Alright," he muttered. "Do I go full chaotic with the black market, play semi-safe with the robots, or blow a ridiculous chunk of my money on a bunch of wannabe dungeon divers?"
His car slowed as it descended into the city's Red Sector, a part of town that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a cyberpunk noir flick. Neon signs flickered against the grime-covered buildings, advertising mana-powered weapons, dungeon permits, and "exclusive monster parts." The streets were alive with all manner of people—some augmented with glowing cybernetics, others draped in enchanted cloaks that shimmered faintly under the neon light.
The sight brought a grin to Django's face. "Yeah," he said to himself. "Peaceful living's overrated anyway."
The car came to a halt in front of a building with no sign, no lights, and no windows, just a reinforced door with a glowing sigil etched into the metal. Midnight Salvage Syndicate's headquarters.
Django stepped out, the air heavy with the hum of magic and the metallic tang of industry. He adjusted his jacket, cracking his neck as he made his way toward the door. "Time to see what the black market's got for me," he muttered, his grin widening.
The sigil flared as he approached, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Beyond it, shadows danced against the faint glow of runic lights, and the unmistakable sound of haggling echoed through the air.
Django stepped inside, his heart pounding with excitement. "Alright," he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. "Let's make some real money."
XxX
The interior of the Midnight Salvage Syndicate's headquarters was dimly lit, illuminated only by faint, flickering runes etched into the walls. The air smelled faintly metallic, tinged with the acrid bite of something alchemical. Shadows danced against the glowing runes as Django stepped further inside, his shoes clicking softly against the polished stone floor.
The door slid shut behind him with a heavy hiss, sealing him in. For a moment, all he could hear was the low hum of magic coursing through the building, accompanied by the faint murmur of voices deeper within.
"Cozy," Django muttered, his grin widening as he scanned the room. "Just the kind of sketchy vibe I was hoping for."
From the shadows, a figure emerged. They were tall and thin, their silhouette distorted by the faint glow of their enchanted cloak. The hood covered most of their face, but Django could see a faint glimmer of sharp eyes beneath it. The figure's voice, smooth and cold, cut through the silence.
"You're either lost," they said, their tone laced with suspicion, "or very bold."
Django smirked, crossing his arms. "Bold, definitely. I hear you're the people to talk to if I want to make a little... unorthodox cash."
The figure tilted their head slightly, their posture rigid. "And who told you that?"
Django shrugged. "Let's just say I've got an eye for opportunity." He gestured around the room. "This? This screams 'opportunity.'"
The figure remained silent for a moment, then motioned for him to follow. "Come," they said. "If you want to talk business, we'll see how serious you are."
Django followed them deeper into the building, the glow of the runes fading as they entered a larger chamber. The room was filled with people—some wearing cloaks similar to his guide's, others clad in mismatched armor and gear that looked like it had been salvaged straight out of a dungeon. Tables lined the walls, each piled high with crates of monster parts, enchanted weapons, and other items Django couldn't even begin to identify.
At the center of it all sat a massive desk, behind which lounged a woman who exuded power. She was dressed in a fitted leather jacket adorned with glowing sigils, her legs crossed as she sipped from a steaming cup. Her sharp, angular features and piercing gaze made it clear she wasn't someone to mess with.
"Another one looking to make it big?" she asked, her voice dripping with disinterest as she sized Django up.
But Django wasn't intimidated. In fact, the moment he locked eyes with her, he felt a grin creeping across his face—part confidence, part mischief. Damn, he thought. This boss is hot.
"Looking to make it big?" Django repeated, cocking his head. "Sure. But now I'm thinking I might've found something—or someone—even more interesting than money."
The room seemed to pause for a moment. Conversations died down, and several heads turned to watch the exchange. Even the woman behind the desk raised an eyebrow, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance.
"Really?" she drawled, leaning back in her chair and fixing him with a pointed stare. "And here I thought you were here to do business."
"Babe, don't play."
The woman's sharp gaze snapped to her left, only to find Django casually perched on the edge of her desk, one leg crossed over the other, a cocky grin plastered across his face.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of disbelief flashing in her eyes. When the hell did he move?
The room grew deadly quiet. Everyone—lieutenants, grunts, even the cloaked figures—was frozen in place, their eyes darting between their boss and the audacious newcomer who had the nerve to waltz into their lair and treat it like his personal playground.
She blinked, recovering quickly, her expression slipping back into cold neutrality, though her fingers tapped lightly against the desk. "You've got guts, I'll give you that," she said, her voice calm but laced with warning.
"Guts?" Django said, leaning slightly closer, his grin widening. "Babe, it's not just guts. It's charm, intelligence, and a sense of adventure. You know... all the things you're clearly dying to see more of."
Her jaw tightened, but her lips twitched ever so slightly, as if resisting the urge to smirk. "You've got five seconds to move before I decide whether I'm annoyed or impressed," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
The room grew deadly quiet. Everyone—lieutenants, grunts, even the cloaked figures—was frozen in place, their eyes darting between their boss and the audacious newcomer who had the nerve to waltz into their lair and treat it like his personal playground.
She blinked, recovering quickly, her expression slipping back into cold neutrality, though her fingers tapped lightly against the desk. "You've got guts, I'll give you that," she said, her voice calm but laced with warning.
"Guts?" Django said, leaning slightly closer, his grin widening. "Babe, it's not just guts. It's charm, intelligence, and a sense of adventure. You know... all the things you're clearly dying to see more of."
Her jaw tightened, but her lips twitched ever so slightly, as if resisting the urge to smirk. "You've got five seconds to move before I decide whether I'm annoyed or impressed," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
Django raised his hands in mock surrender, but his grin didn't waver. "Alright, alright. I get it. You're a busy woman with important things to do. But I figured I'd make it easy for you." He leaned back slightly, still on her desk. "Now you don't have to crane your neck to look at me."
That did it. A sharp laugh escaped her lips, startling everyone in the room. It wasn't the laugh of someone amused, though—it was the kind of laugh that said, You're walking a thin line, and I'm deciding whether to push you off.
"You're lucky I'm feeling generous today," she said, fixing him with a piercing stare. "Otherwise, you'd be picking your teeth off my floor."
"Noted," Django said, sliding off the desk and raising his hands again in playful retreat. "But hey, at least I made you laugh. That's gotta be worth something, right?"
She shook her head, finally letting a small smirk escape. "You're a cocky little shit, aren't you?"
"Guilty as charged," Django replied, stepping back and giving her a small bow. "But you gotta admit, it makes me memorable."
Her smirk lingered as she turned her attention back to the room. "Alright, show's over," she called out, her voice snapping like a whip. "Get back to work!"
The room immediately came back to life, filled with murmurs and shuffling as her people returned to their tasks.
She turned back to Django, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You've got my attention, charmer. Let's see if you can keep it."
"Trust me," Django said, his grin unwavering, "I'm just getting started. You guys work for me now."
And then, the woman laughed. It wasn't a small chuckle or even a mocking snicker—it was a booming, full-bodied laugh that seemed to shake the very walls of the room. Her sharp, angular features lit up with amusement as she leaned back in her chair, gripping her sides as if she might collapse from the sheer audacity of his statement.
"Why," she managed between fits of laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "would we—an illegal operation running some of the most dangerous and lucrative trades in the world—work for you? What kind of delusion are you living in, pretty boy?"
Django smirked, completely unfazed by her laughter or the sharp stares of everyone in the room. "I got 8 million reasons why. And, well… I kinda need members."
The room went silent again, but this time it wasn't out of tension—it was out of sheer confusion. The boss lady leaned forward slightly, her sharp, piercing eyes narrowing as she studied him.
"Why—why?" she said slowly, her voice laced with incredulity. She tilted her head, her expression a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. "You just walk in here, throw out a number like 8 million Aurum, and then casually admit you need us? Why would someone with that kind of money need a bunch of misfits and black-market traders?"
Django's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider. "Simple," he said, spreading his hands as if presenting an obvious truth. "I might have the cash, but money alone doesn't build an empire. I need people who know how to get things done—people who don't play by the rules." He gestured around the room. "And let's face it: you've got the skills, the connections, and the grit to pull off things no one else can. I'd be an idiot not to work with you."
Her eyes narrowed further, and Django could feel her trying to size him up. She wasn't just listening to his words—she was watching his posture, the way he carried himself, even the way his grin didn't falter under her scrutiny.
"Hmm," she muttered, leaning back in her chair. "You're not lying."
"Of course I'm not," Django said, folding his arms confidently. "Why lie when the truth is way more fun?"
The boss lady chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Alright, rich boy. Let me get this straight. You've got money, but no team. No experience. No street smarts. And yet you walk in here, acting like you own the place, and expect us to take you seriously?"
"That's about the gist of it, yeah," Django replied casually. He than casually pulled out his phone, swiping through a few screens. "Let me check something real quick," he said, ignoring her glare as he scrolled. He stopped, tapping a glowing icon and raising an eyebrow. "Ah, here we go. Ever heard of a start-up guild called Ember Chain?"
The room went still again, the name hanging in the air like a loaded question.
The boss lady's expression didn't change, but her fingers drummed lightly on the desk. "Ember Chain?" she repeated, her voice flat. "Yeah, I've heard of them. Small-time group. Barely scraping by. Rumor is they've lost more members than they've recruited. Why? Don't tell me you're trying to get involved with those losers."
Django grinned, leaning back slightly. "See, that's exactly why I need you. I just dropped 20 million Aurum on them."
The collective gasp in the room was audible, followed immediately by murmurs of disbelief. Even the boss lady's normally unshakable demeanor cracked, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
"You what?" she said, her voice sharper now.
"Bought myself a guild," Django said nonchalantly, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Well, technically, I 'sponsored' them. Same thing. They've got potential, but they're rough around the edges—like a diamond in the dirt."
"You spent 20 mills on those losers?"
Django smirked, holding up a finger as if to say, Wait, there's more. "Oh, that's not all." He slipped his phone back out and tapped the screen a few times, his grin widening as he spoke. "I also bought into a tech firm—Vortex, you've probably heard of them. AI-driven mana management? High growth potential."
She tilted her head slightly, intrigue flickering across her face.
"And," Django continued, holding up two fingers now, "I snagged a robotics start-up—Xion Automations. They make drones and mana-powered mining bots for dungeon divers."
Murmurs rippled through the room, but Django wasn't done. He leaned forward, his grin turning downright smug.
"And," he said, dragging out the word, "I also dropped 13 million Aurum on a 10% stake in the Copper Ravine Mining Dungeon."
That was when the room truly erupted. Gasps, exclamations, and even a few outright curses filled the air. The tension turned electric as the weight of his words settled over everyone present.
The boss lady's expression faltered for the first time, her sharp eyes widening slightly. "You bought into a dungeon?" she said, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Django leaned back, crossing his arms. "Sure did. Full access to one of the most stable mining dungeons in the region. Mana ore, enchanted copper—steady income, minimal risk." He shrugged, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.
"That's... no small feat," she muttered, her eyes narrowing again as she studied him. "Most people can't even get near dungeon ownership without a guild backing or corporate sponsorship."
"Sounds like a skill issue," Django replied with a cocky grin. "And for the price of 20 million Aurum and you spending time with me in my bed, I'd love to fully expand into the black market through you."
The room froze, the tension so thick it felt like the runes on the walls dimmed for a second. Then came the flash of steel.
Before anyone could process what happened, she had drawn her blade—a sleek, curved sword crackling with mana—and slashed at him in one fluid motion. It was faster than any human could track, faster than any sane person could react. But Django didn't flinch.
He raised a single finger, catching the edge of the glowing blade effortlessly. The sword crackled with energy, but Django's finger didn't budge.
The room collectively inhaled. Her lieutenants had their hands on their weapons, but no one moved. Everyone's eyes were locked on Django, who stood there casually, his cocky grin still plastered across his face.
"Something the matter?" Django asked, his tone as light as if he were commenting on the weather. His finger gently pushed the blade aside as if it were nothing more than a twig.
The boss lady's eyes narrowed, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the hilt of her sword. But for a moment, her shock betrayed her. How the hell did he block that so easily?
"You talk big," she said, her voice steady but tinged with intrigue. She sheathed her sword in one sharp motion, her piercing gaze locking onto him. "But now I see you've got more than just money and a mouth. What the hell are you?"
Django shrugged, flexing the finger he'd used to block the strike. "Just a guy with ambition," he said. "And maybe a few tricks up my sleeve. You're the one who got aggressive."
"You made an offer that deserved a response," she snapped, though the corner of her lips twitched upward in a hint of a smirk.
"And I blocked it," Django said smoothly, leaning slightly closer. "So does that mean the deal's still on the table? Or do I need to prove myself another way?"
She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet, you haven't kicked me out," Django pointed out, his grin widening.
"Because you're entertaining," she admitted, leaning back in her chair. Her smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. "But don't think you can walk in here, block one strike, and suddenly call the shots. If you want to expand into the black market, you're going to have to prove you can handle the heat. Words and parlor tricks won't cut it."
Django raised an eyebrow. "So what's the test this time?"
She tilted her head. "We've got a shipment heading out tomorrow. High-value goods, top-tier monster parts. It's a prime target, and every gang, guild, and bounty hunter in the district is going to want a piece of it. You keep it safe, deliver it on time, and maybe—maybe—I'll take you seriously."
Django crossed his arms, considering her words for a moment. Then he grinned. "That all? Sounds like a warm-up."
She rolled her eyes, though the smirk never left her face. "Keep up that confidence, charmer. You're going to need it."
As she gestured for one of her lieutenants to brief him on the shipment details, Django turned back to her, his grin still firmly in place.
"By the way," he said, "you didn't say no to the bed part."
Her smirk sharpened, and she tilted her head slightly. "Keep the shipment safe, and we'll see."
The room erupted into a mix of gasps and laughter as Django chuckled, heading out with the lieutenant.