Chapter 15
Adrian Voss sat on the sofa of his newly rented apartment, sinking into its firm yet comfortable cushions. The room around him was a far cry from his previous, shabby place—a noticeable upgrade, yet still modest.
White walls, a clean wooden floor, and a simple but functional layout gave him the space and quiet he needed. It wasn't luxury, not yet, but it was enough.
No more cramped corners, no more flickering lights, no more neighbors shouting through thin walls. Just peace, quiet, and control.
He stretched his arms over his head, exhaling slowly.
His laptop rested on the coffee table, its screen casting a faint glow in the dimly lit room.
The numbers flickering across it weren't just random data—they were his battlefield. Gold-to-crypto conversions, transaction records, market fluctuations.
Every digit told a story of supply, demand, and manipulation.
His wealth was growing steadily, but not fast enough.
Leaning forward, he tapped a few keys. His crypto wallets opened up in front of him, neatly sorted across multiple merchant alts.
He had long since learned that a single account was too risky.
The top guilds controlled supply and demand, monitoring major economic shifts. If they noticed a sudden surge in material sales, they might trace it back to him. That couldn't happen.
His eyes skimmed over the latest transactions.
Materials for skill buff potion prices had spiked by 12% overnight, while alchemical herbs had plummeted—typical guild price control tactics.
They were flooding the market with herbs while hoarding metals, forcing independent traders like him to either sell at a loss or hold out.
Adrian chuckled. If they thought he'd panic, they were wrong.
He sat back, rubbing his chin. If he continued selling raw materials, he'd eventually be noticed. Even if he spread transactions across multiple accounts, the sheer volume would stand out.
No, this was a trap laid by the guilds, and he wasn't about to walk into it.
He needed another approach.
His fingers danced across the keyboard as he pulled up the marketplace data. The solution was simple—stop playing into their hands.
Instead of selling materials, he'd refine them.
Potions.
There were plenty of sellers, but demand was always high. More importantly, if he handled production himself, he could sustain a steady supply for his own use without relying on market prices.
A self-sufficient economy.
His lips curled into a smirk. Yes, this could work.
Shutting his laptop, he grabbed his bag and headed out.
Stepping outside, he pulled his hoodie over his head, blending into the quiet hum of city life. Neon lights flickered along the streets, advertising VR capsule lounges, gaming cafés, and late-night food stalls.
His gaze flickered to the display windows of a VR capsule store, where the latest models gleamed under bright showroom lights.
One day. Not yet.
He continued walking, weaving past pedestrians until he reached the familiar glow of the internet café. The door chimed as he stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the quiet hum of gaming rigs. Rows of players sat hunched over keyboards or reclined in capsules, lost in their own virtual battles.
He approached the counter, handing over payment without a word. The cashier barely looked up before sliding him a receipt. Routine. Efficient. Just how he liked it.
Taking his seat, he secured the VR headset and settled in. A brief moment of darkness, then the world of Primordial Abyss swallowed him whole, logging him in as Raven.
The Abyssal darkness wrapped around him like a second skin, familiar and endless. His interface pulsed to life, icons flickering in the shadows. But as he navigated to his dungeon management panel, a frown crept across his face.
Something was wrong.
Raven's eyes narrowed as he examined the latest reports from Veilshade Catacombs. The first thing he noticed was a drop in dungeon visits—almost no player entries in the past 24 hours. That alone was concerning. If no players entered, that meant no loot, no market circulation, and no new waves of experience for his minions.
But what unsettled him more was the second anomaly.
Minions were dying.
That shouldn't be possible.
If no players had entered, his dungeon should have been untouched—monsters only spawned when players triggered the instance. And yet, the logs showed regular intervals of minion deaths, as if something was methodically eliminating them.
A cold sensation settled in his gut. An attack—but from an invisible source.
He flicked through the data, scanning for any patterns. A single PK ambush or raid would have been a one-time event, but this had been happening continuously for the past six hours—something or someone was making his minions disappear at regular intervals.
A bug exploit? PK hackers? A hidden faction?
Raven tightened his grip on the controls. He wasn't the type to panic—but this situation required immediate action. His mind raced, considering his next step. He needed more information before making a move.
He forced himself to think clearly. There was one place to start—the player forums.
Opening a secondary window, he navigated to the community discussion boards. If something suspicious was happening, players would be talking about it. He scrolled quickly through the most recent posts, filtering out the usual guild drama and patch complaints.
Then he found it.
A new post was trending, gaining traction fast. The title caught his attention instantly:
"Bloodfeast PK Squad - Veilshade Catacombs Gank"
His pulse slowed as he clicked the thread. A video had been uploaded—grainy footage, but clear enough. It showed a small party entering Veilshade Catacombs, only to be ambushed by an unseen force.
It wasn't just a ganker waiting to snipe unsuspecting players. This was something else—an entire guild camping inside his dungeon, farming and ganking anyone who dared to enter.
That's why no players had set foot in Veilshade Catacombs for over 24 hours. It had to be stopped. The drops, materials, and EXP were his.
Not theirs.