“Oh wow! Leveling speed’s insane!”
Bradley, lounging nearby and leeching XP, leveled up as though he were strapped to a rocket. Early on, every few elite monsters earned him a full level. By the time the last waves of monsters were cleared, he had climbed to Level 19, just shy of the Level 20 milestone.
“Broke. Absolutely broke. A Level 25 elite boss, and all I get is trash.”
As the final elite boss fell, Orson checked the loot. There were no brilliant purple beams signaling legendary items—just a few unimpressive blue-tier gear pieces.
“You’ve obtained 5 gold.”
“You’ve obtained a dungeon quest scroll: [Dragon Maiden].”
“Wait, an Abyss-level dungeon lead?”
Orson paused, intrigued. He opened his inventory to examine the scroll.
[Lost Kingdom of the Frost Dragon]: Travel to the outskirts of Purple Thunder Fortress to search for the maiden. Danger awaits at every turn. The gods will pray for your survival—good luck!
A quest marker appeared on his map, pinpointing Purple Thunder Fortress, the second major player hub. Located far from Pondenorlin City, it was surrounded by significantly stronger monsters.
Some players, eager to advance the main storyline, had already braved the journey to unlock the teleport node for future convenience.
“An Abyss-level dungeon… now this is interesting.”
Abyss-level content was notorious. Even Legendary difficulty was grueling, but Abyss was the stuff of nightmares. In his previous life, it took six months and a team of professionals to conquer the first Abyss dungeon.
But as daunting as the difficulty was, so too were the rewards—legendary gear, A-tier skill books, and beyond.
—
With the 24-hour defense mission complete, Orson and Bradley were returned to a normal instance of the map. The surrounding NPC soldiers and altered terrain vanished, resetting to their default states.
—
“Server Announcement: Player Orgod has achieved the impossible, defending Pondenorlin’s outer city against a relentless monster siege!”
“First Clear Achievement: Legendary Dungeon [City Siege Defense]!”
“Reward: 100,000 XP, 30 skill points, 25 free attribute points, 30 gold, 20,000 reputation!”
—
The announcement stunned the server into a momentary silence.
“So that’s how he got a full archer set—this was a Legendary dungeon!”
“Phew… at least it didn’t say it was a solo clear. That would’ve been terrifying.”
Players let out sighs of relief, reassuring themselves. Orgod, after all, was a seasoned professional with strong allies. It was only natural he could clear a Legendary dungeon.
Little did they know that Orson’s only teammate was Bradley, who had contributed nothing but fiddling with his new class skills.
—
Bradley: “What’s with the lack of monsters?”
He twirled his dual swords, glancing around in confusion.
Orson: “You idiot, the mission’s over. You’ve been AFK leeching XP this whole time!”
Bradley scratched his head sheepishly, then laughed. “Time to grind to Level 20. Once I’m there, I’ll be unstoppable!”
Orson chuckled but remained silent. The Light-Dark Sword Saint class was undoubtedly strong, but it required meticulous practice. Its signature dual-wielding mechanics came with steep learning curves, and ditching a shield for offense made mistakes far more punishing.
—
Orson: “By the way, how did you even pass your trial? It sounded like you were seconds away from quitting.”
Bradley smirked. “Easy! Money Traveler’s a genius.”
Orson raised an eyebrow, expecting some flashy skill combo or a stroke of luck. Instead, he got…
Bradley had noticed that his trial NPC, Iceheart, was a notorious alcoholic. When all else failed, Bradley bought a wagon of strong liquor for 10 gold and offered it to him.
Once Iceheart was drunk beyond coherence, Bradley challenged him to a duel. Sure enough, the drunken saint made a critical error, allowing Bradley to score the single point of damage required to pass the trial.
—
Orson was dumbfounded. “I’ll give it to you—you’re learning how this game works.”
—
He tossed a full Level 20 [Bloodthirsty Centurion] Warrior Set to Bradley.
Bradley: “Damn, Orson, you’re living the dream. I’m coming to get you tomorrow. Let’s move you out of that dump into a proper guild base.”
Orson nodded; the idea had been on his mind. With his newfound wealth, there was no reason to remain in his run-down apartment. His outdated gaming pod lacked proper support for long sessions, and a guild headquarters would make collaboration easier.
—
Logging out, Orson climbed out of his pod, exhausted but satisfied. His body felt fine, but the mental strain of extended grinding was no joke.
At 10 p.m., he checked in with his sister via text. Learning that a team of specialists had been assigned to her case reassured him. “Charles, you bastard,” he muttered. “Your morals suck, but I can’t deny your efficiency.”
As he made himself instant noodles, Orson mused, “Only I would eat this stuff while holding tens of millions in gold.”
It was a simple indulgence. In the post-apocalyptic future, food options were dire, and instant noodles were a rare treat.
“Incredible how much progress I’ve made in just a few days.”
From SSR to Dragon’s Kiss Guild, from the gods to the demonic factions—Orson’s enemies were lining up.
“Let’s see who comes out on top.”
—
Lighting a cigarette, Orson stepped onto the balcony to enjoy the rare peace of the night. In three years, this world would change forever. For now, he savored the fleeting calm.
—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sudden noise jarred him. “At this hour?”
His instincts flared. Keeping still, he peered through the peephole.
The knocking grew louder.
“Orson, open up. We need to talk.”
The voice outside was impatient, but Orson remained silent.
“Don’t play dumb. Your meter’s running—we know you’re home.”
Finally, Orson replied calmly, “Hold on. I’m coming.”
—
Opening the door, Orson found himself facing three men and one woman. The men were imposing, their faces hard and unfriendly.
The woman, dressed in a leather jacket and exuding authority, stepped forward. “Gabrielle, legal counsel for the DK Corporation.”
Orson’s expression remained neutral.
“What? Not inviting us in?” Gabrielle smirked.
“Of course. Come in.”
Orson gestured toward the dimly lit living room, though his eyes never left the three men. One stood by the door, another blocked the hallway, and the third loomed behind him.
—
Gabrielle: “You should know who we are.”
Orson: “Dragon’s Kiss Guild’s backers. Am I right?”
Gabrielle chuckled. “Smart. Let’s get to the point. You have three choices.”
She placed a stack of documents on the table, her tone cold.
—
Gabrielle: “First, join Dragon’s Kiss Guild as vice-president for an annual salary of 500 million.”
Gabrielle: “Second, accept a one-time buyout of 1 billion and delete your account.”
—
As Orson slurped his noodles, Gabrielle’s eyes flashed with irritation.
“And third?” Orson asked nonchalantly.
Gabrielle: “Third, your match-fixing scandal resurfaces, this time with irrefutable evidence. You’ll spend the next decade behind bars.”
Her smile turned predatory.