Free Web NovelChapter 145: [145] : Avoiding the Swarm, Biological Overwrite
The Iron Bastion was completely deafening.
The moment the massive golden system prompt vanished from the sky, the three thousand players packed into the stone courtyard absolutely lost their minds.
They had just survived a literal server wipe. They had just watched a Level 100 machine god get permanently deleted from the database by a single guy with a really big, physics-breaking stick.
Weapons clattered to the ground as players just collapsed onto the stone pavement, completely drained of all adrenaline.
Declan stood near the heavy iron gates.
He casually dismissed the massive plus 40 Eclipse Severance halberd back into his digital inventory. The dark matter weapon vanished into a swirl of blue pixels, taking its terrifying gravitational pull with it.
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. His dark, purple-swirling eyes scanned the cheering crowd. He was not celebrating. He just wanted a hot cup of dirt-flavored coffee and a quiet place to sit down.
Fighting a Level 100 Purge Entity took a lot out of a guy, even with broken stats.
"Player V."
Declan turned his head. Commander Richter was walking toward him through the sea of celebrating players.
The Level 70 Vanguard looked like a massive weight had just been lifted off his heavily armored shoulders. He had his glowing tactical helmet tucked under his left arm. His battle-scarred face was pale, and he looked incredibly tired, but his eyes were sharp and highly focused.
Nova, the elite corporate hacker, walked right behind him.
She was still wearing the spare black tactical jacket she had pulled over her ruined silver cybernetic suit. She didn’t look at Declan with her usual icy, untouchable arrogance.
She kept her head down slightly, her blue eyes darting toward the ground. She looked at him with sheer, undeniable terror mixed with a heavy dose of respect.
"That was unprecedented." Richter said as he stopped a few feet away. He let out a long, heavy breath, running a hand through his short hair.
"I have been working as a contractor for Apex Paradigm for four years. I know how they code their administrative tools. I have never seen a Purge Entity get manually bypassed like that. You just broke the core progression of the entire Grid."
"The system threw a giant robot at my house," Declan said casually, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his pitch-black Predator’s Coat. "I just took out the trash. It was incredibly annoying."
Richter didn’t laugh. He looked completely serious.
He tapped a button on his wrist gauntlet, bringing up a glowing blue holographic document in the air between them.
"I am a pragmatic man," Richter started, shifting right back into his corporate military persona. "The borders between Sector 6 and Sector 7 are dropping. The Paradigm are actively losing their grip on the real world. We need stability. I want to solidify a permanent, binding corporate alliance between my Praetorian Guard and your Eclipse Legion."
Declan raised an eyebrow. "An alliance."
"A full merger of assets," Richter nodded quickly, swiping the blue screen toward Declan. "We have thousands of max-leveled mercenaries. We have high-tier artillery. You have absolute administrative control, an impenetrable dome, and weapon stats that mathematically break the server."
"If we combine our forces, we can establish a joint-stock governing body. We can draft a mutual defense pact. We can corner the market on Void-Ore and set up a new global currency based on your Origin Point treasury."
Declan stared at the glowing contract hovering in the air.
It was filled with hundreds of lines of dense legal text, clauses, and sub-sections. It looked like the kind of paperwork that would take a team of lawyers a month to read.
Richter was genuinely trying to play boardroom politics in the middle of a literal apocalypse.
"You want to set up a joint-stock company," Declan repeated slowly, making sure he was hearing this right. "Richter, the world just ended. The board of directors is dead. I turned Director Sterling into a compressed golf ball of gore. Money does not exist anymore. I don’t sign contracts."
"But the infrastructure!" Richter tried to argue, pointing at the massive black iron walls around them. "We need a chain of command to maintain order!"
"I am the infrastructure," Declan cut him off smoothly, his voice dropping to a heavy bass. "I don’t need a corporate merger. You guys work for me now. That is the treaty. Deal with it."
Before Richter could process that absolute shutdown, the noise in the courtyard shifted dramatically.
The cheering and crying had stopped. The three thousand refugees had finally processed exactly who had saved them.
They all turned their heads. Thousands of eyes locked onto the Warlord in the pitch-black coat standing near the gates.
"There he is!" a warrior yelled, pointing a rusty iron sword at Declan.
"Player V! The Warlord!"
The crowd surged forward. It wasn’t an organized march. It was a rabid, desperate stampede of highly motivated gamers.
"Teach me!" a low-level rogue screamed, pushing his way to the front of the pack. "I’ll do anything! Let me join the Shadow Legion! I want a dark matter weapon! Tell me the exploit!"
"Please give me some gear!" a woman yelled, practically climbing over a heavy tank player just to get closer. "I’ll be your servant! I’ll farm rocks for you forever! Just give me ten Origin Points to buy a shield!"
"Take my guild!" another guy shouted, waving his hands frantically in the air. "We pledge absolute loyalty! Be our god! Let us wash your boots!"
Declan took a step back. His face twisted in pure, unfiltered disgust.
He didn’t mind fighting monsters. He didn’t mind deleting arrogant corporate hit squads. But dealing with thousands of desperate, screaming fanboys trying to grab his coat?
That was an absolute nightmare.
The mob was closing in fast. They were trampling each other, totally ignoring the fact that he was a walking, physics-breaking glitch that could delete them with a single thought.
They just saw a guy who could print infinite money and immortality.
"Back up," Declan’s voice rumbled with heavy Abyssal bass, making the stone ground vibrate beneath their feet.
The crowd didn’t listen. They were completely crazed with greed and relief. They kept pushing forward, reaching their hands out toward him like he was a religious savior.
"I am not signing autographs," Declan muttered.
Sloane ran up to the side, gripping her green healing staff like a baseball bat. She looked completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of players rushing their position.
"Boss! They’re rushing the gate area! I can’t keep them in line!"
"Quartermaster," Declan looked at her. "Manage the public relations. I am going to my office."
"Wait, what? Declan, don’t leave me with them!" Sloane panicked, her eyes going wide as the wave of players got within twenty feet. "I’m a medic, not a riot control officer!"
Declan didn’t wait. He didn’t want anyone touching his high-tier gear.
"Void Blink."
The world went pitch black for a fraction of a millisecond.
Declan vanished from the courtyard entirely, leaving Sloane to deal with the screaming masses. free𝑤ebnovel.com
He didn’t just teleport fifteen feet. He rapidly chained his blinks together, shooting straight up into the air. He bypassed the heavy iron walls, the massive purple forges, and the cheering crowds. He aimed straight for the towering central keep of the Iron Bastion.
He materialized perfectly on the highest balcony of the massive iron tower. He stepped through the heavy double doors and walked into his private penthouse.
It was a massive, sprawling room. Bram had designed it using the base code of the city. The walls were made of sleek, dark metal that absorbed the light. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the tall gothic windows.
A massive, plush leather chair sat in the center of the room, right next to a crackling digital fireplace.
It was perfectly quiet. The thick walls completely blocked out the noise of the three thousand screaming players down below.
Declan let out a long sigh and slumped heavily into the leather chair. He kicked his plus 10 Spiked Striders up onto a small stone table.
"Bureaucracy and fan clubs," Declan grumbled, rubbing his temples to fight off a minor system headache. "I should have just let the big laser hit them. It would have been much quieter."
He sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the absolute silence of his private safe zone.
He didn’t have to dodge plasma fire. He didn’t have to listen to Richter’s corporate synergy pitches or Sloane’s complaints about the treasury.
He just needed to look at his loot.
He had survived the Server Wipe Protocol. He had hit the Level 75 cap.
But he knew the game wasn’t over.
The Outer Sectors were open. Alien players like Korr, the Saint of Embers, were going to keep coming. The system was going to keep throwing higher-level threats at Earth until the planet was fully assimilated into the Grid.
Declan raised his right hand.
He needed to push his physical vessel past the mortal limits. He needed to break the ceiling again. He needed to be absolutely untouchable in both dimensions.
"System," Declan commanded in the quiet room. "Open digital storage. Filter by Boss Cores."
It was time to do some highly illegal crafting.
