Started with a 10,000x Multiplier in a Game World

Dante pushed through the glass doors of Joe’s Diner.

The small brass bell above the door jingled. It was a completely normal and mundane sound.

After three months of listening to the screeching of Void-beasts and the wet crunch of bones breaking, the little jingle felt incredibly out of place.

He slid into a cracked red vinyl booth in the back corner. The table was slightly sticky. The air smelled strongly of synthetic bacon, frying grease, and coffee.

To Dante, it was absolute heaven.

A middle-aged waitress wearing a stained yellow apron walked over. She dropped a plastic menu onto the table.

"What can I get you, hun?" she asked, pulling a notepad from her pocket.

"Three plates of eggs, extra crispy bacon, a stack of pancakes, and the biggest mug of black coffee you have," Dante said. He didn’t even glance at the menu.

The waitress raised an eyebrow. "You sure? That’s a lot of food for one guy."

"I haven’t eaten a real meal in about ninety days," Dante replied smoothly. "I am starving."

She gave him a weird look but shrugged, scribbling the order down. "Coming right up."

Dante leaned back against the booth and let out a long breath. His body felt heavy and sluggish.

The physical body on Veridia was kept alive by the VR capsule’s intravenous nutrient drips. However, it didn’t prevent muscle atrophy or the sheer mental exhaustion of fighting for your life every single day.

He needed calories, and he needed a plan.

Suddenly, the diner’s mounted flat-screen TV glitched.

The morning sports broadcast cut out in a burst of harsh static. The screen went completely black.

Every single phone in the diner buzzed at the exact same time.

Dante didn’t flinch. He knew exactly what was happening.

A glowing, blood-red holographic interface projected directly out of the TV screen. It expanded into the middle of the diner for everyone to see.

The text hovered in the air, identical to the system prompts Dante saw inside the game.

[Ding!]

[Global Directive: Phase Two Initiated]

[Destination Realm: Overture]

[Attention Citizens of Veridia. The Aethelgard cycle has concluded. The Zenith Protocol will initiate the launch of the next game world, ’Overture’, in exactly 24:00:00 hours.]

[Objective: Humanity must clear all core zones of Overture and slay the World Boss.]

[Penalty for Failure: Planetary Eradication of Veridia.]

[Prepare yourselves, Outworlders.]

The red text hung in the air for ten seconds before shattering into pixels.

Dead silence filled the diner.

Then, absolute panic erupted!

A guy sitting at the counter dropped his coffee mug. It shattered on the floor, splashing hot liquid everywhere.

Two people bolted out the front door without paying.

The waitress stood frozen near the kitchen window. She stared at the blank TV screen with wide and terrified eyes.

"They’re going to blow up the planet," a man in a business suit muttered, gripping his hair. "We are dead. We are all dead."

Dante just tapped his fingers on the table.

"Hey," Dante called out, waving to the frozen waitress. "Is that coffee still coming?"

The people in the diner stared at him like he was a psychopath.

Dante ignored them completely. He was already used to the Zenith Protocol’s insane stakes.

Panicking didn’t boost your stats. It just got you killed faster.

The TV screen flickered back to life. The regular news broadcast slammed onto the screen, replacing the red system prompt.

The news anchor looked terrified. He was sweating under the studio lights, reading off a teleprompter with trembling lips.

"We are now switching live to the Global Defense Coalition headquarters in Sector 4," the anchor stammered. "We have an exclusive statement from Silas, Vice-Master of the Vanguard Guild, the heroes who just cleared the Aethelgard realm and bought humanity this brief window of survival."

Dante’s eyes narrowed. He sat up a little straighter.

The camera feed cut to a massive press room. Hundreds of reporters were shouting and flashing cameras.

Standing at the podium was Silas.

He was out of his VR capsule, wearing a pristine and tailored black suit.

He looked perfectly put together, aside from a strategically placed bandage on his cheek to make him look like a weary war hero.

Silas gripped the edges of the podium, hanging his head low. He took a deep and shuddering breath.

"Today is a day of victory, but also a day of immeasurable tragedy," Silas said into the microphones. His voice was thick with fake emotion.

"We defeated Malakor. We secured the survival of Veridia for another cycle. But the cost... the cost was too high."

Silas paused, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes.

"My brother in arms. The man who founded our guild. Vanguard... is dead."

Gasps echoed from the reporters on the TV.

In the diner, the business suit guy covered his mouth.

"Oh man, the number one player died?" someone whispered near the counter.

Dante sat in his booth, watching the screen with a completely blank expression.

"He fought bravely," Silas continued, his voice cracking perfectly on cue. "He took a fatal blow meant for me. He died in my arms, right as the boss fell. His last words to me were a plea to keep humanity safe. To lead us into the next world."

’Wow.’ Dante muttered to himself. ’He even practiced the voice crack. That is dedication to the bit.’

Silas looked up, staring directly into the camera with a look of manufactured and fiery determination.

"I will not let his sacrifice be in vain," Silas declared. "The Zenith Protocol has given us an ultimatum. Overture is launching in twenty-four hours."

"To honor my fallen brother, I am officially rebranding our guild. From this day forward, we are Vanguard’s Legacy."

The reporters erupted into frantic shouting, throwing questions at him.

"I have secured the ultimate drop from Aethelgard," Silas yelled over the noise, holding up a hand.

"With my leadership, Vanguard’s Legacy will dominate Overture. We will recruit the best, we will secure the safe zones, and we will win! For Vanguard! For Veridia!"

The feed cut back to the news anchor, who was practically in tears.

Dante leaned back as the waitress finally brought his food over. She set the plates down with shaking hands.

"Eat up, hun," she whispered nervously. "Might be our last meal."

"Thanks," Dante said, picking up a fork.

He didn’t rage. He didn’t flip the table or scream at the TV.

His mind just turned incredibly cold, locking into a calculated and mechanical focus.

Silas’s PR move was disgusting, but undeniably genius.

By claiming Dante died a hero and using his name, Silas had instantly inherited all of Dante’s fame, public goodwill, and influence.

Millions of players would flock to join Vanguard’s Legacy, thinking they were honoring the dead number one player.

Worse, Silas had the [Aegis Blueprint].

Dante shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

In the Zenith Protocol, everyone starts at Level 1 in a new world. All your epic swords, magic spells, and massive stat pools get wiped clean.

You start over in starter clothes with basic skills.

But the Blueprint was a Supreme Artifact. It bypassed the reset.

Silas would be able to craft an end-game fortress or world-tier weapon within the first week of Overture.

He would have an unbeatable head start.

He would monopolize the best hunting grounds, hoard the best skillbooks, and tax the millions of players desperately trying to survive.

Silas was going to build a massive and untouchable empire.

"Let him build it," Dante mumbled, taking a sip of his black coffee. "It will just give me a bigger target to hit."

Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pinch of gray ash.

It was the only physical remnant of the [Tear of the Forgotten], the pendant that had saved him from real-world brain death just an hour ago.

He wiped his fingers on a napkin, his eyes narrowing at the dark smudge it left behind.

Lillian.

She had disappeared exactly two years ago. No argument, no packed bags.

She just vanished from their apartment while he was at work, leaving the crystal pendant sitting on the kitchen counter.

The local enforcers called it a standard missing persons case. They filed a report and forgot about her in a week.

Dante had worn the pendant every day since, hoping she would come back for it.

But the pendant wasn’t just a piece of cheap mall jewelry. The system had identified it as a Mythic-grade item!

The Zenith Protocol had only hijacked Earth’s networks and forced humanity into the capsules a year ago.

So how the hell did Lillian possess a game-system artifact a full year before the game even started?

Dante stared at the TV screen, where the news ticker was flashing the word ’Overture’ over and over again.

During the final weeks of Aethelgard, players had uncovered hidden lore fragments in the deep dungeons.

Vague texts talking about the origins of the Zenith Protocol.

One of the fragments Dante had translated mentioned a place called the ’Cradle of Overture’.

It was described as the staging ground for the system’s architects. The starting point.

If Lillian had a Mythic artifact before the system launched, she wasn’t just a random missing person.

She was a pioneer. A beta tester. Or maybe something else entirely.

Whatever the truth was, she had to be in Overture. The pendant saving his life was all the confirmation he needed.

She had left it for him. A lifeline.

Dante finished his pancakes with methodical speed.

He wasn’t tasting the syrup anymore. He was just fueling his body for the coming grind.

He had twenty-four hours before the servers forced everyone into Overture.

He had two distinct goals now.

First, he was going to find Lillian, no matter what digital hellscape he had to tear apart to do it.

Second, he was going to dismantle Silas’s shiny new empire.

He wasn’t going to just assassinate him. That was too easy.

Silas cared about fame, power, and being the center of attention. Dante was going to strip all of that away.

He was going to take every world first, steal every boss kill, and humiliate Vanguard’s Legacy until the entire planet saw Silas for the fraud he was.

Dante threw a twenty-credit chip onto the sticky table to cover the meal and a massive tip for the terrified waitress. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

He stood up, adjusting his jacket.

"Hey buddy," the business suit guy called out from the counter, his hands shaking around a coffee cup.

"Where are you going? Didn’t you hear the TV? The world is ending!"

Dante paused at the door. He looked back at the panicked diner patrons.

"The world isn’t ending," Dante said, pushing the glass door open. "It is just resetting. See you in Overture."

He stepped out into the neon-lit streets of Oakhaven.

The sirens were already blaring across the city skyline, warning citizens to get to their VR capsules.

Dante pulled his collar up against the cold wind and started walking back to his apartment.

He didn’t have an Aegis Blueprint. He didn’t have a massive guild backing him.

He was starting with absolutely nothing.

And for the first time in three months, he was genuinely smiling.