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

The canyon floor was a lake of bubbling and superheated slag.

Dante stood near the center. He was completely unbothered by the magma lapping at the edges of his iron boots.

The Inferno Behemoth was gone. It was reduced to a fading cloud of golden pixels that drifted upward into the ash-choked sky.

Malric was still standing thirty yards away. He was hiding behind a jagged chunk of wall.

The Enforcer hadn’t moved a muscle. He was just staring at Dante. He was likely waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Dante ignored him entirely. He had priorities.

Sitting directly in the center of the cooling magma pool was a massive ornate chest.

It was forged from black iron. It was lined with glowing veins of liquid gold. It was a Gold-tier boss chest.

Dante waded through the knee-deep lava. The [Sun-Forged Cuirass] easily mitigated the ambient heat damage.

He kicked the heavy latch open.

The chest hissed. It vented a cloud of pressurized white steam before the lid popped back.

He peered inside.

The first item was a long and twisted piece of blackened wood.

The top of the staff housed a large and jagged crystal that burned with an intense internal ember.

[Item Appraised: Staff of Cinders]

[Tier: Gold]

[Type: Two-Handed Magic Weapon]

[Stats: +450 Magical Attack, +200 Mana.]

[Passive: All fire-based spells cast with this weapon apply a stacking ’Burn’ debuff, dealing 5% of the Max HP of the target as true damage over 10 seconds.]

Dante picked it up and spun it casually in his hand.

It was an incredibly powerful weapon, but it was completely useless to him.

He was a Warrior. His entire build relied on physical scaling and spatial fractures.

He tossed the glowing staff directly into the infinite inventory of his [Band of the Void-Walker].

He reached back into the chest.

The second item was a pair of sleek and silver-plated greaves. They were surprisingly lightweight and lined with a dark fire-resistant leather.

[Item Appraised: Ash-Walker Treads]

[Tier: Silver]

[Type: Heavy Armor (Feet)]

[Stats: +150 Physical Defense, +50 Movement Speed.]

[Passive: Grants immunity to terrain-based movement penalties (Mud, Snow, Ash).]

"Finally," Dante muttered. His basic beginner boots were practically melting off his feet from the lava.

He tapped the greaves.

They instantly digitized into a stream of silver light. They replaced his ruined boots and wrapped seamlessly around his calves and feet.

The ambient sluggishness of walking through the thick magma vanished instantly.

He reached into the chest one last time and pulled out a small and red-bound book.

[Item Appraised: Skillbook - Flame-Dash]

[Tier: Novice]

[Description: A basic mobility skill. The user bursts forward ten feet and leaves a short trail of low-damage fire. Cooldown: 12 seconds.]

It was a standard low-tier movement ability. It was nothing special on its own.

But Dante didn’t care about the base stats. He cared about the Zenith-tier evolution.

He tapped the book and absorbed it into his skill menu. He saved the activation for when he actually needed it.

With the chest empty, it dissolved into nothing.

Dante opened his system interface and pulled up his private messages. He selected the name of Seraphina.

[Dan: You still online?]

The reply came back before he even closed the keyboard.

[Sera: I run a gaming studio. I am literally always online. What did you do this time? The forums are crashing.] 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

[Dan: Just cleared a Gold boss. I have a Gold-tier weapon. Staff of Cinders. Massive magical scaling with a percentage-based burn passive.]

There was a noticeable pause on the other end.

[Sera: Are you printing these items? I just wired you 1.2 billion credits twenty minutes ago for an entire guild worth of gear. How do you already have Gold-tier loot?]

[Dan: I am having a highly productive afternoon. Do you want the staff or not?]

[Sera: Obviously. I have a buyer in the Celestial Kingdom who will pay top dollar for a fire-mage carry weapon. Give me ten minutes to move the funds around.]

[Dan: Make it five. I might be busy soon.]

Dante closed the interface.

The ground beneath his feet was starting to vibrate again.

It wasn’t a boss spawn this time. The rhythmic and heavy thud of marching boots echoed down the canyon walls.

It was a sound he had heard just half an hour ago. But this time, it was significantly louder.

Dante looked up from the magma pool.

Malric had finally stepped out from behind his rock.

The Enforcer wasn’t cowering anymore. He was standing perfectly straight. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his broadsword.

A cold and arrogant smile had returned to his face.

"You should have used that teleport skill of yours to run while you had the chance," Malric called out. His voice echoed over the bubbling lava.

"Run from what?" Dante asked. "You?"

"No," Malric said and pointed up toward the canyon rim. "From them."

Dante looked up.

The ridges surrounding the massive clearing were completely packed.

A perfect and unbroken ring of players stood at the top of the cliffs. They looked down at the canyon floor.

They were all wearing the black and gold armbands of Vanguard’s Legacy.

There were at least three hundred of them.

Silas hadn’t just sent the Enforcers of Malric. He had emptied the entire guild roster.

He had pulled every single farming group, every dungeon squad, and every low-level recruit out of the starter zones and marched them straight to Embercraig.

They had the canyon entirely surrounded.

There was a solid wall of tower shields blocking the only exit path. It was backed by three neat rows of archers and mages with their weapons drawn.

And standing right next to Malric on the canyon floor was a very familiar face.

It was Vargas.

The rat-faced rogue was back.

He was wearing the basic linen shirt and pants of a fresh spawn. He held a cheap and rusty iron dagger in his trembling hand.

He looked absolutely terrified. His eyes darted frantically between Dante and the bubbling magma.

"Well, well," Dante said. A genuine laugh escaped his chest. "Look who decided to log back in. I thought you pulled the plug on your capsule, Vargas."

Vargas flinched and took a half-step backward. "Shut up, Vanguard."

"Silas threatened you, did he not?" Dante mocked. He casually rested the [Crimson Edge] on his shoulder.

"He told you if you did not log back in and join the firing squad, he would have his real-world security team break your legs. Or maybe he just threatened to zero out your bank accounts."

The face of Vargas flushed an ugly mottled red. "I said shut up! We have you surrounded! There is nowhere to teleport!"

"You are standing in a hazard zone with one life left, Vargas," Dante pointed out calmly.

"You do not have a free revive anymore. If you die here, your capsule fries your brain. You are risking real-world death for a guy who used you as bait three months ago."

Vargas gripped his rusty dagger so hard his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t step forward. He knew Dante was right.

Malric stepped cleanly in front of Vargas and cut off the conversation.

"Enough," Malric said sharply. He looked at Dante and his professional demeanor returned.

"You put on a good show with the Behemoth. I will admit, your damage output is a statistical anomaly. But we watched the whole fight."

"Did you?" Dante asked. "Did you take notes?"

"I did," Malric nodded.

"You hit hard, but you rely entirely on that Zenith-tier spatial fracture to burst targets. You have a pet that can heal you, but the cooldown window leaves you vulnerable."

"And those twelve clones you summoned? They vanished after exactly ten seconds. You are not a god, Dan. You are just a player with a broken skill rotation."

Malric gestured to the three hundred players lining the ridges above them.

"You are out of stamina," Malric continued, his voice echoing loudly.

"You are completely surrounded by fresh players with full mana bars. You are standing in the bottom of a canyon with no cover."

"The moment I give the order, three hundred people are going to drop a synchronized barrage of spells and arrows directly onto your head."

Dante didn’t look impressed. He just stared at Malric and waited for the punchline.

"We are not going to kill you quickly," Malric promised.

His voice dropped an octave and took on a cold sadistic edge.

"In the Zenith Protocol, pain receptors are dialed to one hundred percent. We have a dedicated squad of healers who are going to keep you alive.

We are going to chain-stun you. We are going to burn you, cut you, and break every digital bone in your body."

Malric drew his broadsword. The steel scraped loudly against the scabbard.

"We are going to torture you until you break," Malric stated.

"You are going to tell us exactly how you evolved your skills to Zenith-tier on day one. You are going to hand over all the boss loot you just vacuumed up. And you are going to give Vargas back the Blood Weeping sword."

Dante glanced at the [Crimson Edge] resting on his shoulder.

The Blood Weeping sword was its infamous nickname on the forums back in Aethelgard. This was due to the way the red metal seemed to bleed digital light when fully charged.

"Vargas wants his sword back?" Dante asked. He looked past Malric to the trembling rogue. "He did not exactly put up much of a fight for it the first time."

"I am going to rip it out of your dead hands!" Vargas shrieked. He finally snapped under the pressure.

"You are welcome to try," Dante said.

He lowered the blade.

He didn’t look up at the three hundred players on the ridges. He didn’t look at the wall of tower shields blocking the exit.

He just looked at Malric.

"You guys really love to talk," Dante said. His voice was completely devoid of fear.

"You talk about your numbers. You talk about your tactics. But you fundamentally misunderstand the game we are playing right now."

"Enlighten me," Malric sneered.

"You think this is a raid," Dante said and took a slow deliberate step forward. "You think you are the boss, and I am the solo player trapped in your arena."

Dante reached into his system menu and equipped the [Flame-Dash] skillbook he had looted just five minutes ago. The icon flared to life on his interface.

"You brought three hundred people to corner me," Dante said. A cold and dangerous smile spread across his face. "But all you really did was trap three hundred people in a canyon with me."

The eyes of Malric narrowed. He didn’t like the tone. He didn’t like the absolute lack of panic.

"Kill him!" Malric roared and slashed his sword downward. "Now!"

The command echoed across the canyon.

Up on the ridges, three hundred players moved in perfect unison. Bowstrings were pulled taut.

Magic circles flared to life in the hands of the casters. They illuminated the ash-choked sky in brilliant flashes of blue, red, and green light.

Dante didn’t raise his golden shield. He didn’t brace for impact.

He just looked at Malric.

"Let us see if that suppression scroll of yours actually works," Dante said.