Chapter 51: Crashing Economy (2)

"My vault!" a merchant screamed, tearing at his hair. "I had ten thousand coins invested in Level 10 leather! It’s worthless! The system just devalued it to copper prices! I’m ruined!"

"Who did this?!" a massive berserker roared, slamming his fist into a wooden stall, shattering it. "Who the hell is selling Level 45 Elite gear in a beginner zone?! How did they even get it?!"

"It’s him," a terrified voice answered from the back of the crowd. "It has to be. The Anonymous player. The one who killed the Zone Boss. He’s liquidating his drops."

The realization hit the crowd like a physical shockwave. The anonymous powerhouse wasn’t just a ghost hiding in the woods anymore. He was actively engaging with their world, and with a single transaction, he had casually, effortlessly annihilated the wealth and power structures that the top guilds had spent two weeks bleeding to build.

Three streets away, inside the fortified stone walls of the Crimson Dawn guild hall, the atmosphere was lethal.

The Crimson Dawn was one of the three largest factions in the Eastern Checkpoint. They had secured their dominance through ruthless efficiency, hoarding mid-tier resources and monopolizing the prime Level 12 hunting grounds. They ruled through economic strangulation.

The heavy double doors of the guild hall swung open, slamming against the stone walls with a deafening crash.

The frantic chatter of the panicked guild officers instantly ceased.

A man walked into the room. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in immaculate, deep-red plate armor that pulsed with a faint, suffocating heat. His face was sharp and aristocratic, his dark eyes burning with an intense, calculated fury.

This was Kaelen Vance. Guild Master of the Crimson Dawn.

And, until an hour ago, the highest-leveled player known to the Eastern Checkpoint.

[Player: Kaelen Vance]

[Level: 15]

[Role: Vanguard]

[Role Talent: Emperor’s Domain (SS)]

Level 15. It was a monumental achievement for a normal player on day thirteen. Kaelen had sacrificed hundreds of his own guild members to funnel experience and resources directly into his own progression, using his SS-Rank talent to dominate the battlefield.

He walked slowly toward the massive oak table in the center of the hall. His officers parted before him like water, their eyes cast downward in fear.

Kaelen didn’t yell. He didn’t scream. He simply let a fraction of his Emperor’s Domain bleed into the room.

The air instantly grew heavy. The gravity in the hall seemed to double. The sheer, overwhelming aura of a Level 15 Vanguard with an SS-Rank talent pressed down on the officers, forcing several of the weaker players to their knees, gasping for breath.

"Report," Kaelen commanded, his voice cold, carrying the absolute authority of a man accustomed to blind obedience.

His lead quartermaster, a pale, sweating man holding a glowing system ledger, forced himself to speak through the crushing pressure.

"Guild Master... the market. It’s gone. Our entire stockpile of Level 10 to 15 equipment, the materials we gathered from the Hollows... the system has devalued all of it by ninety-five percent."

"Explain," Kaelen said softly.

"Someone... someone dumped commercial quantities of Adept-tier biologicals into the Gilded Anchor. Level 35 to Level 50 Elite monster parts. Hundreds of them. The system algorithm adjusted the regional baseline. Everything we own is now classified as obsolete starter gear. We have no economic leverage left."

Kaelen slowly closed his eyes. The pressure in the room spiked, the heavy oak table groaning under the invisible weight of his fury.

He had spent thirteen days meticulously building an empire. He had carefully manipulated supply lines, consolidated power, and positioned himself to be the absolute ruler of Sector 4 by the time the 100-day cycle ended. He had the highest level. He had the best talent. He was the undisputed apex predator of the beginner zone.

And then the system announcement happened. The Sovereign of the Ash has fallen.

Someone had killed a Level 30 Boss.

Kaelen had tried to rationalize it. He had convinced himself it was a fluke. A massive, suicidal raid by an unknown group who had somehow managed to cheese the boss mechanics through sheer luck.

But this... this was different. You didn’t harvest hundreds of Level 40 and 50 Elite materials through a fluke. You did it through absolute, overwhelming slaughter.

This "Anonymous" player wasn’t just stronger than Kaelen. He was operating in a tier of existence that fundamentally broke the rules of Eternal Heaven. He was a walking cataclysm that didn’t care about guild politics, monopolies, or carefully laid plans. By simply emptying his pockets, he had destroyed Kaelen’s empire.

Kaelen opened his eyes. The dark, calculated fury was fully locked into focus.

"Order a full lockdown of our remaining assets," Kaelen said, his voice echoing in the silent hall. "Recall all hunting parties. Put a bounty on the tracking boards. I want every scrying class, every tracker, and every shadow-walker in the checkpoint mobilized."

"Guild Master," the quartermaster stammered. "A bounty? But... if this player can farm Level 50 Elites... what can we possibly do if we find him?"

Kaelen’s gaze snapped to the quartermaster, the Emperor’s Domain crashing down on the man, driving him flat against the stone floor.

"We don’t fight him in the woods," Kaelen said coldly. "We find out who he is. We find out where he sleeps. We find out if he has allies, or weaknesses, or blind spots. Power like that cannot be allowed to operate unchecked in my sector. This anomaly threatens the order. He must be stopped, or none of us will survive the cycle on our own terms."

Kaelen looked toward the heavy double doors, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Find him."

Half a mile away, in the serene, magically insulated luxury of the Lotus Rest Imperial Suite, Leon Wes sat cross-legged on the tatami mats, completely oblivious to the panic, the fury, and the bounties being placed on his head.

He was currently focused on a far more pressing matter.

Resting on the low bamboo table in front of him was a massive, three-tiered dark chocolate cake, meticulously frosted with sweet, mana-infused buttercream, completely untouched.

Leon picked up a silver fork, a genuine, content smile spreading across his face.

"Perfect," he whispered, and dug in.