**Chapter 11: Expansion Phase**
**Day 1,112.**
**Current Status: Global Administrator.**
**Daily Growth: +10% (Base) / +0.004% (Tithes).**
The end of the world didn't look like fire and brimstone. It looked like a user interface update.
I sat in the Atacama facility, watching the monitors that lined the walls of the War Room. The Sarcophagus suit was disengaged, resting in the corner like a discarded metal husk. I didn't need it right now. The feedback loop—the "Tithes" flowing from the awakened players—had created a buffer of stabilized reality around me. I was still a nuclear bomb of existence, but at least now I had a safety switch.
On the screens, the world was panicking.
It had been one week since the Mana Break. One week since I forced the two realities—Earth and Aethelgard—to kiss.
The results were spectacular.
In New York, a dungeon entrance in the shape of a gothic cathedral spire had erupted in the middle of Central Park. It was designated "The Crypt of the Restless." The NYPD had cordoned it off, but that didn't stop the skeletons from wandering out at night to rattle the fences.
In London, the Thames had turned a vibrant, glowing violet. Water Elementals were washing up on the banks, confused and aggressive.
And in Tokyo, the Shibuya Crossing was now the foyer for the "Rat King's Sewers."
"The integration is stabilizing," Zero reported. The AI's avatar walked through the air, inspecting the data streams. "However, the geopolitical response is... aggressive."
"Define aggressive," I said, spinning a tungsten pen between my fingers.
"The United Nations has declared the Order of Truth a global terrorist organization. The United States has invoked the Insurrection Act. China has quarantined the Shanghai Gaming District."
I snorted. "They're trying to ban the tide."
"They are frightened, Architect. You handed superpowers to the disenfranchised. You gave magic to teenagers and invalids. The monopoly on violence has shifted."
I looked at the feed from Tokyo. The Japanese Self-Defense Forces were lined up outside the Shibuya dungeon with tanks. They looked impressive. They looked ready.
But I knew the math. A tank shell was physical damage. The Rat King had a 90% resistance to non-magical projectiles. They were bringing a hammer to a ghost fight.
"They need more soldiers," I muttered. "The Alpha Cohort is doing good work, but there are only a hundred of them. Ren can't be everywhere. Maya can't be everywhere."
I stood up. The floor plates didn't creak. I was getting better at this—at being small.
"It's time for the Expansion Phase," I announced.
"We are currently manufacturing the standard headsets at maximum capacity," Zero reminded me. "The automated factories in Shenzhen and Taiwan—which we covertly commandeered—are producing 50,000 units a day."
"Plastic toys," I dismissed. "Those are for the casuals. They rely on the smartphone app to bridge the connection. The latency is too high for real dungeon diving. If I send a kid into the Crypt with a smartphone VR headset, he's going to lag out and get eaten by a ghoul."
I walked toward the Forge.
"I need lieutenants. I need a middle management class."
I looked at the pile of raw materials I had gathered during my last Slipstream run. Mountains of silver, palladium, and telecommunications-grade fiber optics.
"The Black Boxes were the Gold Tier," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "One hundred kings."
I plunged my hands into the pile of silver.
"Now, let's make ten thousand knights."
***
**The Pentagon. Deep Storage Facility 9.**
The room was colder than a morgue and twice as sterile.
Director Miller stood behind a pane of blast-proof glass, watching the team of engineers working on the table. In the center of the room, clamped down by hydraulic vices, sat a Black Box.
It was one of the three the US government had managed to confiscate. This one had belonged to a young man in Detroit who had tried to stop a bank robbery with his newfound 'Brawler' class abilities and caught a stray bullet in the leg. The government had swooped in before the ambulance arrived.
"Report," Miller barked into the intercom.
Dr. Aris Thorne looked up, his face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. He was holding a laser cutter that looked like it cost more than Miller's house.
"It defies analysis, Director," Thorne said, his voice trembling slightly. "We've tried diamond saws, laser ablation, and acid baths. We can't scratch the casing."
"It's metal, isn't it?" Miller asked. "It has to have a melting point."
"Spectroscopy suggests it's an alloy of lead and gold, but the molecular lattice is... wrong. It's too dense. The atoms are packed closer together than physics should allow. It's like the material was forged in the heart of a collapsing star."
Miller grit his teeth. "Open it, Doctor. I don't care if you have to use a tactical nuke. I need to know where the signal is coming from."
Thorne sighed. "Proceeding with the high-frequency resonance drill."
The engineer activated the machine. A diamond-tipped drill bit, vibrating at ultrasonic speeds, lowered toward the sleek black surface of the headset.
*SCREEEEE.*
The sound was agonizing. Sparks flew.
Then, the Black Box reacted.
It didn't break. It didn't dent.
It pulsed. A violet light flared from the seam of the device.
**[Tamper Protocol Initiated.]**
**[Unauthorized Access Detected.]**
The voice came from the box itself. It wasn't a speaker; the metal itself vibrated to produce the sound.
"Pull back!" Thorne yelled.
Too late.
The Black Box didn't explode. It simply... ceased to be solid. It dissolved into a puddle of grey sludge that hissed and evaporated into odorless gas.
The engineers coughed, waving the smoke away.
The vice clamped onto nothing.
Miller slammed his fist against the glass. "God damn it! That's the third one!"
"It's self-destructing at the molecular level," Thorne said, staring at the empty table. "There's no circuit boards, Director. No chips. No battery. We scanned it before it melted. It was just a solid block of metal acting as a receiver."
"Receiving from where?"
"Everywhere," Thorne whispered. "The signal isn't directional. It's ambient. It's in the atmosphere now. Whoever built these... they didn't just build a radio. They changed the air."
Miller turned away from the glass. He felt a headache building behind his eyes—a pressure that had been there since the Mana Break.
"Manufacturing," Miller said. "Find the factory. Someone is making these things. You can't 3D print hyper-dense alloys in a garage. I want satellite sweeps of every industrial sector on the planet. Look for heat signatures. Look for resource anomalies."
"We have looked, sir," an aide said, stepping out of the shadows. "There's no supply chain. No shipping manifests. These devices just... appear."
"Things don't just appear!" Miller shouted.
But as he looked at the satellite feed on the wall—showing the glowing purple spire in Central Park—he knew he was wrong.
In this new world, things appeared all the time.
***
**The Forge. Atacama Facility.**
My hands were a blur.
Creating the Black Boxes had been an act of art—sculpting each one individually, pouring specific intent into the mold. Creating the Silver Tier headsets was an act of industry.
I worked in a trance state. My mind, split between the physical task and the management of the global System, hummed with efficiency.
*Grab silver. Grab palladium. Fuse. Compress. Shape.*
The resulting headsets were sleek, metallic silver bands. They were lighter than the Black Boxes, less ominous. They didn't have the neural-invasive spikes; instead, they used high-sensitivity conductive pads that rested against the skin.
**[Item Created: Visor of the Initiate (Silver Tier)]**
**[Capacity: 60% Neural Sync]**
**[Pain Dampener: Fixed at 20%]**
**[Special Effect: Mana Sight (Allows user to see System overlays in reality without the headset for short durations).]**
"Batch 400 complete," I murmured.
The pile of silver headsets was growing.
"Zero, logistics."
**[The drone fleet is ready,]** Zero responded.
I had repurposed a few thousand delivery drones from an Amazon warehouse in Brazil (they wouldn't miss them; I adjusted their inventory database to show them as 'lost in transit'). I had upgraded their motors with simple gravitational enchantments, allowing them to fly silent and fast.
"Load them up," I ordered. "Target criteria for the Silver Tier?"
**[Criteria adjusted. Targeting: First Responders, Veterans, Athletes, and High-Ranking Gamers from the initial mobile app rollout. We need competence on the front lines.]**
"Good. The Black Boxes were for the desperate. The Silver Visors are for the disciplined."
I watched the drones swarm into the cavern, picking up the headsets with mechanical claws. They looked like a hive of metallic insects.
"Go," I commanded.
The swarm surged up the elevator shaft, bursting out into the desert night. They scattered in all directions, streaks of silver against the stars.
"Ten thousand reinforcements," I said, wiping metal dust from my hands. "Let's see if the government can confiscate them all."
I checked the System clock.
**Day 1,112. 14:00 Hours.**
"Zero, pull up the Tokyo feed. The raid is starting."
***
**Tokyo. Shibuya Crossing.**
The air smelled of ozone and wet fur.
Ren stood at the police barricade. He wasn't wearing his hospital gown anymore. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, but over them, he wore the leather cuirass he had looted from the Tower. It had manifested into reality when he equipped it—a feature of the Mana Break that still freaked people out.
He had his Black Box around his neck like headphones. He didn't need to wear it to see the HUD anymore; his synchronization rate was high enough that the blue boxes floated in his natural vision.
**[Zone: Rat King's Lair (Entrance)]**
**[Corruption Level: Rising]**
"You can't go in there, kid," a JSDF soldier barked, holding up a rifle. "This is a restricted zone. We have a tactical team prepping for entry."
Ren looked at the "tactical team." They were brave men, certainly. But they were carrying assault rifles and wearing Kevlar.
"Bullets don't work on the elites," Ren said calmly. "The Rat King summons Swarmers. They have a physical damage reduction of 80%."
The soldier blinked. "What are you talking about? Go home."
Ren sighed. "I can't go home. My home is being invaded by giant rats."
A scream cut through the air.
From the gaping maw of the subway station entrance—now choked with glowing purple vines and black stone—something emerged.
It was the size of a minivan. A rat, but twisted. Its fur was matted spikes of iron. Its eyes burned green.
**[Enemy: Iron-Hide Rat (Level 8)]**
The soldiers opened fire.
*Dak-dak-dak-dak.*
Sparks flew off the rat's fur. It didn't even flinch. It let out a screech that shattered the windows of the nearby Starbucks and charged.
The line of soldiers broke. Panic ensued.
Ren didn't panic. He felt that familiar heat in his spine. The Prana.
"System," he whispered. "Equip Twin Fangs."
A flash of blue light. Two daggers materialized in his hands.
He moved.
To the soldiers, he was a blur. One second he was standing by the barricade; the next, he was in the air, leaping over the hood of a transport truck.
He landed on the rat's back.
"Strike!" Ren shouted.
He drove the daggers into the base of the rat's skull. The magic-infused steel bit through the iron hide like butter. Electricity arced from the blades—the **[Minor Shock]** effect.
The rat convulsed. Ren rode it like a rodeo cowboy, stabbing again and again.
With a final, gargling screech, the monster collapsed, dissolving into black smoke and a pile of loot coins.
Ren stood in the smoke, breathing hard. He spun the daggers in his hands.
Silence fell over the crossing. The soldiers stared at him. The civilians recording from the skyscrapers stared.
Ren looked at the soldier who had told him to go home.
"Your guns are noisy," Ren said. "But they don't have DPS."
Suddenly, a hum filled the air.
High above the crossing, a silver drone descended. It wasn't looking for Ren. It was looking for the soldier—the squad leader.
The drone hovered in front of the stunned man. A mechanical claw extended, holding a sleek silver headset.
**[Candidate Identified: Captain Sato.]**
**[Trait: Leadership.]**
**[Will you accept the Truth?]**
The voice came from the drone.
Captain Sato looked at the headset. He looked at Ren, the boy who had just killed a monster with knives. He looked at his own useless rifle.
Slowly, Captain Sato reached out and took the Silver Visor.
"Put it on," Ren encouraged, grinning. "The tutorial sucks, but the loot is great."
Around the world, the scene repeated.
In New York, a firefighter trapped in a burning building found a drone hovering outside the window, offering him the power to walk through flames.
In London, a paramedic trying to save a drowning victim from a Water Elemental was handed a visor that granted water breathing.
The Order of Truth wasn't recruiting terrorists. It was recruiting heroes.
***
**The Atacama Facility.**
I watched the connection counter on the main screen.
**[Active Users: 50,000]**
**[... 55,000]**
**[... 60,000]**
The Silver Visors were coming online.
And with them, the energy.
*Thrum.*
I felt it. It was heavier than before. The Black Boxes gave me refined, high-quality energy. The Silver Visors were transmitting a rougher, grittier current, but the volume... the volume was immense.
**[Daily Growth Triggered.]**
**[Tithes Multiplier Active.]**
**[Total Energy Output: Exceeding Containment Parameters.]**
The lights in the facility flickered. The cooling pumps screamed.
"Architect!" Zero warned. "The influx is too fast. The Tithes are causing a resonance cascade in your biological field. You need to vent the energy."
I stood there, feeling like a balloon about to pop. My skin glowed with blinding white light. The air around me began to ionize.
"I can't vent it into the Tower," I gritted out. "It's full."
"Then expand the world," Zero suggested. "Create more content. Make the container bigger."
I closed my eyes. I reached out with my mind, grabbing the excess energy that was threatening to tear my facility apart.
"Fine," I roared. "They want an expansion? I'll give them an expansion."
I visualized the map of Aethelgard. I visualized the oceans.
"Rise," I commanded.
Deep in the virtual code, and simultaneously in the tectonic reality of the Pacific Ocean, something shifted.
"System. Generate New Continent: The Shattered Isles."
**[Warning: Massive Geological Event Detected.]**
**[Energy Expenditure: 400 Petajoules.]**
The pressure in my chest eased as the energy poured out of me, flowing into the creation of a new landmass.
I opened my eyes, gasping for air. The facility stopped shaking.
"That was close," I whispered.
"You have successfully stabilized," Zero reported. "And... the player base is reacting well to the new patch notes."
I laughed weakly. I walked to the window—the one that looked out into the cavern.
Ten thousand new soldiers. A global network of dungeoneers. Governments scrambling to catch up to the new reality I had imposed on them.
The "Order of Truth" was no longer an urban legend. It was the new world order.
"Shigu," I said to myself, looking at my reflection in the dark glass. "You wanted entertainment. Now you have a war."
I picked up the tablet.
"Zero, open a channel to Ren. And send a message to Director Miller at the Pentagon."
"What message?"
"Tell him," I smiled, "that if he wants to manufacture the headsets, he needs to level up his Crafting skill first. And tell Ren... he's leading the raid on the Rat King tonight."
**Chapter 11: Expansion Phase**