**Chapter 17: System Update 2.0**
**Day 1,135.**
**Location: The Dark Side of the Moon.**
**Atmosphere: None.**
**Current Activity: Landscaping.**
Dust doesn't behave correctly in a vacuum. On Earth, when you strike the ground, the debris billows, carried by the air. On the Moon, it behaves like shrapnel. It explodes outward in perfect ballistic arcs, settling only when gravity—weak as it is—reminds it to fall.
I stood in the center of the Tycho Crater. Above me, the Milky Way stretched out in a band of diamond dust, unpolluted by atmosphere or light. Below me, the grey regolith felt like powder.
"Zero," I projected my thought, the signal bouncing off a relay satellite I had casually flicked into orbit three hours ago. "Status on the Earth-side patch?"
**[Upload in progress,]** Zero replied, his voice clear in my mind. **[The government confiscation efforts have ceased, largely because their agents are terrified of the 'Sovereign Immunity' protocols. However, Director Miller is attempting a legislative workaround. He is trying to draft the users into national service.]**
"Let him try," I murmured. "But I need to make sure the hardware is secure. If a soldier dies, I don't want the Pentagon reverse-engineering his headset."
I raised my foot and brought it down.
It wasn't a stomp. It was a calculated release of kinetic energy.
The lunar surface rippled. A fissure opened up, running five miles long and a hundred meters deep. It was the first trench of the defensive line I was building. If the Myriad wanted Earth, they would have to go through the Moon first. I intended to turn this dead rock into a fortress.
"Initiate the DNA Binding Protocol," I commanded. "And roll out the Class Change update. They've been stuck at 'Tier 1' long enough. If they're going to fight in this environment..."
I looked around the desolate, airless crater.
"...they need to stop being human."
***
**The Pentagon. Deep Storage Facility.**
Director Miller stood over the examination table. On it sat a Silver Visor. It had belonged to a civilian who panicked and surrendered it before the Sovereign Immunity patch went live.
"We have it," Miller said, his voice tight. "It's not attached to a host. It's not fighting back. Crack it open."
Dr. Thorne hesitated, holding the laser cutter. "Sir, the System... it adapts. The last time we tried this—"
"Just do it, Doctor. We need to know how the signal propagation works before the alien fleet arrives."
Thorne nodded, sweating. He lowered the laser.
*ZZZT.*
The beam touched the silver casing.
Instantly, the headset flared. But it didn't explode this time. It didn't melt.
A holographic projection shot out of the band, hovering in the air. It was a strand of DNA, twisting in a double helix.
**[System Update 2.0 Installed.]**
**[Biometric Scan: Negative.]**
**[User Mismatch.]**
The device began to vibrate. Not violently, but with a high-frequency hum that set Miller's teeth on edge.
"What is it doing?" Miller demanded.
**[Security Protocol 'Dead Man's Switch' Active.]**
**[Hardware is now biologically fused to the registered User ID: 89402.]**
**[Foreign DNA detected. Initiating molecular dissolution.]**
"It's wiping itself!" Thorne yelled, backing away.
The silver metal turned grey. It lost its sheen. Then, it simply crumbled. It didn't turn into a gas; it turned into sand. A pile of inert, non-conductive silicon dust.
Miller stared at the pile of sand. He scooped a handful up. It slipped through his fingers.
"It bricked itself," Miller whispered. "He remotely bricked it."
"It's worse than that, Sir," Thorne said, looking at his tablet which was monitoring the global System feed. "Look at the patch notes."
Miller looked.
**[Patch Note 2.0: The Bond of Blood.]**
**[All Order of Truth interfaces are now genetically locked to the user. Removal is impossible without user consent or death. Upon death, the device decomposes.]**
**[Reason: Equipment Security.]**
"He just made them useless to us," Miller realized, sinking into a chair. "We can't confiscate them. We can't study them. We can't even loot them off the dead."
"He's forcing us to work with the people," Thorne said quietly. "We can't possess the power, Director. We can only ally with it."
Miller closed his eyes. The headache that had started the day the Mana Break occurred was now a permanent resident behind his eyes.
"Get me the President," Miller said. "And get me a meeting with the Guild Leaders. We're done trying to steal the car. It's time to hire the drivers."
***
**The Real World: Tokyo.**
**Ren's Apartment.**
Ren felt the update hit him physically.
It wasn't like the previous notifications, which were visual or auditory. This felt like a shiver running through his bone marrow. The Black Box around his neck grew warm, then cold, then vanished entirely from his sensory perception.
He reached up to touch it. It was still there, physical and solid, but it felt... indistinguishable from his skin. It felt like another organ.
**[System Update 2.0 Complete.]**
**[Genetic Binding: 100%.]**
**[The Interface is now part of your biology.]**
Ren walked to the mirror. He pulled the collar of his shirt down.
The metal band of the headset seemed to have sunk slightly into his flesh, not in a painful way, but as if his skin had grown to accommodate it. The violet light pulsed in time with the carotid artery in his neck.
"We're really not playing a game anymore," Ren whispered.
A new window popped up. It was gold, intricate, bordered with shifting runes that hurt his eyes if he looked at them too long.
**[Congratulations, Player Ren.]**
**[You have reached Level 30.]**
**[The Tutorial Classes are insufficient for the coming war.]**
**[Class Ascension Available.]**
Ren's heart hammered. He sat down at his desk.
His current class was *Strider*. It was a mobility class—fast, stealthy, fragile. It relied on daggers and dodging.
The screen presented him with three paths.
**Path 1: The Phantom Edge.**
*Focus: Critical Strikes and Stealth.*
*Description: You become the knife in the dark. Enhanced damage against single targets. Ability to turn invisible for extended periods.*
**Path 2: The Wind Walker.**
*Focus: Speed and Evasion.*
*Description: You are untouchable. Friction ceases to apply to you. You can run on water, air, and vertical surfaces.*
**Path 3: The Void Walker.**
*Focus: Spacetime Manipulation.*
*Description: You do not just move through the world; you step between the frames of reality. Phase shifting, short-range teleportation, and the ability to store kinetic energy in pocket dimensions.*
*Requirement: Must have survived a 'Near-Death' experience involving System Overload.*
Ren looked at the third option.
*Void Walker.*
It reminded him of the fight with the Deep Sea King. The way he had channeled the overload. The way the Architect moved—phasing through attacks, ignoring the laws of physics.
"Stealth is hiding," Ren murmured. "Speed is running. But the Void..."
The Void was control.
He selected the third option.
**[Class Ascension Confirmed.]**
**[Evolving...]**
Pain—familiar and electric—shot through him. But this time, it didn't feel like damage. It felt like stretching. He looked at his hand. For a second, his fingers flickered. They became translucent, then solid again.
He stood up. He focused on the wall across the room.
*Step.*
He didn't walk. He didn't run. The space between him and the wall simply folded. One moment he was by the desk; the next, he was by the window. No motion blur. No wind. Just instantaneous displacement.
"Blink," Ren whispered, grinning.
He looked out at the Tokyo skyline. The purple spires of the dungeons were glowing.
"I can go anywhere."
***
**The Real World: Los Angeles.**
**The Crimson Citadel (Formerly the Staples Center).**
Damon—*BloodLetter*—sat on a throne made of welded scrap metal and monster bones. The Crimson Blades had fully occupied the arena, turning it into their guild hall.
He looked at the update screen floating before him.
**[Class Ascension Available.]**
Damon was a *Berserker*. He hit things hard, and he got stronger when he bled. It was simple. It was effective.
But the new options were tempting.
**Path 1: Titan.** (Tank focus, massive armor).
**Path 2: Slayer.** (Weapon mastery, pure DPS).
**Path 3: Blood Reaver.**
Damon read the description for the Reaver.
*Description: You are a vampiric engine of war. Damage dealt is returned as health. You can manipulate your own blood to form weapons. You feed on the vitality of your enemies.*
*Unique Skill: Hemorrhage Aura (Enemies near you bleed continuously).*
Damon laughed. It was a guttural sound that echoed in the empty arena.
"Why use potions," Damon said, selecting the option, "when I can just drink the enemy?"
A red aura exploded from his body, cracking the concrete floor beneath his throne. His eyes turned a deep, crimson red. The veins in his arms blackened.
He stood up, feeling the hunger. It was a deep, gnawing emptiness that demanded conflict.
"Blades!" Damon roared, his voice amplified by the System. "Form up! We're hitting the Level 35 Dungeon tonight. I need to feed!"
***
**The Real World: London.**
**Sanctuary Triage Center.**
Elena was washing her hands. They were stained with blood—real blood, not digital code. The update had hit right in the middle of a surgery. A young Vanguard had been gored by a Minotaur in the "Labyrinth of Stone" dungeon, and his real-world body had manifested the wound.
She dried her hands and looked at the golden screen.
**[Class Ascension Available.]**
She skipped the offensive options. She skipped the "Battle Cleric" path. She looked at the final option.
**Path 3: Celestial Oracle.**
*Focus: Mass Mitigation and Prediction.*
*Description: You are the anchor. You can heal multiple targets simultaneously. You can foresee enemy attacks seconds before they happen. You grant the 'Hope' buff, which prevents True Death for a short duration.*
*Prevents True Death.*
Elena stopped breathing.
That was it. That was the game-changer. If she could stop the permanent deletion of avatars—stop the comas, the trauma—she could save them all.
She pressed the button.
A pillar of white light descended through the ceiling of the hospital, ignoring the roof, illuminating the triage ward. The patients groaned as the light touched them, their wounds knitting together faster than before.
Elena's eyes glowed with a soft, white luminescence. She looked at the Vanguard on the table.
She didn't see his body. She saw his timeline. She saw the moment the Minotaur struck. And she saw the moment he would wake up.
"You're going to be okay," Elena whispered, placing a hand on his forehead. "The Saintess is watching."
***
**The Atacama Facility.**
I watched the data streams shift.
The Tithes were changing flavor again.
Before, the energy coming back to me was raw—fueled by adrenaline and basic effort. Now, it was complex.
From Ren, I received energy that tasted of *space* and *displacement*.
From Damon, energy that tasted of *vitality* and *iron*.
From Elena, energy that tasted of *light* and *preservation*.
The players were specializing. They were becoming components of a greater machine.
**[Daily Growth: +10%.]**
**[Tithes Bonus: +0.02%.]**
**[Synergy Bonus Active.]**
"It is working," Zero stated. "The specialized classes are interacting. The efficiency of the dungeon clears has increased by 40% in the last hour."
"Good," I said. "Because the Myriad won't be fighting them one on one."
I turned away from the Earth monitor and looked back at the Moon.
The trench was finished. But a trench needs guns.
"Zero, how much Star Metal have the players mined?"
**[Global reserves are at 40 tons. Most of it is being hoarded by the Crimson Blades.]**
"Damon is predictable," I sighed. "He thinks he can build a sword big enough to cut a spaceship."
I walked to the Forge.
"I need to give them a blueprint. If they forge swords, they die. They need to forge *batteries*."
"Batteries?"
"The Star Metal resonates with Prana," I explained, picking up a shard of the glowing, iridescent ore. "It captures the overflow. If I can teach them to build Pylons... we can turn the entire planet into a defensive grid."
I sat down at the console and began to code.
**[New Quest: The Planetary Shield.]**
**[Objective: Construct Prana Pylons at the following coordinates...]**
**[Reward: Blueprint for 'Sky-Killer' Turrets.]**
I sent the quest.
Then, I looked at the countdown.
**[Time Until Contact: 35 Days.]**
"System Update 2.0 is live," I said, watching the Moon's surface where I had carved my name into the dust—not out of vanity, but as a warning. "Now, let's see if they can survive the stress test."
I closed my eyes and reached out through the connection, finding Ren's signature. It was flickering, phasing in and out of reality.
"Get used to the Void, Ren," I whispered across the distance. "Because that's where the enemy lives."
**[Day 1,135 Ends.]**
The board was set. The pieces were upgraded. The King was waiting on the dark side of the moon.
And the insects were coming to dinner.