[ Chapter 40: Deployment ]
**Day 1,186 (Evening).**
**Location: The Moon (Dark Side) – The Tungsten Spire.**
**Current Status: The Pivot Point.**
**Mood: Calculated Stress.**
There is a distinct difference between lifting a heavy object and holding it there. Lifting requires an explosion of force—a shout, a grunt, a momentary conquering of gravity. Holding, however, is an argument with physics that you eventually lose.
I sat cross-legged on the balcony of the Spire, hovering three inches off the obsidian floor. My eyes were closed, but I wasn't sleeping. I was seeing the universe through a grid of mana threads that extended forty thousand kilometers in every direction.
Above me, the Golden Shield rippled. It was a translucent dome of solidified will, separating the fragile blue marble of Earth from the vacuum of space and the several thousand warships currently trying to turn that marble into dust.
*Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.*
Every impact against the shield felt like a hammer striking a bell inside my skull. The Zorgon Armada wasn't firing indiscriminately anymore. They had synced their fire control systems. Ten thousand ion beams hitting the exact same coordinate at the exact same microsecond. They were trying to drill through.
"Drilling is rude," I murmured, opening one eye.
My mana reserves were fine. My regeneration rate, boosted by the daily compound interest, was essentially a vertical line on a graph. The problem wasn't fuel; it was bandwidth.
I was a supercomputer running a simulation called "Don't Let the Planet Die," and I was using 99% of my CPU to do it. If I moved, if I attacked, the shield would flicker. And in that flicker, Los Angeles would cease to exist.
"Zero," I projected, my voice sounding metallic in the thin atmosphere.
**[I am here, Architect.]** Zero materialized beside me. His digital avatar was flickering, his edges blurring into static. The sheer magical pressure I was emitting was interfering with his projection matrix.
"Status on the Zorgon fleet?"
**[They are adapting,]** Zero reported, pulling up a tactical map. The red dots of the enemy ships were shifting formation. **[They have realized that a direct bombardment is feeding your absorption matrix. They are deploying 'Leech Drones'.]**
I frowned. "Leech Drones?"
**[Phase-shifted parasites. They are designed to latch onto energy barriers and drain them rather than break them. If they attach to the shield, they will siphon your mana directly. It will be like a thousand mosquitoes drinking from an artery.]**
I looked up. Sure enough, small, dark specks were detaching from the massive dreadnoughts. They moved like ink in water, silent and fluid.
"I can't swat them," I said, frustration tightening my chest. "If I drop a hand to cast an offensive spell, the main cannons will punch a hole in the roof."
I was the ultimate shield, but I had no sword. I had sent my swords—Ren and Damon—to the surface to manage the ants. I needed something up here. Something automated.
I needed turrets.
"Zero," I said, a plan forming in the chaotic architecture of my mind. "How many active magic users are currently online on Earth?"
**[The panic has subsided into organized chaos. Current concurrent users: 482 million. Most are hiding in Safe Zones or staring at the sky.]**
"482 million," I repeated. "Almost half a billion batteries."
I stood up. The motion caused the shield to groan, the golden light intensifying as I readjusted my stance.
"I'm going to build a roof," I said. "But I need them to pay the rent."
"Zero, bring up the schematic for the **[Odin-Class Orbital Array]**."
Zero paused. **[Architect, the Odin Array is a theoretical construct. It requires a mana reservoir roughly the size of a small ocean. You cannot power the shield and the Array simultaneously. You will burnout.]**
"I'm not going to power it," I said, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "They are."
***
**The Great Construction**
The plan was audacious, dangerous, and exactly the kind of thing that would get me banned from any balanced MMORPG.
I needed to construct a series of magic circles—massive, complex runic formations—hovering in the Low Earth Orbit. These circles would act as lenses. They would take raw mana from the surface, focus it, amplify it, and fire it back out into space.
Planetary Defense Cannons. Made of light and math.
"Begin visualization," I commanded.
I raised my right hand, keeping my left palm flat against the invisible pressure of the shield.
I began to draw.
I didn't use ink. I used raw, golden Aether. I traced a line in the vacuum. A line ten miles long.
It started as a simple circle. Then, I bisected it. I added the runes for *Focus*, *Velocity*, and *Thermal Expansion*.
To the people on Earth, looking up through the golden dome, it must have looked like God was doodling with a laser pointer. A burning ring of fire ignited in the upper atmosphere above the Atlantic Ocean.
Then another above the Pacific. Another above Asia.
I wove the spellwork together, linking the runes into a cohesive grid. It was exhausting. It was like trying to paint a masterpiece while holding up a collapsing ceiling.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My bones creaked.
**[Warning: Biological Stress Levels at 85%.]**
**[Mana Output: Maximum.]**
"Hold together," I gritted out, forcing another rune into place. The structure was unstable. Without power, these were just pretty lights. They needed juice.
The Zorgon noticed.
**"ANOMALY DETECTED,"** the synthesized voice of the fleet boomed through the void. **"TARGET IS CONSTRUCTING OFFENSIVE PLATFORMS. DEPLOY INTERCEPTORS."**
The swarm of Leech Drones accelerated. Thousands of black, mechanical ticks rushed toward my shield. Behind them, sleek fighters banked, aiming for the unfinished circles of light I was drawing.
"They're trying to break the toys before I put the batteries in," I growled.
"Zero! Execute Update 4.1!"
**[Executing...]**
***
**Earth: The Call to Arms**
**Location: New York City, Central Park Safe Zone.**
**Player: Sarah (Level 14 Pyromancer).**
The sky was on fire. Not the bad kind of fire—well, mostly—but a strange, golden geometry that was burning itself into the heavens.
Sarah gripped her staff. Around her, thousands of other players were gathered in the park. The panic from the broadcast had faded, replaced by a tense, vibrating anticipation. They had seen the shield stop the lasers. They knew *He* was up there.
Suddenly, a chime rang out. Not just from Sarah's interface, but from everyone's. A synchronized bell toll that echoed through the city streets.
A blue box appeared, overriding her vision.
**[SYSTEM UPDATE 4.1: DEPLOYMENT]**
**[The Architect has established the Planetary Defense Grid.]**
**[Current Status: OFFLINE (0% Power).]**
**[The Shield protects you. The Grid avenges you.]**
**[NEW QUEST: THE SKY TITHES]**
**[Objective: Channel Mana into the Orbital Arrays.]**
**[Reward: Survival. +XP based on contribution.]**
**[Do you accept?]**
"Does it hurt?" someone asked nearby.
"Who cares?" a tank in heavy armor shouted. "Look at those things coming down!"
Through the golden shield, they could see the black swarms of drones descending like locusts.
Sarah didn't hesitate. She pressed **[YES]**.
Immediately, a new interface popped up. A simple slider bar.
**[MANA DONATION: 0% -> 100%]**
She slid it to max.
A beam of blue light shot out of her chest. It wasn't painful; it felt like exhaling a long breath. The beam shot straight up, passing through the skyscrapers, joining thousands—millions—of other beams ascending from the city.
It looked like the rapture of gravity. A forest of light growing upward.
***
**The Moon**
I felt the connection snap into place.
It started as a trickle. A few thousand daring souls pressing the button. Then, the realization spread. The streamers started shouting, the raid leaders started organizing, and the sheer human instinct to *shoot back* took over.
*Wham.*
The influx of mana hit the arrays.
It was staggering. 482 million players. Even if most were low-level, the sheer volume of mana was a tidal wave. It rushed into the runic circles I had drawn, filling them with blinding white power.
**[Array Status: Online.]**
**[Power Level: 120%.]**
**[Overcharge Detected.]**
"Perfect," I whispered, my eyes glowing with reflected starlight.
The Zorgon fighters were closing in on the arrays. The Leech Drones were latching onto my shield, beginning to drill.
I didn't need to hold the shield perfectly anymore. I had backup.
"Zero," I commanded. "Link the Arrays to the global HUD. Give the players targeting control."
**[Are you certain, Architect? You are giving civilians control of orbital weaponry.]**
"It's a shooter game now, Zero. Let them play."
***
**The Counter-Attack**
On Earth, the HUDs changed. The players who were channeling mana suddenly saw a second screen. A reticle. A view from the sky, looking down at the alien ships.
**[TARGET LOCK AVAILABLE.]**
In London, a guild of mages cheered. "Target that cruiser! The big one on the left!"
In Tokyo, a solo player grinned. "Boom."
**[FIRING SOLUTION CALCULATED.]**
The magic circles in the sky spun. The runes aligned.
*THOOM.*
It wasn't a laser. It was a lance of concentrated magical destruction.
From the array above the Atlantic, a beam of pure lightning the width of a city block erupted. It tore through the vacuum, instantly vaporizing a squadron of Zorgon fighters.
From the Pacific array, a barrage of fireballs—each the size of a stadium—launched upward, tracking the Leech Drones.
The sky became a light show.
The Zorgon fleet, which had been maneuvering with mathematical precision, was suddenly thrown into chaos. They had calculated the energy output of a single deity. They hadn't calculated the erratic, vengeful spite of a billion gamers.
A Zorgon frigate took a direct hit from the European Array. The beam punched through its void shields, melted its hull, and detonated the reactor core. A silent, expanding flower of orange fire bloomed against the stars.
"Got one!" I shouted on the moon, pumping a fist.
The feedback loop was working. The players gave mana. I shaped it. The Arrays fired. The players got XP. The dopamine hit made them give *more* mana.
It was the ultimate grind loop.
**[Zorgon Casualties: 14 Frigates, 300 Fighters, 1 Destroyer.]**
But the Zorgon weren't stupid. They were an empire that spanned galaxies.
**"THREAT LEVEL ELEVATED,"** the voice boomed. **"SWARM TACTICS INEFFECTIVE. DEPLOYING THE WORLD ENDER."**
The massive ships at the back of the fleet—the pyramid dreadnoughts—began to move. They separated, revealing a ship that dwarfed them all.
It was a sphere. A moon-sized mechanical eye.
"That's big," I noted, the thrill of the battle cooling into something sharper.
The sphere opened. In its center was a lens of dark matter. It wasn't aiming at the Earth. It was aiming at the Moon.
At me.
**[Energy Signature Detected: Planet-Cracker Class.]**
**[Charging Time: 3 Minutes.]**
"They're done playing with the shield," I realized. "They're going to blow up the anchor."
If they destroyed the Moon, the backlash would wipe out Earth. And currently, I was the only thing holding the Moon together.
I needed to disrupt that shot. But the Arrays were pointing the wrong way—they were defending Earth's orbit. They couldn't rotate fast enough to hit a target that far out.
I needed a sniper shot.
I looked at the debris of my fortress. I looked at the Tungsten shards of my throne.
"Zero. Can I teleport an object?"
**[Teleportation is restricted by the jamming field.]**
"I don't mean teleport *to* a place," I clarified. "I mean teleport *into* a place."
I reached into my Inventory.
I pulled out a single item. It was small, unassuming. A black dagger.
Not the **[Void Fangs]** I gave Ren. This was older. It was the **[Shard of Boredom]**. The very first weapon I had crafted on Day 1, made from a piece of rusty rebar I had imbued with my annoyance at the world.
It had a simple property: *It ignores durability.* It doesn't break. Ever.
"I'm going to throw this," I said.
**[Target distance: 400,000 kilometers. Target size: Thermal Exhaust Port. Probability of hit: Zero.]**
"Never tell a god the odds, Zero. It's cliché."
I stood up. I dropped the connection to the Arrays for a split second, letting the players handle the recoil.
I focused.
Day 1,186. My strength was incomprehensible.
I wound up my arm. I channeled the entirety of my physical stat block into my right shoulder. The muscles in my avatar screamed, fibres tearing and instantly knitting back together.
I aimed at the mechanical eye in the distance.
"Parry this," I grunted.
I threw the dagger.
*CRACK.*
The sound wasn't the dagger leaving my hand. It was the sound of the vacuum shattering. I threw the object with such force that it created a tunnel of superheated plasma through the nothingness of space.
The dagger flew at a relativistic percentage of the speed of light.
One second. Two seconds.
The Zorgon World Ender was charging. The dark matter lens was glowing purple.
Then, a spark.
The dagger hit the center of the lens. It was a speck of dust hitting a windshield at Mach 10,000.
The lens fractured. The containment field for the dark matter collapsed.
The energy that was meant to destroy the Moon had nowhere to go. So it went inward.
The World Ender crumpled. It imploded, folding in on itself like a crushed soda can, before exploding outward in a blinding shockwave of violet energy.
The dreadnoughts escorting it were caught in the blast. They were tossed aside like toys in a bathtub.
**[CRITICAL HIT.]**
**[Enemy Flagship Destroyed.]**
I stood on the balcony, panting. My right arm was hanging limp, steam rising from the skin. I had thrown it so hard I had fused the bones in my elbow.
"Regenerating," I hissed through clenched teeth.
The Zorgon fleet was in disarray. Their command ship was gone. Their drones were being picked off by the player-controlled Arrays.
**"LOGIC ERROR,"** the transmission crackled, sounding garbled. **"PARAMETERS EXCEEDED. TACTICAL RETREAT. REGORUP IN THE OORT CLOUD."**
The remaining ships turned. They didn't warp—the gravity well was too unstable. They burned engines, fleeing toward the edge of the solar system.
"They're running," I said, slumping down against the wall of the Spire.
The golden shield overhead flickered, then stabilized. The crisis was paused.
**[Victory Condition Met: Siege Broken.]**
**[Global XP Bonus Applied.]**
I closed my eyes, feeling the connection to the millions of players fade as the adrenaline wore off. The Arrays dimmed, going into standby mode.
"We did it," Zero said, sounding relieved.
"We survived the opening cutscene," I corrected him. "That wasn't the war. That was the tutorial."
I looked at my broken arm as it snapped back into place with a sickening crunch.
"Zero, scan the Moon's surface."
**[Scanning... Clear. No Zorgon life forms detected.]**
"Not Zorgon," I said softly.
I remembered the broken chess piece. The King with no head.
"Scan for a Guest."
Zero paused. The processing hum was long and deep.
**[...Scan complete. Anomaly detected.]**
My blood ran cold.
**[Location: The Crater of Silence. 50 kilometers North.]**
**[Signature: None. But there is a message.]**
"A message?"
**[Carved into the rock. Large enough to be seen from orbit if you look closely.]**
Zero projected the image onto my retina.
It was a drone shot of the lunar surface. There, in the grey dust, perfectly written in cursive handwriting that must have been carved by a laser or a very sharp finger, were words.
**"NICE THROW. NOW COME DOWNSTAIRS. THE REAL GAME IS ON EARTH."**
I stared at the message.
The Zorgon were a distraction. A loud, flashy, world-ending distraction. While I was playing hero on the Moon, holding the sky and building magic circles, Guest_01 had been on Earth.
And I had sent Ren and Damon right to him.
I stood up. The fatigue vanished, replaced by a cold, hard knot of dread.
"Zero," I said. "Keep the Arrays online. Automate the defense. If a Zorgon ship so much as sneezes, vaporize it."
**[Where are you going?]**
I walked to the edge of the balcony. I looked down at the beautiful, blue-and-green sphere of Earth. The place I had just saved. The place where the Spy was waiting.
"I'm going to make a server visit," I said.
I stepped off the edge.
I didn't float. I fell. I let the gravity of Earth take me. I turned myself into a meteor, burning gold and angry, streaking toward the atmosphere.
The Deployment was over. The Hunt had begun.
**[Day 1,186 Ends.]**
**[Zorgon Fleet Status: Rout.]**
**[Player Morale: Maximum.]**
**[Shigu's Mood: Livid.]**
[Chapter 40 Ends.]