Elian woke up to the smell of antiseptic and expensive coffee.
He wasn't in his shipping container. He was lying in a bed that felt like a cloud, surrounded by beeping machines. A tube ran into his arm, pumping a glowing blue liquid into his veins.
[Status: Recovering][Mana Restoration: 100%][Fatigue: 80%]
He sat up, wincing. His mana channels felt raw, like he had swallowed a cactus. Overclocking his Edit Mode to build a railgun and a catapult in ten seconds had nearly burned out his nervous system.
Easy, Kaelen's voice drifted in. That is High-Grade Mana Saline. 500 credits a bag. Drink it up.
Where am I? Elian croaked.
Sector 1. The Azure Abyss Medical Center. You've been out for twelve hours.
Elian ripped the IV out of his arm. The puncture wound healed instantly a perk of his high Vitality stat.
He walked to the window. The view was breathtaking. Sector 1 was a city of glass and light, protected by a massive, shimmering energy dome that kept out the acid rain. Hover-cars zipped between skyscrapers that pierced the clouds. Below, pristine parks were filled with people wearing clean clothes, walking pets that weren't mutated rats.
"It's a different planet," Elian whispered. "Ten miles away, people are eating synthetic paste in the mud."
The Guilds hoard the resources, Kaelen said, his voice laced with bitterness. They keep the Safe Zones safe for the rich, and leave the Outer Rings to rot. That was what I tried to change.
"And you died for it," Elian reminded him. "I intend to enjoy the view."
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Three people walked in. They didn't knock. They didn't have to. The air pressure in the room seemed to drop, crushed by the sheer weight of their auras.
On the left: General Ironwood of the Crimson Dawn. A giant of a man in red power-armor, scar tissue covering half his face. He smelled of gun oil and blood. [Level: 55 - Class: Warlord]
On the right: Lady Rose of the Blood-Rose. The woman Sera answered to. She wore an elegant evening gown that looked like it was woven from shadows. Her eyes were cold, calculating amethysts. [Level: 52 - Class: Night Mother]
In the center: Sterling of the Azure Abyss. He wore a sharp business suit, his blue hair slicked back. He looked like a CEO, but his mana signature felt like a tsunami. [Level: 54 - Class: Hydro-Dominator]
"Mr. Vance," Sterling smiled. It was a perfect, practiced smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living."
Elian stood by the window, wearing only a hospital gown. He felt naked in front of these titans. Any one of them could kill him with a thought.
Am I under arrest? Elian asked.
For what? Ironwood grunted, crossing his massive arms. For turning a Cultist into a firework? No, boy. You're a hero. The media is eating it up. ' The Architect of the Arena'.
Then why are you here?
To make an offer, Lady Rose said, her voice silky and dangerous. She stepped forward, placing a tablet on the bedside table. "The Blood-Rose values ingenuity. Your trap placement... your ruthlessness... it fits us. Join us. Signing bonus is five million credits and a penthouse in Sector 1."
Five million. Elian's heart hammered. That was enough to retire.
"Pocket change," Sterling interrupted smoothly. "The Azure Abyss offers ten million. Plus, access to our exclusive Dungeons and the crafting materials you clearly need for your... gadgets."
Soft, Ironwood spat. Crimson Dawn doesn't offer money. We offer power. You join my vanguard, Vance. I'll make you a Commander in a year. You'll lead raids. You'll conquer zones. You'll be a king, not a merchant.
Elian looked at them. The Soldier, the Spy, and the CEO. They controlled the world. They were the reason the System integration hadn't wiped out humanity—and the reason humanity was stagnant.
They don't want you, Kaelen warned. They want to control you. If you join, they will bind you with a Soul Contract. You will never be able to leave.
Elian picked up the tablet Lady Rose had left. He scrolled through the "Standard Contract." It was filled with legal jargon. Clause 8a: All loot obtained belongs to the Guild.Clause 12b: The Guild holds the right to mandatory conscription in times of Crisis.Clause 99: Soul-Binding prevents betrayal.
It was slavery with a golden collar.
Elian set the tablet down.
"I'm flattered," Elian lied. "Truly. But I'm going to decline."
The room went cold. Sterling's smile didn't waver, but his eyes hardened. "Declining? Mr. Vance, perhaps you are suffering from brain damage. An independent Hunter in Sector 1 is... vulnerable."
"Is that a threat?" Elian asked.
"It's a fact," Lady Rose purred. "Taxes. Zoning laws. Dungeon permits. The Guilds control the bureaucracy. Without a flag on your back, you can't even buy a mana potion legally in this sector."
"I'll take my chances," Elian said.
Ironwood stepped forward, looming over Elian. "You think you're special because you built a cannon? Boy, I have mages who can level a mountain. You are a Level 11 gimmick. Don't let your ego write checks your body can't cash."
"I'm not special," Elian agreed, looking up at the Warlord. "But I am the Tournament Champion. And according to System Law, the Champion is granted a Guild Charter."
The three Masters froze.
The Guild Charter. It was the rarest prize in the tournament. It allowed a player to start their own Guild, granting them legal immunity from the "Big Three's" monopoly. It allowed them to buy land, trade tax-free, and enter dungeons without a permit.
Usually, the Champion sells the Charter to one of the Big Three for a fortune. They assumed Elian would do the same.
"You intend to keep it?" Sterling asked, his voice losing its warmth. "A one-man Guild? You'll be crushed. Economically, if not physically."
"We'll see," Elian said.
Sterling stared at him for a long moment. Then, he chuckled. "Very well. The Azure Abyss withdraws its offer. But be warned, Elian Vance. The shark tank is hungry. And you are bleeding."
Sterling turned and walked out. Ironwood scoffed. "Waste of talent." He followed. Lady Rose lingered. She looked at Elian with a strange expression—curiosity mixed with hunger. "My offer stands," she whispered. "When they break you... come find me."
She vanished in a swirl of shadows.
Elian let out a breath, slumping against the window sill.
"That went well," he muttered. "I just made enemies of the three most powerful people on Earth."
It was necessary, Kaelen said. If you joined them, you couldn't stop the Third Gate event. Their bureaucracy would have strangled you.
"I know. But now I need a base. A real one. Somewhere they can't touch me."
___________________________________________
The Prize Ceremony
An hour later, Elian stood on the podium in the center of the stadium. The crowd was gone, but the cameras were rolling.
The System Administrator—a generic, faceless A.I. avatar—handed him a golden scroll.
[Item: Guild Charter (Rank F)][Description: Legal documentation to establish an independent organization.]
And a heavy sack.
[Item: 1,000,000 Credits]
And finally, his Hunter License. It was a sleek, black metal card.
[Name: Elian Vance][Rank: Rookie (Champion)][Class: Dungeon Architect]
Elian took the mic. The reporters shouted questions. "Mr. Vance! Will you join Crimson Dawn?" "Mr. Vance! What is your relationship with the Assassin Sera?"
Elian ignored them. He held up the Charter.
"I am establishing my own Guild," Elian announced to the cameras. "It will be called... Vanguard."
Vanguard, Kaelen whispered. That was the name of my party. The one that died.
"New management," Elian thought back.
"And," Elian continued, looking directly into the camera lens, knowing the Guild Masters were watching. "We are hiring. But not combatants. I'm looking for Crafters. Rejects. People the Big Three threw away."
He dropped the mic.
The Real Estate
Elian left the stadium and went straight to the Land Registry Office.
With his Charter and his million credits, he could buy property. But a million credits in Sector 1 bought you a closet. In Sector 2, maybe an apartment.
"I need land," Elian told the clerk. "Big land. Defensive perimeter. Remote."
The clerk tapped his screen. "With your budget? You're looking at the wastelands, sir. Sector 9. Or... wait."
The clerk frowned. "There is a property in Sector 4. The 'Old Foundry'. It's an industrial complex built over a closed Dungeon Gate. It's marked as 'Hazardous'."
"Hazardous why?"
"Mana leaks. Ghost infestations. And it sits on the border of the Grey Zone. The monsters raid it weekly."
Elian smiled. A massive industrial complex. Built on top of a dungeon (infinite resources). Constant monster attacks (infinite XP). And located in the slums where he grew up.
"How much?"
"It's been on the market for ten years. 800,000 credits."
"I'll take it."
The Foundry
Two hours later, Elian stood in front of his new kingdom.
It was a wreck. The Old Foundry was a massive, rusting factory complex surrounded by a crumbling brick wall. The smokestacks were broken. The windows were shattered. The ground was overgrown with purple, mutated weeds.
[Location: The Old Foundry][Owner: Guild Vanguard][Security Rating: G][Condition: Derelict]
The air hummed with wild mana. Elian could feel the dungeon beneath the foundation—a dormant beast waiting to wake up.
"It's perfect," Elian said.
It's a death trap, Kaelen corrected. A Wyvern could nest in that chimney. The mana leak will attract beasts within ten miles.
"Exactly."
Elian walked to the main gate. The iron bars were twisted and rusted shut.
He placed his hand on the metal.
[Class Skill: Edit Mode]
The rust flaked away. The iron groaned and straightened. The metal shifted from dull brown to a gleaming, reinforced black.
"I'm not just going to live here," Elian said, his eyes glowing blue as he poured his mana into the structure. "I'm going to turn this place into the deadliest dungeon on Earth."
He opened the gate.
"Welcome home, Vanguard."
The Sting
Meanwhile, in a dark room in Sector 1.
A man sat in a high-backed chair, watching the news feed of Elian leaving the Land Registry. The man wore a suit, but on his lapel was a pin: A silver wolf head. The crest of the Fenrir Guild.
But under the desk, his foot tapped a rhythm. One-two-three. One-two-three. The code of the Abyssal Monarch.
He picked up a phone.
"Yes?" a distorted voice answered.
The Architect, the man said smoothly. "He bought the Foundry."
The Foundry covers the entrance to the Deep Roads, the voice hissed. "If he digs too deep, he will find the supply lines for the Third Gate."
Shall I remove him?
"No. He is... interesting. Monitor him. If he finds the Deep Roads... unleash the prototypes."
"Understood."
The man hung up. He leaned back into the light. It was Vice-Guild Master Vane. The traitor Kaelen had warned Elian about.
Vane smiled. "Enjoy your renovation, Mr. Vance. You just bought a graveyard."