Insomniac Player

Salma stared at him for several seconds. Finally, she sighed. "Fine."

She pointed a finger at Noah’s chest. "If those suit bastards have done anything to my party member, I’ll level up faster than they can reload. Then I’ll personally find you all and kill you."

Noah smiled. "Very comforting."

◇◇◇

Ten minutes later, Damien sat inside a black military vehicle. Noah sat opposite him; neither spoke.

The vehicle lifted silently from the ruined streets of Tycho. Through the reinforced window, Damien watched the destroyed city shrink beneath them.

Smoke still rose in columns. Emergency aircraft moved between districts. From this height, twenty-one percent didn’t look like a number. It looked like someone had taken a bite out of the city.

Damien leant back, his mask still on his face. Noah watched him. The vehicle accelerated. Tycho disappeared behind them.

Viremont soon appeared on the horizon, the city almost peaceful by comparison. People moved through the streets. Aerial trains crossed between districts. Massive towers stood beneath the afternoon sun. The contrast with Tycho was disturbing. Eighty-six kilometres was all that separated ordinary life from catastrophe.

The military vehicle didn’t head towards Damien’s apartment. Instead, it moved towards the governmental district.

Damien had never been there before. Buildings grew larger and cleaner, security tightened at every block. Government players stood at intersections.

Military aircraft patrolled the airspace, and then Damien saw it. A massive, marble, five-floored establishment dominated the centre of the district.

Not a skyscraper. It didn’t need height to appear imposing. The building stretched across several blocks, built from pale stone and dark glass.

Wide stairs led towards enormous entrance pillars, the regional flag hanging above them.

[SECRETARIAT OF REGION 21]

Damien whistled. "Fancy."

Noah glanced outside. "Regional government headquarters."

The world no longer operated around old national borders. Not completely. Countries still existed culturally. Languages remained. Old identities remained. But after the system arrived, it had divided the earth differently.

Regions, two hundred and nine in total. Every piece of land belonged to a system-recognised region.

Small regions usually possessed one capital. Medium regions possessed two. The largest had three.

Region 21 was classified as medium-sized. It had two capitals: Viremont and Aetherfall.

Viremont served as the political heart. The government headquarters, military command, and regional administration were all located here.

Aetherfall was different. That city belonged to money. Private guild headquarters, auction houses, merchant associations, mercenary organisations.

If Viremont represented the authority of government, Aetherfall represented the power of guilds.

Damien looked towards the Secretariat. "So this place runs everything?"

"Not everything," Noah replied. "Region 21 has local governments beneath it. Cities maintain their own administrations, but major regional matters come here."

"Who actually runs the region?"

Noah looked at him. "Players."

Damien frowned. "Obviously."

"No." Noah shook his head. "I mean literally."

He pointed towards the building. "Political Classes."

Damien remembered hearing about them. Classes didn’t only revolve around combat. Merchants, doctors, craftsmen, researchers. Including politicians.

People who awakened political classes could create recognised political parties through the system. Those parties competed for authority. Elections still existed; government still existed.

But now, even politics had statistics. Skills, classes, and levels.

Damien grimaced. "Politicians have skills too?"

Noah laughed. "Terrifying, isn’t it?"

"Very."

The vehicle descended.

◇◇◇

The moment Damien stepped out, he felt it. Too many eyes on him. Military players stood throughout the courtyard. Some wore ordinary uniforms; others wore full combat equipment.

Damien instinctively checked the nearest one.

[Military Player - Lv. 61]

Another. [Lv. 74]

Another. [Lv. 57]

Damien stopped checking. "...You people don’t mess around."

"This is the Secretariat." Noah walked towards the entrance.

Damien followed. The doors opened automatically. Inside, the building was even more impressive.

White marble covered the floor. Golden System displays floated above reception desks. Officials moved through enormous halls, discussing reports. Military officers hurried between departments.

Damien’s black, sleepless equipment suddenly felt incredibly noticeable.

A group of military players approached. Six at first, then another four appeared behind them.

Damien’s steps slowed. "...Noah."

"Keep walking."

Damien checked one. [Lv. 66]

Then the next. [Lv. 81]

The weakest was Level 54.

Damien was Level 20; he’d levelled up five times since successfully completing the gatebreak quest.

"This seems excessive," he said.

Noah almost smiled. "They’re not here to fight you."

"That’s exactly what someone says before people fight you."

The soldiers surrounded them. Two in front, two behind, others flanking both sides. An escort, or a containment. Damien couldn’t tell which.

One officer stepped forward. "Sir Noah."

Noah nodded. "He’s with me."

The officer looked at Damien, his eyes lingering on the black clothing, then on Damien’s face. "Identity?"

Damien stayed silent. Noah answered for him. "Damien."

The officer’s expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. Apparently, that name meant something here.

He stepped aside. "Proceed."

They entered an elevator. The military players followed; the doors closed.

Damien looked around at ten high-level soldiers.

"...Should I feel honoured?"

Nobody answered.

The elevator began rising. Damien looked at Noah. "What exactly am I being interrogated about?"

Noah stared forward. "I genuinely don’t know."

"Helpful."

"I was told to bring you."

"Alive?"

One soldier coughed. Noah glanced at Damien. "Preferably."

Damien smiled. "Good enough."

The elevator continued upward, floor numbers climbing past five.

Ting.

The elevator stopped. Floor 5. The doors opened onto a long marble corridor. Two enormous black doors waited at the end, more military players stationed beside them.

Noah stepped forward. Damien followed, ten soldiers moving behind him in step. Damien looked at the doors, then remembered the message once more.

A faint smile returned to his face. Whatever the higher-ups wanted, he was ready to hear it.

They crossed another marble corridor before reaching a pair of tall wooden doors.

[REGIONAL EXECUTIVE MEETING HALL]

Noah stopped. A military officer stationed beside the entrance stepped towards Damien.

Unlike the others, his manner was respectful. "Mr Damien."

Damien looked at him.

"Before entering, I’ll have to ask you to remove your mask."

Damien’s fingers instinctively touched the black cloth covering his nose and mouth. Since becoming Sleepless, he’d sworn never to remove it in public. Now, on his very first day, he had no choice.

"Is it required to?"

"Inside this chamber, yes."

Damien glanced at Noah. Noah nodded.

Damien sighed. "Sure, why not?"

He pulled the mask down. The officer studied his face for a moment. Recognition flashed in his eyes, so faint that Damien almost missed it.

"Thank you."

The doors opened. Damien stepped inside quickly.

He understood immediately why Salma had wanted to come. The meeting hall was enormous, a long polished table occupying its centre. Twelve men sat around it. Eleven wore suits, the twelfth a military uniform.

Damien’s eyes went naturally to the man at the head of the table. Young, far younger than he’d expected. Early thirties at most, with perfectly styled dark hair, a tailored black suit, and a calm, unreadable expression.

The man didn’t rise. He didn’t need to.

His gaze settled on Damien, unhurried, almost curious.

"Sit," he said quietly. "We have a great deal to discuss."

A nameplate stood before him. Damien barely registered the name itself. The title underneath mattered more.

[PRESIDENT - REGION 21]