Insomniac Player

Damien stayed on one knee for a while, breathing hard. The world had finally stopped spinning, the last of the system windows fading out of his vision one by one.

He was alive. That fact alone still didn’t feel quite real. A few minutes ago a Level 30 Knight Commander had come within a hair of skewering him on a sword the size of a wagon. Now there was only quiet.

"...Congratulations." A voice cut through it.

He looked up. Military vehicles ringed the clearing, floodlights burning against the dark even though the fighting had already ended. Soldiers stood posted every few meters, medics moving fast between stretchers behind them. Reporters crowded the barricades further out, cameras already trained on him, drones circling low overhead to catch every angle.

"...So many people." He pushed himself up onto shaky legs.

A gap opened in the line of soldiers. Someone stepped through it, and the crowd noise dropped a notch just from the way he walked, unhurried, like he already knew nobody here was going to slow him down.

"You." The voice carried authority without needing volume. "Did you clear the gate?"

Before Damien could answer, a cloud of cigarette smoke drifted between them.

Doctor Smoke strolled forward, lighting a fresh one off the last. "...Yeah. He saved our asses."

The man’s eyes shifted to her. "So the report’s accurate."

"He killed the Lord. He owns the gate. That’s the whole story."

He reached into his coat and drew out an envelope, silver letters printed across the front. PBL. Player Bank Limited.

He held it out to Doctor Smoke. "As promised."

She opened it and glanced at the number on the certified cheque inside. Five hundred gold coins.

"Government reward," he said. "For the emergency raid."

She folded it once and slid it into her inventory without a word.

Damien watched all of it happen. Five hundred gold coins. Yesterday, ten had felt like a fortune to him. His whole grasp of money apparently belonged in a museum already.

Doctor Smoke caught the look on his face and smiled, small and a little sharp. "...Country bumpkin."

He pretended not to hear it.

The man turned to him instead and offered a hand. Up close, he was built like something poured rather than grown, shoulders wide enough to fill a doorway, forearms corded with muscle that looked earned rather than trained for show, nothing soft anywhere on him. A military cut kept his hair short and severe. "Noah. Military Operations Division."

Damien shook it. "...Sleepless."

"I know." Noah’s eyes sharpened. "You’re the registered owner of the Rusted Blade now."

Damien said nothing.

Noah didn’t waste time getting to it. "I’ll buy it. One thousand gold coins." It came out closer to an order than an offer.

Damien’s pulse jumped at the number. A thousand gold could carry him for months without a worry. And owning a gate outright sounded like exactly the kind of attention he didn’t want, guilds circling, people asking questions he couldn’t answer yet.

Selling made sense. He opened his mouth. "I..."

Doctor Smoke cut between them before he could finish, blowing smoke into the space she’d just filled. "...The hell are you doing?"

Noah frowned. "Negotiating."

"No." She looked genuinely annoyed now. "You’re robbing him."

"He doesn’t know the market."

"We know." She rolled her mechanical shoulder, a slow hydraulic click underneath it. "So stop taking advantage of that."

She turned to Damien. "Cheapest rare beginner gate on the market right now runs about ten thousand gold. Minimum." She jerked a thumb toward where the gate had vanished. "Yours has a Demiboss inside it. It’s worth more than that."

Noah’s whole expression shifted. "...A Demiboss?"

"Saw the completion notice myself."

He looked back at Damien, and whatever authority had been sitting behind his face a moment ago softened into something closer to embarrassment. "...I may have underestimated this."

Doctor Smoke almost laughed. "You think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly didn’t expect the Rusted Blade to be hiding one." His tone shifted, more careful now. "I’m sorry. The government can’t match market price on this. Would you consider ten thousand? That’s roughly fair for a standard rare gate, but funding won’t stretch further than that."

Damien had no idea what to say to a number that size. Yesterday he’d been thrilled over three silver coins’ worth of ice cream. Now people were tossing around figures a thousand times bigger like it was nothing.

Doctor Smoke stepped in again before he had to answer. "Don’t sell." She held his eyes. "You sell, you lose the income for good." She turned back to Noah. "He’ll rent it to guilds instead."

Noah’s jaw tightened. "Let him answer for himself."

"...Or what?" She smiled, unbothered, and stepped in close enough to breathe smoke straight into his face.

His jaw flexed harder. "You always do this."

"You always deserve it."

For a second the air went tight. A couple soldiers shifted their hands closer to their weapons without quite meaning to.

Damien took a small step back, and something occurred to him. "...Profile."

Noah had approached him first, willingly, which meant his basics were visible now.

➤[Player Profile]

Alias: Noah

Military Level: 72

Class: Rampage Bruiser (Elite)

His stomach dropped. "...Seventy-two."

His mouth went dry. Doctor Smoke sat at Level Twenty and already felt like a force of nature. Seventy-two wasn’t a number he had a frame for.

Doctor Smoke noticed the color drain out of his face and let out a short sigh, thinking something over. Then she turned back to Noah.

"...Fine. New offer."

He crossed his arms. "I’m listening."

"Rent it."

"...Rent."

"You don’t need to own it. You need access. Set up a monthly payment."

He considered it. "...How much?"

"A hundred gold a month."

He nearly laughed. "A hundred? I’ll give you fifty."

"A hundred."

"No."

"Then." She waved a hand, casual. "We’ll take a walk to the guild district tomorrow."

"...We?"

She smiled. "He’s with me now."

Damien blinked. "...I am?"

She ignored him entirely and kept her eyes on Noah. "Picture tomorrow’s headlines." She nodded toward the crowd of reporters, still there, cameras still rolling, drones still circling. "The Rusted Blade. The gate that killed seven hundred eighteen players. Finally cleared. Now up for lease." Her eyes stayed locked on his. "Every guild on the continent puts in a bid."

Noah swore under his breath. She wasn’t wrong, and the broadcast was already live. Within the hour the whole country would know, and by morning every serious guild would have a representative standing here instead of him. Time was already working against the government, not for it.

He glanced once at the reporters, then at Damien, and let out a long breath. "...Fine. A hundred gold coins."

Doctor Smoke put her hand out. "Good."

He shook it, reluctant. "I’ll have the contract drawn up." He looked to Damien. "You’ll have it by evening. Read every line before you sign anything."

"I will."

Noah took one last look at the empty spot where the gate had been, then turned. "Move out."

The convoy started rolling within minutes, a fourteen-wheeled armored transport leading the pack, big enough to haul a whole platoon. One by one the vehicles pulled away until only the reporters and Doctor Smoke’s party remained.

She watched the last truck disappear down the road, then looked over at Damien, lit one more cigarette, and let the smoke out slow.

"...We’re even now."

He looked at her, confused.

"I saved you. You saved us. Debt’s settled."

She turned to walk off. A few steps in, she stopped without looking back. "Oh. Next time, buy a return stone before you walk into a raid."

Delulu burst out laughing. "Told you, Leader!"

Naked Nun grinned. "Our little scout made it out alive."

Madam Marvel gave a single nod. "...Not bad."

The four of them walked off together under the floodlights, and Damien stood alone in the clearing, looking at the spot where the Rusted Blade had been.

A small smile crossed his face. "...Looks like I won’t be starving anytime soon."