Chapter 120: [120] : Spoils of War, Cold Efficiency
The golden system notifications didn’t stop with the victory announcement. They completely flooded Declan’s vision, scrolling faster than a slot machine hitting the jackpot.
Declan slowly floated down from the sky, his heavy Spiked Striders landing softly on the thick layer of gray ash that used to be the Sector 9 central plaza.
He dismissed the massive Orbital Ion Reflector back into his digital inventory. He didn’t need it anymore. There was absolutely nothing left to shoot.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black Predator Coat and read the cascading text.
[System Processing]
↳ Processing Deathmatch Rewards...
↳ Transferring all local assets of defeated faction Neon Syndicate to Victor’s Treasury.
↳ Origin Points Transferred: +85,400,000
Declan actually blinked. He stopped walking.
"Eighty five million." Declan muttered, a slow and highly amused smile spreading across his face.
The Neon Syndicate had been the rulers of Sector 9. They had hoarded the wealth of an entire city, taxing their citizens and robbing high level dungeons for months before the real world convergence even started.
And now, every single coin of that stolen wealth belonged to the Iron Bastion.
But the system wasn’t done. The massive amount of experience points generated by deleting forty thousand high level players at once completely broke the progression curve.
[Biological State Update]
↳ Processing Combat Experience...
↳ Warning: Massive EXP Overflow Detected. Bypassing standard leveling caps.
↳ Level Up!
↳ Level Up!
↳ Level Up!
The golden chimes hammered rapidly inside his skull, but it didn’t hurt. It felt like pure power flooding his physical veins. His real world body, currently resting safely inside the dive pod in his warehouse, drank in the digital code.
His muscles grew denser. His Abyssal Sovereign aura expanded, pushing away the lingering toxic smoke of the ruined city.
[Host Information]
↳ You have reached Level 75.
↳ Stat Points Available: 1,000
"Keep the points in reserve." Declan ordered the system casually.
He didn’t need to bump his stats right now. At Level 70, with his class multipliers, he was already walking around with the physical density of a collapsing star.
He looked around the empty and ash covered wasteland.
The red energy dome that had locked them in the deathmatch slowly dissolved, shattering into harmless sparks of light.
He had won the war. Now he just needed to clean up.
Declan walked through the gray ash, his pitch black eyes scanning the ground. Millions of blue pixels were still floating up into the sky, but amidst the digital dust, there were physical items left behind.
High tier weapons, shattered cybernetic armor pieces, and rare skill books littered the ground for miles. It was a scavenger’s absolute dream.
"Sloane is going to have a heart attack when she sees this inventory log." Declan chuckled.
He didn’t bother picking up the weapons. He just tapped his +20 Ring of the Void Hoarder.
The Mythic ring glowed with dark energy, acting like a massive vacuum. It automatically sucked every dropped item within a hundred yard radius directly into his infinite storage space.
He walked for a few minutes, completely clearing the ruins, until he found what he was actually looking for.
Lying in the dirt, half buried under a pile of melted neon armor, was a small dull silver dog tag.
Declan knelt down and picked it up. He wiped the ash off the metal surface.
[Item Information]
↳ Item: Damaged Miner Identification Tag
↳ Owner: Miller
Declan stared at the tag for a long moment. His cold and dark eyes softened just a fraction.
Miller was just a Level 12 worker. He was a guy who picked up a pickaxe to pay his rent and keep his family safe inside the Iron Bastion. The Neon Syndicate had executed him just to send a message.
Declan slipped the dog tag into his pocket.
"Message received. And answered." Declan said quietly.
He stood up. He had secured the tag. He had secured the sector wealth. It was time to head home.
"System. Activate Spatial Anchor. Target: Iron Bastion, Central Keep."
The dark void energy swallowed him perfectly. The ruined wasteland of Sector 9 vanished, replaced instantly by the towering black iron walls of his own city.
Declan materialized on the high stone balcony overlooking the Iron Bastion courtyard.
The city was buzzing with life. The massive purple forges roared in the distance. The automated turrets hummed smoothly on the walls.
"Boss!" A loud and rough voice called out.
Declan turned around.
Standing near the heavy wooden doors of the balcony were Jax and Rook. The two scavenger captains looked incredibly nervous, but they were grinning from ear to ear.
And they weren’t alone.
Kneeling on the stone floor in front of them were three men. They were bound tightly in heavy iron chains. They weren’t wearing armor. They were wearing expensive and ruined real world corporate suits. They were completely soaked in mud and shaking violently.
"What is this?" Declan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Tribute, Boss!" Rook said proudly, spinning his iron dagger. "We were out scouting the border trenches when the deathmatch alert went off. We caught these three trying to sneak past the perimeter."
Jax stepped forward, kicking one of the bound men in the shoulder. The man whimpered and collapsed onto the stone.
"They are VIPs." Jax grinned. "High level executives from Apex Paradigm. They tried to buy us off! Offered us a million credits each to escort them to a safe zone!"
Declan’s eyes narrowed. He looked down at the three corporate suits.
These were the guys who sat in pristine glass towers and pressed buttons to delete entire sectors. These were the guys who had sent the Goliath mechs to vaporize his city.
"Player V!" The man in the middle gasped. He looked up at Declan with pure desperate terror. "Please! The game is over! The servers are merging! Apex Paradigm is willing to negotiate a formal treaty with you!"
"We can offer you real world assets!" The second executive begged, his voice cracking. "Land! Shares! Just name your price! We are incredibly valuable hostages!"
Declan just stared at them. His Abyssal Sovereign aura naturally bled out, making the air around the balcony feel incredibly heavy and cold.
The executives choked, struggling to breathe under the massive pressure of his stats.
"Valuable?" Declan repeated. His voice was a low and terrifying rumble.
He walked slowly toward them. His heavy spiked boots clicked against the stone.
"You don’t produce raw materials." Declan said smoothly, looking down at the crying billionaires. "You don’t forge weapons. You don’t know how to hunt monsters. In the real world, you were parasites hiding behind bank accounts. In my world, you are just dead weight."
The lead executive went completely pale. "Wait! No! We can pay you!"
Declan didn’t even draw a weapon. He just looked at Jax and Rook.
"Strip them of any gear they have in their inventories." Declan ordered coldly, turning his back on the VIPs. "Take their credits. Take their health potions."
"And then what, Boss?" Jax asked, eagerly gripping his battleaxe. "We execute them?"
"No." Declan said.
He walked over to the edge of the balcony and looked out over his massive and heavily fortified city.
"Execution is too easy." The Warlord smiled a dark and ruthless smile. "Give them rusted pickaxes. Send them to the deepest and darkest Void Ore mines we have. They can swing a pickaxe for fourteen hours a day. If they hit their quota, they get a bowl of rat meat. If they don’t, throw them outside the barrier."
The three executives screamed in sheer horror, begging and sobbing as Jax and Rook roughly dragged them away by their chains.
Declan ignored them. He took a sip from the cold cup of coffee he had left on the railing.
He hated inefficiency. And the Iron Bastion always needed more miners.
