Awakening a 10,000x Skill Proficiency Multiplier in the Apocalypse

The heavy mahogany doors of Madame Thorne’s VIP suite clicked shut behind Sebastian. He was back in the dimly lit stone corridors of the Ironhold Arena. The chaotic roar of the colosseum echoed through the floorboards.

Sebastian didn’t look back. He had just secured a highly lucrative partnership in the city. Best of all, he hadn’t even needed to draw his weapon. Thorne was a smart AI governed by the brutal logic of profit. She knew an anomaly when she saw one, and she definitely knew how to monetize it.

He navigated the spiraling staircase back down to the grim underbelly of the arena and headed straight for the betting windows.

The greasy Goblin teller from earlier was sweating profusely. A dozen angry players were currently screaming at him because they had just lost their life savings on Gorgon.

Sebastian shoved his way to the front of the line. He didn’t say a word. He just tapped a single blood-stained finger against the iron grate.

The Goblin looked up, and his eyes widened in absolute terror. He easily recognized the starter cloth tunic and those deadpan eyes.

”D-Drifter,” the Goblin stammered, frantically waving the other players away. ”Right this way, sir. Your winnings.”

The Goblin placed a massive leather sack onto the counter. It was heavy enough to crack the stone.

Sebastian opened his inventory interface and touched the bag. The system chime rang out clearly.

[System Resources Updated]

↳ Arena Winnings: 500 Gold Coins

It was a staggering sum. But it still wasn’t the 5,000 gold he needed.

Right on cue, a secondary notification flashed across his vision. It was accompanied by the distinct sound of a cash register dinging.

[Auction House Notification: Items Sold!]

↳ 5x Potion of Knitting (Divine Tier) have been purchased.

↳ Total Payout (After 5 percent System Tax): 4,750 Gold Coins.

Sebastian let out a slow and satisfied breath. The rich players had taken the bait.

Somewhere out there, the leaders of the top guilds like the Crimson Skulls, the Golden Lions, and the Blue Roses were bleeding their guild banks dry. They wanted a consumable that could instantly regrow a severed limb.

They thought they were buying a massive advantage. They didn’t realize they were just funding the most ruthless landlord of the apocalypse.

His total balance now sat at a comfortable 5,250 Gold. He was undoubtedly the richest player on the server right now.

And he was about to spend it all on a piece of literal garbage.

He left the arena entirely and stepped back out into the neon-lit streets of Ironhold. The air tasted like rust and burning coal.

He completely ignored the roaming NPC thugs and the confused beta testers. He made a beeline for the central plaza where the Grand Auction House stood. It was a towering building of blackened steel bustling with economic activity.

Sebastian walked past the crowds of players haggling over rusty swords and copper rings. He approached an open terminal. It was a glowing crystal orb resting on a marble pedestal.

He placed his hand on the crystal and synced his user interface with the global market database.

The holographic interface projected into his retinas. Millions of items scrolled past in a blur of text and color.

He didn’t bother browsing. He opened the search parameters and typed in a highly specific string of keywords.

Material. Unidentified. Weight: 0.5kg. Origin: The Dead Wastes.

The system filtered out millions of listings and left only a single item on the screen.

[Rusty Iron Shard]

↳ Tier: Trash

↳ Description: A jagged piece of scrap metal. It holds no magical properties and cannot be forged. It is entirely useless.

↳ Current Bid: 5 Silver Coins.

Sebastian stared at the pixelated image of the shard. A cold smile crept onto his face.

To the rest of the player base, it was just a joke item. A piece of junk that some poor level 5 player had looted off a scavenger mob and tossed onto the auction house hoping to scam a beginner.

But Sebastian knew the server’s underlying architecture. That trash item wasn’t metal. It was a dormant and fractured piece of a City Core.

It was the foundational anchor required to establish a Sanctuary. A physical and magically reinforced territory that could manifest in the real world when the Great Merge happened.

Without it, you couldn’t build walls that ignored real world physics. You couldn’t build a safe zone at all. You were just meat waiting to be eaten by the Void.

He didn’t hesitate and entered a bid.

[Bid Placed: 100 Gold Coins.]

The system registered the massive leap in currency. He was effectively bidding the equivalent of a real world sports car on a digital paperweight.

For about ten seconds, the screen remained quiet. Sebastian leaned against the marble pillar and crossed his arms while waiting for the auction timer to tick down.

Then, the interface flashed red.

[You have been outbid!]

↳ Current Bid: 150 Gold Coins.

↳ Bidder: Baron_K

Sebastian rolled his eyes. ”Of course,” he muttered to himself. ”The trust fund kid.”

In his past life, Baron_K was a notorious pay to win player. He was the guild master of the Golden Lions, a massive collective of rich kids who used real world money to buy in game gold.

Baron_K didn’t know what the shard did. He was just a bored and arrogant rich kid who saw someone overbidding on a trash item and decided to flex his wallet for sheer entertainment.

Sebastian tapped the crystal orb.

[Bid Placed: 500 Gold Coins.]

Two seconds later.

[You have been outbid!]

↳ Current Bid: 600 Gold Coins.

↳ Bidder: Baron_K

A private message pinged in Sebastian’s interface. It was from Baron_K himself.

Baron_K: Lol. Cute try, broke boy. I don’t know why you want this garbage, but I have more gold than your entire family tree. Back off before I buy your account and delete it.

Sebastian actually let out a short laugh. He loved the early days of the game. The sheer hubris of people who thought digital wealth made them untouchable was hilarious.

In twelve months, Baron_K’s real world bank accounts would be worth less than the toilet paper in Sebastian’s bathroom.

Sebastian didn’t reply to the message. He didn’t engage in the banter. He just looked at his total balance of 5,250 gold, cracked his knuckles, and typed in a new number.

[Bid Placed: 5,000 Gold Coins.]

He dropped the nuclear option. He bypassed the incremental bidding war entirely and slammed five thousand gold coins onto the table. It was a sum of money that literally broke the server’s localized economy algorithms.

The terminal actually lagged for a fraction of a second. The glowing crystal flickered as it processed the transaction.

The private messages from Baron_K stopped instantly. The silence on the other end of the network was deafening.

Sebastian could practically hear the rich kid choking on his own spit, staring at a screen displaying a number he couldn’t even begin to match.

The auction timer ticked down.

Three.

Two.

One.

[Auction Won!]

↳ The item Rusty Iron Shard has been transferred to your inventory.

Sebastian opened his bag. There it was. A jagged and ugly piece of brown metal sitting securely in his bottomless inventory.

It looked like trash. It felt like trash. But to Sebastian, it was the first brick of an impenetrable fortress. It was the difference between surviving the apocalypse and being digested by a Phase Spider.

Another message pinged in his interface.

Baron_K: You’re dead. I don’t know who you are, but the Golden Lions own Ironhold. I’m putting a kill on sight order on your head. You won’t be able to step out of a safe zone without getting camped into oblivion.

Sebastian read the message with his face a mask of absolute apathy. He reached up and tapped the Block Player button.

”Take a number,” Sebastian whispered to the empty air.

He closed the terminal. He had the money. He had the anchor. Now, he just needed to check on his real world body.

The synchronization process was a delicate and violent thing. He needed to make sure his physical brain wasn’t melting out of his ears.

He opened the system menu and hit Disconnect. The smog filled architecture of Ironhold shattered into a million pixels, dragging his consciousness back into the bleak and terrifying reality of 2077.