Chapter 15: [15] : The Fear Factor, Global Auction House

The canyon was completely silent. The sound of fighting was gone, replaced by the soft hiss of the wind blowing through the jagged rocks.

Forty-nine piles of glowing blue pixels floated up into the dark sky, leaving behind a massive, chaotic mess of dropped gear. Swords, shields, crossbows, and cheap armor littered the ground like a graveyard of junk.

Only one member of the Black Vanguard was still breathing.

Gideon was on his knees in the dirt. He had dropped his cheap iron longsword minutes ago. He was hyperventilating, his eyes wide and vacant as he stared at the carnage around him. His face and armor were splattered with the digital blood of his guildmates.

Declan walked slowly toward him. The heavy iron shaft of the Warden’s Halberd rested easily on his shoulder. His pitch-black Predator’s Coat was still immaculate, repelling the dirt and blood like it wasn’t even there.

Gideon flinched violently when Declan stopped in front of him.

"Please," Gideon sobbed, staring at Declan’s boots. "I don’t have anything left. You took my level. You took my gear. Please don’t send me back to spawn again."

Declan looked down at the broken man. He could easily drop the halberd and crush him into pixels. It would give him another chunk of Origin Points. But Declan was thinking bigger than a few points.

If you wanted to control a zone in a lawless game like the Grid, sheer power wasn’t enough. You had to let people know you had that power. Fear was the most efficient currency in the world.

"I’m not going to kill you," Declan said softly.

Gideon’s head snapped up. "You... you aren’t?"

"No," Declan replied. He leaned down slightly, his dark eyes locking onto Gideon’s terrified face. "If I kill you, you just respawn and whine to a new group of idiots. If I let you live, you get to do a job for me."

"Anything," Gideon nodded frantically. "What do you want?"

"I want you to run," Declan said, his voice cold and flat. "Run back to the safe zone. Run back to whoever is left in your little guild. And I want you to tell them exactly what happened here. Tell them what I look like. Tell them about the coat. Tell them about the teleporting."

Declan stood up straight and pointed the blunt, brutal head of the halberd at Gideon’s face.

"Tell them Sector 4 belongs to me now. If anyone tries to charge a toll, block a road, or hunt players in my zone, I will find them. Understand?"

"Yes," Gideon choked out. "Yes, I swear."

"Good," Declan said. "Now get out of my sight before I change my mind."

Gideon didn’t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet, slipping in the mud, and sprinted down the canyon path as fast as his legs could carry him. He was screaming something about a Blinking Butcher as he disappeared into the distance.

Declan groaned internally. ’Blinking Butcher? That is incredibly cheesy. Gamers have terrible naming sense.’

He turned around. Sloane and Kendra were slowly walking out from behind their rock. They were both staring at the massive field of dropped loot.

"You left him alive," Sloane said, walking up beside Declan. "That’s surprisingly merciful for a guy who just turned forty-nine people into pancakes."

"It’s not mercy," Declan said, willing the halberd back into his inventory. "It’s advertising. By tomorrow, every player in Sector 4 will know not to mess with us."

Kendra walked over to a pile of loot and picked up a heavy iron breastplate.

"Declan, there is so much stuff here. Our inventories can’t hold all this."

Declan looked around. She was right. The system rules stated that PvP kills didn’t drop standard EXP, but players dropped items from their active inventory. The Black Vanguard had been heavily geared. There were dozens of iron swords, shields, leather vests, and minor health potions scattered everywhere.

He didn’t want any of it. It was all Scavenged or Forged tier trash compared to his mutated gear. But it was valuable to other players.

"We need Origin Points," Declan said, rubbing his chin. "Can we vendor this stuff at a safe zone NPC?"

Sloane shook her head. "NPCs give you terrible rates. A sword that costs fifty points to buy will only sell for five points to a vendor."

Sloane paused and opened her system interface. She swiped through a few menus until a bright golden window popped up in front of her.

"Wait," Sloane said, her eyes lighting up. "The server just hit a milestone. Enough players reached Level 10 across all the sectors. The system just unlocked the Global Auction House."

Declan raised an eyebrow. "Global?"

"Yeah," Sloane explained rapidly. "Players from any sector can post items, and anyone can buy them using Origin Points. The system handles the digital transfer instantly. No meeting up required."

Declan looked at the massive pile of gear. Then he looked at Sloane.

"Sloane, what did you do in the real world before you got thrown in here?" Declan asked.

"I was an ER nurse," Sloane said. "And before that, I worked retail. I am very good at dealing with terrible people and organizing chaos."

Declan nodded, then looked at Kendra. "And you?"

He wasn’t really expecting her to answer.

Kendra hesitated, gripping her bow tightly. "Well, I was a corporate drone operator. I flew delivery routes through the lower slums. A gang hijacked my rig and stole a shipment of experimental tech. The megacorp held me liable for the cost. Two million credits." She shivered, looking out at the dark canyon. "That’s why I have trust no one. I’m used to getting ambushed in the shadows."

Declan’s eyes softened for just a fraction of a second. He knew exactly how ruthless corporate debt was.

"You have good eyes, Kendra," Declan told her. "Keep using them for us, and I promise no one is going to ambush you ever again. You’re the one doing the hunting now."

Kendra looked at him, surprised, and slowly nodded. She stood a little taller.

Declan then turned his attention back to the medic. "And Sloane, your background is exactly what we need right now. Congratulations on your promotion. You are now the official Quartermaster of this party."

Sloane crossed her arms. "I don’t work for free, boss."

"Five percent cut of all total sales," Declan offered. "You price it, you list it, you manage the inventory. I just want the Origin Points funneled directly into my account."

"Ten percent," Sloane countered without missing a beat. Her hands were still trembling from watching him vaporize three men, but her old ER-nurse instincts were kicking in. When surrounded by blood and chaos, focus on the clipboard. Focus on the job. "I’m the one who has to sit here and categorize forty-nine pairs of sweaty boots and rusty swords. That’s hazard pay."

"Seven percent," Declan said. "And I’ll make sure nothing kills you while you do it."

"Deal," Sloane grinned. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

For the next hour, they turned the canyon into a literal sorting facility.

Kendra gathered all the weapons and armor from the dirt and piled them up. Sloane sat on a rock, scanning every single item into her system interface and pricing it aggressively on the Global Auction House.

"Okay, listing ten standard iron swords," Sloane muttered, tapping away at her floating holographic screen. "The newbies in Sector 1 are getting slaughtered right now. They’ll pay a premium for weapons. Listing them for thirty Origin Points each."

Declan sat quietly nearby, checking his own balance. He had linked his account to Sloane’s auction house terminal.

The results were instant.

The Grid was filled with millions of desperate players trying to survive their first day. The demand for decent gear was astronomical. The moment Sloane posted an item, it sold.

[Item Sold: Iron Sword. Origin Points +30 transferred.]

[Item Sold: Heavy Wooden Shield. Origin Points +25 transferred.]

[Item Sold: Leather Greaves. Origin Points +20 transferred.]

The system notifications started flooding Declan’s vision so fast he had to mute the chime sound. His Origin Point balance, which had been completely drained after upgrading the halberd, started rocketing upward.

One hundred. Five hundred. A thousand.

Sloane was a ruthless merchant. She bundled cheap health potions together and sold them at a markup to desperate guilds. She sold entire matching armor sets to players who wanted to look intimidating.

"Just sold a rare crossbow for two hundred points," Sloane announced proudly. "The corporate elites in Sector 1 and 2 linked their real-world bank accounts to the Grid. They are legally buying Origin Points with actual cash. And we are going to drain their wallets."

By the time the last piece of junk was sold, the canyon was completely clean again.

Declan opened his status screen and looked at his balance.

[Origin Points: 4,850]

He stared at the number. Nearly five thousand points. For a normal player, that was a fortune that would take weeks of grinding to acquire. For Declan, it was fuel. It was the raw material he needed to break the game’s code even further.

"Not bad," Declan said, closing the menu. "You earned your cut, Sloane."

"I’m rich," Sloane laughed, looking at her own balance of over three hundred points. "I can actually buy real food now. No more burnt rat!"

"Don’t get comfortable," Declan said, standing up and stretching his legs. He looked down the canyon path toward the dark, ominous mountains of Sector 5.

"This was just pocket change. We have a lot more hunting to do."