Building A Clan. 4

Trent took the serene opportunity to cultivate just after he had loaded up with items he purchased from a Substore. He wanted to meditate and understand for himself more about how Mana and Essence really worked in this world. Using the space before the Substore, he delved deeper into his cultivation.

From what he could feel, Mana was like a flow—an invisible current of energy that danced within him, and probably, every other indigene. Extracting this raw energy, called Mana, through the act of Channelling wasn't easy, and only a few could manage it. That's why these Aetherians had devised another method. Instead of Channelling raw Mana, they compressed the energy, reducing its original destructive force so it could be stored and harboured as concentrated energy and power.

Mana was simply an unprocessed, powerful, abundant energy, while Essence was processed Mana that could be wielded by weaker indigenes, making it easier to adapt and use. That was why the she-devil Zhen, and all the others, were shocked when he channelled Mana into a definite Manifestation.

The chatter of familiar accents reached his ears, even before Claw perched on his shoulder to report the approach of two gamers, likely heading to the Substore to make a purchase.

Trent got to his feet, activating his Stealth perk so they wouldn't hear his approach. He couldn't hear their steps either, only their chatter, which they failed to keep down. As they came into view, where the Substore was fixed to a cave's wall, they stopped in their tracks.

"Holy cow!" "Bro, you scared us!" they exclaimed, quickly deploying their melee weapons as Trent already had his lightsaber drawn.

"Here to spend some credits?" Trent asked them.

"We might as well take your credits, flashy kid," one of them replied, spinning the katana he wielded while the other followed suit.

Trent raised a brow, somewhat impressed by their audacity to steal his Paxcoin and Neoncredits. "Believe me, brother, believe me, sister, you'd be the ones losing what little you have. But I might gift you some if you just answer a few questions."

The two players exchanged glances before looking back at Trent. "And what's that?"

Trent thought about how to phrase his question. He was eager to know what was happening in his world. After all, he still didn't feel as comfortable in Paradox as he had in the bustling streets of New York City. Most importantly, he wanted to know what had transpired after his death and how Vyle management had handled things.

"It's been a while since I logged off," Trent began. "I'm on an in-game streak, tryna set a record. Mind telling me what's been going on in the streets?" Trent asked, crafting the perfect lie.

To Trent's surprise, the two players seemed impressed. Apparently, being on a streak was something other players were doing as well. He knew his game would be that addictive.

"Mannn, we both just logged in now after being part of the riot. Everyone's going crazy after that Trent Docker guy died in a fire incident," one of them said and then paused. "They say it's an incident, but we don't believe that. I mean, look at the timing—it's suspicious! Everyone's rioting about it offline, the streets are plastered with his face."

Trent couldn't believe his ears. He motioned for them to continue after collecting their gamer IDs.

"We're even planning an honour ceremony here in the game! The rich kids are gonna fly over with their legendary jets, others with Humvees on the ground, and hoverboards too. Everyone's gonna participate and... might even raid more of the Paradox."

Trent was stunned. People really did find his death suspicious, and they had been protesting about it all this time. It brought a strange joy to his heart, knowing his efforts hadn't been in vain. He was on the path to becoming one of the greatest in history, like those legendary musicians and celebrities who were celebrated posthumously. Imagine nearly fifty million gamers performing a flyover and a stampede in his honour!

His ears perked up at the player's last words. What did they mean by raiding more of Paradox? 'Are you guys crazy?' Trent thought. 'Your game weapons wouldn't harm a single indigene; you'd all lose your Paxcoin.'

Trent then asked if there had been any statement from Vyle, but the players replied negatively, saying that the company's management had been unresponsive. However, the game continued to run smoothly, with no drop in Paxcoin value, no lags, and no mods.

Trent was relieved to hear that. It surely meant that his adversaries were indeed those humans in contact with the Aetherians—the Darth Society.

Grateful for the information, Trent thanked them and kept his promise, sharing a generous portion of his infinite Paxcoin and Neoncredits with the two players.

[Do you wish to send 3206135 {SleepyJoe} 100 Paxcoin & 2M Neoncredits?]

[YES] or [NO] 

Trent selected [YES]

[Do you wish to send 4905027 {Diva_Athena} 100 Paxcoin & 2M Neoncredits?]

[YES] or [NO]

Trent selected [YES]

[Seasonal Mission: Be a Gifter ~ completed]

[Reward: 200 EXP]

'Oh!' Trent exclaimed and chuckled to himself as he realized his gaming endeavour had been pushed to the side.

"Holy crap!" one of them exclaimed. "You just made me a fuckin' millionaire!"

"Enjoy," Trent replied, turning to leave.

"Nightingale?!" the other player shouted, reading out the IGN of the player who had just sent them the fortune. "I know you! Don't you know 'em? Can I join your clan, please, please!"

Trent shook his head and signalled to Claw that it was time to move. "Maybe next time," he said.

The two players watched as he walked down the sloping hills that led deeper into the habitable regions of Paradox. "You're going there?!" one yelled after him.

Trent glanced back at them. "Head back to Apocalypse, to the maps. I don't want to see you two near here again. Use another Substore," he replied before continuing on his way.

Once he reached level ground, Trent deployed his hovercraft. The players watched in awe as the red and black vehicle, which initially looked like a small toy with a red hologram, solidified into a sleek craft as Trent took the cockpit.

A whooshing sound echoed as the hovercraft launched, leaving a trail of red in its wake.

Trent arrived at the outskirts in no time. Waiting for him was Pana, who had managed to gather a few traditional vehicles they had purchased within the short time granted by Trent.

Trent couldn't believe what he saw. They resembled horse carriages but were far more advanced, with rectangular wheels that seemed to hover above the cobblestone ground. Instead of horses, the carriages were pulled by large, fat basilisk lizards!

Trent hopped off the hovercraft, which immediately shimmered away as he undeployed it, leaving the indigenes mesmerized and even more suspicious about his origin. Surely, no such vehicle existed in the Paradox.

"Does this meet your expectations? Perhaps, with time, we could reach more merchants and buy advanced models," Pana said as Trent approached. The indigenes of the clan were either roaming outside in the darkness, engaged in their daily activities, or peeking from their homes.

Trent tapped Pana on the shoulder. The massive minotaur towered over him. "It's great. After all, I hadn't seen anything like this here until I arrived. So, it's an upgrade for you guys," Trent replied, running his hand over the frame and bumper of the carriage.

Pana's expression soured, and he quickly turned away. "I was asking about you, not for us—" he paused midway, deciding it was best not to lose his cool over Trent again.

Trent noticed that the dwarf was already in the carriage, fast asleep on what appeared to be leather seats. He banged on the bumper to wake him up and scolded him sharply. "What about the Darth Lieutenant?" Trent asked Pana. "Anyone here strong enough to keep him chained? Because once we leave, my Essence will disperse, won't it?"

The Darth Lieutenant, whom Trent had harmed during the inn fight, was still alive and had been held captive until now.

Pana rolled his eyes and motioned for a dark elf male to hop into the cockpit and ready the carriage and basilisks. "You might as well kill him. I won't care."

Trent had noticed that all the other indigenes wanted the Darth Lieutenant—and even the dwarf—dead. They really despised anything related to the Darth Society. And if he let the Darth go, the lieutenant would surely bring this clan to the Society's attention, even though Zhen, the she-devil, likely already had by now.

As Trent was entering the carriage, he called over a male juvenile devil. "Tell the brown elf to never leave the room, you hear me?" Trent ordered, placing a gem in the little devil's palm. The devil's eyes lit up as he quickly scurried off to fulfil the order.

"You all can do what you want with the Darth," Trent announced to the gathering crowd.

"Vortaal!!!" they screamed in unison, manifesting weapons with excitement. Trent almost felt pity for the Darth Lieutenant but pushed the thought aside. He needed to keep this clan happy, especially if he planned on expanding it.

Trent shut the wide door of the carriage and settled into the black leather seats. The elf driver leaned over, giving a subtle tap to the backs of the two basiliks, which lunged forward with terrifying speed. Trent wondered about the elf's role—perhaps he could connect with the Mana in these mythical creatures and control them telepathically? A Manifestation of his?

Trent relaxed, preparing for the journey ahead. To pass the time, he decided to inspect the #1 ranked player's gameplay from his holo-watch.