Salty Homecoming

─┈━═[World Announcement!]═━┈─

Player Hashwalker has become the first player to travel to a new city.

City: Ramo

Country: Markov

Planet: Ryker

Their achievement has made history and will get recorded in the Myriad Record for all eternity.

─┈━═━┈━═━┈━═━┈─

-

"What?" Grey asked in annoyance, sitting in his seat in the skycruiser. "What is a player doing there already? They better not advertise the Twisted District or I'll order a hit on him."

Once the skycruiser took flight, Mark turned to the teen with a rapidly beating heart.

"What the fuck was that!?" Mark cried, sweat pouring from his bald head. "What the hell did you just get us into!? You showed up with blood all over you, and the elite guards looked ready to murder everyone!"

Grey scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tossed the mercenary a medal. "This is the Ridgemont Heights medallion. I'm a welcome guest; therefore, you're welcome by association.

Now pull out your credit chips; I have your rewards as promised."

The mercenaries looked at each other stunned but complied.

Mark handed his credit chip, which looked like a poker chip, to Grey.

-

┌─┈━═[Mark Samson's Credit Chip]═━┈─┐

Transfer Funds

[Hack]

[Corrupt]

═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═

-

Grey grinned when he saw the grayed-out options below transferring. However, he transferred funds with his thoughts and handed them back to the man.

The mercenary's eyes went blank for a moment before accepting as if nothing was weird about not using the tap-to-transfer system.

Then he checked his account, and his face filled with panic.

"W-Wait!" Mark cried in disbelief. "Did you mean to transfer…."

"50,000 zecta?" Grey smiled. "If so, yes. I told you that you'd get well rewarded."

All the mercenaries were stunned beyond belief. They could buy a skycruiser for 50,000 zecta!

"I...." the bald man swallowed nervously. "Don't know how to accept this yet also find it impossible to decline. Why have you done this? Surely you have something you want."

"Waiting for me earned me great wealth and saved me considerable trouble," Grey replied seriously. "This is your share of the prosperity your loyalty wrought.

Now, please pull out your chips and navigate to Markov Military Base. I need a new set of clothing and gear before going to the Twisted District tomorrow. Naturally, I'll require protection then, too."

Mark's gratitude turned to fear. "S-Sir… Someone your age will get kidnapped before explaining their intentions in the Twisted District—especially if they're wealthy or well connected."

"That's what the term [require protection] stems from," Grey scoffed mockingly. "But first, we'll need to get you better gear and weapons."

The mercenaries stared at him in disbelief. Everyone abruptly understood that the teen paid them well for a reason—to build loyalty so they wouldn't sell him to slave traders.

It was a brilliant move to an insane plan.

***

-

┌─┈━═[Live Stream]═━┈─┐

Welcome to Live Stream, Greed!

Record

…

Please Choose Your Stream Title

-

Name: Reaction! Greed's Salty Homecoming

-

Description: Greed is a winner who became a multi-millionaire five hours after launch. Watch throngs of salty people accuse him of cheating and try killing him out of jealousy.

-

Would you like to start the stream? [Yes/No]

Live stream initiated.

3…

2…

1…

You are live!

─┈━═━┈━═━┈━═━┈─

-

Grey watched the stream countdown in amusement, overseeing the blood clot of players congealed around the sky cab rental office. Each was waiting impatiently for skycruisers.

"Hey! It's him!" Someone yelled.

"Who?"

"Greed!"

"No fucking way! Let's teach that mother fucker—"

**BOOOOM!**

An abnormally loud bang shot off in the area alongside a massive flash of light, and the sound of dozens of dropping bodies immediately followed.

It was a flash bang, which destabilized all the players trying to gain their center of balance, hearing, and vision. Naturally, the teen wasn't affected, as he wore a sound and lightproof helmet in anticipation of the attack.

Three dozen troops fired warning shots around the mob, and snipers took aim.

"Wow, the rental service provides better protection than I thought," Grey grinned.

"No, this isn't normal," Mark replied, shaking his head. "Whatever you did triggered a wave of clients, selling out our service for a week in advance with non-refundable deposits.

You made this business a lot of money, so we're repaying the favor in kind."

"Excellent," the teen smiled in satisfaction. "I'm glad our relationship is mutually beneficial.

If extra guards are available, we'll need help getting to the base's armory. I'll pay, of course."

"We'll make it happen...." the mercenary swallowed nervously, casually walking past the disoriented players, facing the barrels of guns with fearful faces. "Will it be this bad?"

"Oh, Mark," Grey chuckled. "I'll be worse. So much worse."

***

Blood-soaked and victorious, the teen strode confidently into the gates of Markov Military Base, sporting a smug grin and proudly displaying his Level 0 marker as proof he had bypassed training.

While thousands tried to find him when he left, everyone was silent this time around. It wasn't that they were star-struck. No, it was because he walked in, surrounded by a small platoon of twenty armed guards, rifles drawn. He was a walking porcupine of death!

Major Mann's eyes widened in disbelief upon recognizing Greed, who had left at noon with a mere 250 zecta and returned with an armed platoon by sunset. "Y-You're Greed, right? Did you go to Ridgemont Heights?"

"I did," Grey smiled casually.

Upon hearing his confirmation, the crowd erupted, recognizing the infamous Greed and removing the [???] above his head.

-

"See, he did go!"

"That's Greed!"

"What? Woah, it's really him!"

-

"T-Thank goodness you're alive!" Major Mann gasped. "But, we can no longer permit you into the base. It's against the law, in a way, for commoners to visit Ridgemont Heights."

"Oh, I don't think that's an issue," Grey smirked, tossing a medallion to the Major, who inspected it with wide eyes.

-

"That's right! It's illegal!"

"He broke the rules, even in the game!"

"Figures! I didn't expect anything less."

-

All the players went wild again, snickering that the teen got kicked out of the base as the man examined the medal with wide eyes.

"Soldiers, Transmigrator Greed is a Class-3 individual at this base now!" Major Mann yelled at the top of his lungs, triggering whistles and laughter.

"You hear that, you fucking cheater!?" Triple Threat, the pudgy teen that declared war on Grey before he left, laughed, walking up to the sound of excited whispering. "That means you need to leave this property. And do you know what that means? It means that I'll be waiting outside to rip your fucking—"

THUD!

Before he could finish, two soldiers grabbed him, grinding his cheek against asphalt and holding rifles to his face. "Transmigrator Greed is under Markov Military Base's protection!" Major Mann shouted. "Transmigrator or not, anyone attacking him on or off the base will face martial law, expulsion, or death! Cuff this one and throw the book at him to make an example!"

Handcuffed, Triple Threat glared at Greed, attempting to convey his fury. But as Grey mockingly blew a kiss, the onlookers erupted in cheers and chatter, leaving Triple Threat utterly humiliated.

"P-Please forgive me, Greed," Major Mann said, groveling with his eyes. "Knowing the elites in Ridgemont Heights, you surely understand our position."

"Certainly, Major," Greed replied, smiling. "I take no offense. Could you escort me to purchase clothing and then to the internal armory?"

Swallowing hard, Major Mann hesitated. "I can take you there; they'll determine whether you're eligible to buy items… is that acceptable?"

"Of course," the teen smiled. "Please lead the way."

***

"The limitations imposed on weapons and equipment practically negate their value," Greed muttered, strolling through the Markov Military Base inn's halls.

Mark's eyes widened as he inspected his special forces plasma rifle, its heavy black metal and glowing heat vents radiating power and death. It was powerful, but the frustrated teen insisted that the restrictions on trading high-level gear made them nearly worthless.

"I see…" Mark responded uneasily. "Regardless, it should suffice for our mission. I'm glad you acquired that equipment."

Grey donned a black suit capable of withstanding a standard laser shot, bullet, or shrapnel, though a direct hit would still injure him, and the suit couldn't handle multiple strikes.

"I hope so," he said, entering his room. "Being this vulnerable is a pain. Anyway, meet me here tomorrow at noon."

Before the mercenaries could object, the teen closed the door and lay on the bed.

-

═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═

Are you sure you would like to log out? [Yes/No]

═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═─┈─═

-

Grey mentally selected "yes" and read the logout statement. Removing his headset, he picked up his encrypted smart device and sent a message.

—

Tommy Lycan: The don is pleased with your progress. He didn't expect you to make money today, let alone the amount you earned. Good work.

You: It was my pleasure. I'll check in tomorrow.

—

Grey gazed at the screen for a moment before setting his phone down and sinking into the luxurious bed.

"I wish I could sleep," he sighed. "But it's time to study the Twisted District and memorize the quest details until they're second nature."