In the week that followed the dissemination of the OSE-Model 1 blueprint, the undercurrent of the war against the Abyss began to shift. It wasn't a seismic event felt by the general public, but for the independent hunter squads fighting and dying in the quarantine zones, it was nothing short of a revolution.
In a ruined parking garage in the outskirts of Nanjing, a grizzled hunter captain named "Old Croc" held up a crudely assembled OSE-1. His squad, the "Stray Dogs," watched with a mixture of hope and skepticism. They had lost two members to Shriekers last month. An hour later, they returned to their outpost, carrying the intact energy cores of three dead Shriekers, without a single scratch on them. Old Croc looked at the ugly plastic box in his hand as if it were a holy relic. The name "Oracle" was spoken with a hushed, reverent awe around their campfire that night.
In a bustling underground black market in Guangzhou, a shrewd entrepreneur had set up a small assembly line. He wasn't a hunter, but he was a businessman. He was mass-producing OSE-Model 1s, selling the "Oracle Boxes," as they were now called, for a modest profit. He couldn't keep up with the demand. He had inadvertently become an arms dealer in a war started by a ghost.
The power shift created resentment. In a contested zone near the coast, a well-equipped team from a minor guild, "Jade Falcon," found themselves pinned down by a pair of Shriekers. Their expensive, guild-issued sonic dampeners proved ineffective, merely muffling the deadly attack. As they prepared for their last stand, a smaller, ragged-looking independent squad appeared from a flank. The independents raised their ugly, homemade boxes, let out two high-frequency pulses, and the two Shriekers collapsed in unison. The Jade Falcon team could only stare in humiliated silence as the independent squad efficiently harvested the monster cores and gave them a mock salute before disappearing.
The legend of Oracle, the faceless benefactor, grew with each passing day. He was a ghost, a myth, a modern-day folk hero arming the common man against the encroaching darkness.
In the stark, digital silence of the [Channel: Zero], the three founding members of Project Zero gathered. A palpable sense of victory and anticipation filled the virtual space.
Nomad-Lead was the first to report, her text as crisp and professional as ever.
Nomad-Lead: Field report is conclusive. The OSE-1 has saturated the independent hunter market across all major sectors. Monitored casualty rates from Abyssal Shriekers have dropped by over 70%. The objective of the first directive has been achieved and exceeded.
Old-Man-Jiang added his analysis.
Old-Man-Jiang: The major guilds' attempts at suppression have failed spectacularly. The information spread too quickly through decentralized channels. They are now in damage control, trying to develop their own versions, but we beat them to it. Their authority has been publicly challenged.
Hephaestus chimed in with his usual grumble.
Hephaestus: I'm already seeing poorly made knock-offs of my design being sold on the black market. It's an insult to proper craftsmanship. But... they work. The core principle is too robust to be ruined even by shoddy soldering. The mission was a success.
They waited. The mood was optimistic. They had struck a major blow against both the Abyss and the corrupt guild system. They were eager for their next target. What new, world-changing secret would Oracle bestow upon them next? What new monster would they learn to conquer?
The Oracle username lit up, its presence instantly commanding their full attention.
Oracle: Reports acknowledged. The data confirms the success of phase one. It has served its purpose.
Its purpose? Lin Mei frowned. It had sounded like the beginning of a crusade, not a single, finished phase.
Oracle: Phase one was a gift. It was a demonstration of capability and a public declaration of our intent. Phase two is about establishing a sustainable and efficient operational model.
Hephaestus: Get to the point, Oracle. What's the new target?
Oracle: The target is a flawed system. The system of dependency. Knowledge is the single most valuable weapon in this war. Distributing it for free is a reckless waste. It breeds gratitude, but it does not cultivate strength or resourcefulness.
The three members read the lines in silence, a sense of confusion beginning to creep in.
Nomad-Lead: I don't understand. Are you saying... you won't be sharing information freely anymore? There are hunters out there who are alive today because of you.
Oracle: Your life was saved not by a gift, but by your willingness to take a calculated risk based on new intelligence. That is the quality I seek to cultivate.
Then, Oracle laid out the new world order.
Oracle: From this moment, this channel will operate on a system of contribution and exchange. I have established a secure network annex, The Archive. It will be populated with advanced blueprints, detailed enemy analyses, tactical doctrines, and other high-value intelligence.
Oracle: Access to The Archive will not be free. It will require a currency.
Hephaestus scoffed. Hephaestus: Currency? You want to be paid? After that whole speech about corporate greed?
Oracle: The currency is not monetary. It is 'Contribution Points'—CP. CP cannot be bought. It can only be earned.
Oracle: I will be posting Bounties. These are not simple kill contracts. They are strategic objectives: obtaining rare materials from specific Abyssal creatures, gathering intel from deep within Rift zones, retrieving lost technology. Completing these bounties will award CP.
Oracle: You will use your earned CP to 'purchase' data and blueprints from The Archive.
A profound silence descended upon the chat as the three members processed the sheer, ruthless brilliance of the plan.
Old-Man-Jiang was the first to grasp its full implications. A slow smile spread across his face in the real world. This wasn't a charity. This wasn't a rebellion. This was the foundation of a new, self-sustaining intelligence agency. Oracle wasn't just giving them fish; he was forcing them to become master fishermen, with him as the only one who knew where the best fishing spots were.
Old-Man-Jiang: You are not just building an army. You are building an economy of secrets. It is... a magnificent design.
To demonstrate, a new module appeared in their secure channel interface. It was a clean, simple board labeled [Bounty Board]. And on it, the first bounty had just been posted.
[BOUNTY POSTED: Tissue Sample Required - ID: 1001] [OBJECTIVE: Obtain a non-degraded, 50-gram tissue sample from the primary digestive organ of an Abyssal Devourer (Level 4 Threat).] [REWARD: 500 Contribution Points (CP)]
At the same time, another module, [The Archive], became accessible. It was mostly empty, but one item was listed.
[BLUEPRINT AVAILABLE: OSE-Model 2 (Armor-Piercing Variant)] [DESCRIPTION: An upgraded sonic emitter designed with a focused, narrow-beam frequency capable of causing structural failure in the chitinous armor of 'Crustacean-type' Abyssal creatures.] [COST: 300 CP]
The loop was perfect. The game was set.
Lin Mei felt a chill run down her spine. An Abyssal Devourer. It was a terrifying beast, a walking tank that could chew through spiritual shields. A mission to extract an internal organ from one was suicide for most squads. But 500 CP... enough to buy the OSE-2 blueprint and still have a hefty amount left over.
Hephaestus let out a low whistle in his workshop. An armor-piercing sonic weapon? The technical challenge was fascinating. He wanted that blueprint more than he wanted his next breath, just to see how Oracle had solved the frequency focusing problem.
They now understood. Oracle was not their benefactor. He was their commander, their supplier, and their sole client. He had provided the first taste for free. From now on, they had to earn their keep.
In his quiet bedroom, Qin Mo closed the connection. The foundation was laid. The system was self-perpetuating. The members now had a clear, powerful motivation to actively contribute, to hunt specific targets, to become his eyes, ears, and hands in the physical world.
He leaned back in his chair, the analytical part of his mind already calculating the probability of the bounty's success. He picked up his phone to check his messages. A reminder from his mother about buying soy sauce on his way home tomorrow. He then glanced at his digital wallet.
Balance: ¥150 (Approx. $20).
It was barely enough for his transportation and lunch for the rest of the month. He, the architect of a secret economy of immense value, was worried about his allowance. The irony was a familiar, almost comforting presence.
He put the phone down and pulled his physics textbook towards him. There was a major test tomorrow. It covered wave mechanics and resonance frequencies. A problem that, thanks to his recent "extracurricular activities," he now understood on a level his teacher could never possibly imagine.