Chapter 1: The Awakening
The mahogany desk gleamed under the warm glow of the brass banker's lamp, its surface reflecting the last traces of afternoon sunlight that filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Solomon's home office.
The room still carried the lingering scent of expensive cologne and the faint metallic tang of stress that always accompanied his business meetings.
His leather chair, still warm from the three-hour negotiation that had just concluded, creaked softly as he leaned back, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Solomon rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar knot of tension that formed between his brows after particularly challenging meetings. His throat felt parched, and muscle memory urged him toward the small kitchenette at the corner of his office, where his expensive espresso machine waited like a faithful companion.
But today, something held him frozen in place.
It hung there in the air before him, translucent and shimmering like heat waves rising from summer asphalt. The panel floated at perfect eye level, its edges defined by a subtle blue luminescence that pulsed gently, almost like a heartbeat.
The surface appeared to be made of crystalline glass, yet it cast no shadow on the rug beneath his feet. Text scrolled across its surface in elegant, futuristic font that seemed to burn itself into his retinas.
Solomon blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut until colored spots danced behind his lids. When he opened them again, the panel remained, as persistent as his own reflection in a mirror. He had awakened to find it there at dawn, hovering silently beside his bed like some digital specter. Now, nearly twelve hours later, it showed no signs of fading.
"This is impossible," he whispered to the empty room, his voice hoarse from the morning's presentations. The words felt heavy in the still air, competing with the distant hum of his home's central air system and the muffled sounds of traffic from the street below.
His mind raced through rational explanations. Stress-induced hallucinations? A brain tumor pressing against his optical cortex? Perhaps he had finally succumbed to the pressure of running a multinational corporation at twenty-eight, his psyche fracturing under the weight of endless responsibility. But the panel felt too real, too detailed, too consistent to be a mere figment of his imagination.
Solomon's fingers drummed against the desk's surface a nervous habit he'd developed during his university days. The rhythmic tapping echoed in the quiet room as memories flooded back: late nights in his dorm room, laptop screen glowing as he devoured web novels instead of studying for his CS finals.
He remembered the guilty pleasure of losing himself in stories of ordinary people suddenly thrust into extraordinary circumstances, their lives forever changed by mysterious systems and supernatural abilities.
"Golden fingers," he murmured, using the term he'd learned from countless Chinese web novels. The phrase felt foreign on his tongue after so many years in the corporate world, where fantasy had been replaced by balance sheets and profit margins.
But this was Earth mundane, predictable Earth. He possessed no memories of past lives, no recollections of heroic deeds or tragic deaths. He was [[Solomon Ulad]], son of immigrants, self-made millionaire, and decidedly ordinary human being. The appearance of what looked suspiciously like a system interface in his perfectly normal reality defied everything he understood about the world.
"But I can't confirm it until I get something tangible," he said aloud, his voice gaining strength as he voiced his thoughts.
Rising from his chair, Solomon walked to the window, his Italian leather shoes silent on the thick carpet. The city sprawled below him, a tapestry of steel and glass under the late afternoon sun.
Somewhere out there, millions of people went about their lives, blissfully unaware that their understanding of reality might be fundamentally flawed. He pulled out his phone, its screen bright against his palm, and opened his browser.
For the past hour, he had scoured the internet with the dedication of a conspiracy theorist. Government cover-ups, unexplained phenomena, mysterious disappearances anything that might suggest the world harbored secrets beyond the mundane. But the search results yielded nothing but the usual mix of debunked hoaxes and sensationalized clickbait.
His reflection stared back at him from the window, superimposed over the city below. Despite his wealth and connections, he remained fundamentally powerless in the face of true governmental or military secrets.
He might have lunch with senators and dinner with CEOs, but the real puppet masters of the world remained as distant to him as they did to any ordinary citizen.
The phone felt warm in his hand as he scrolled through his contacts, finding his assistant's number. "[[Linda]]," he said when she answered, his voice carrying the authority that came naturally after years of leadership. "Cancel everything for today. Push all meetings to tomorrow, reschedule the dinner with the Yamamoto Group, and tell the team I'm taking a personal day."
"Of course, Mr. Solomon," came her professional reply, though he could hear the surprise in her voice. In five years of working together, he had never taken an unscheduled day off.
Ending the call, Solomon returned to his desk, settling back into his chair with the weight of decision. The panel still hovered before him, patient as a butler awaiting instructions. The text across its surface seemed to pulse with anticipation, and for the first time since its appearance, he felt ready to truly examine what it offered.
[[Dimensional Guild System]]
The name blazed across the top of the interface in bold, golden letters that seemed to shimmer with their own inner light. Below it, additional text appeared in smaller, more subdued font:
[[Guild Level]]: 0
Three tabs stretched across the panel's width like navigation buttons on a website: [[Chat]], [[Members]], and [[Shop]]. Each tab glowed with the same soft blue light as the panel's edges, and when Solomon focused on them, they seemed to pulse slightly, as if responding to his attention.
With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, he reached out tentatively toward the Chat tab. His finger passed through the panel's surface like it was made of mist, but somehow, impossibly, he felt a slight resistance, a subtle feedback that told him his touch had registered.
The interface shifted, revealing an empty chat window reminiscent of the messaging apps he used daily for business.
Suddenly, text began to appear, each line materializing with a soft chime that seemed to resonate directly in his mind:
[You joined the Dimensional Guild] [You are the first member to join] [You have been given the guild master position]
Solomon's breath caught in his throat before smiling, "Classic web novel setup."
His hand trembled slightly as he navigated to the Members tab. There, displayed in elegant script, was his own nickname "GeniusMillionaire" with two golden letters beside it: GM.
Below his name, a simple plus sign waited.
When he touched it, new text appeared:
[You have 4 personal invites. Do you want to use them?]
Next to the message, a small question mark icon beckoned. Solomon's finger hovered over it, his heart hammering against his ribs. When he finally made contact, additional information unfurled like a scroll:
[Personal Invite: You can invite any person across the multiverse to join the guild.]
Any person across the multiverse. The implications crashed over him like a tsunami, drowning his rationality in a flood of possibilities. Heroes from fiction, legends from myth, individuals whose very existence would shatter the foundations of everything he thought he knew about reality.
"This is so vague," he whispered, his voice barely audible above his pulse. "Any person across the multiverse... usually in novels it's random, but I get to choose who I invite?"
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite his fear. After years of reading stories where protagonists were at the mercy of capricious systems, he had been granted something far more precious: choice.
With growing excitement, Solomon explored the remaining features of the interface. The Shop tab revealed itself to be not a traditional system store filled with magical items and abilities, but rather a trading platform designed to facilitate exchanges between guild members. It was empty now, waiting for members to populate it with their own unique offerings.
Solomon leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with possibilities.
The normal world he had known for twenty-eight years had just revealed itself to be anything but normal. Somewhere out there, across the vast expanse of the multiverse, four individuals were waiting to receive invitations that would change everything.
If you want any of your favourite characters to join, leave a comment, and I'll consider it. Other than that, it will be great if you leave a review/Power Stones.