The rewrite glitch was more widespread than Acre first thought.
Not only could he edit information on his profile page, he could also tweak his privilege page, rename items in his inventory, and even change his credit count.
It would've been world-breaking—if it weren't purely cosmetic.
Yes, he could edit the data, but the changes were only skin-deep.
His first instinct was to add a new designation—E-Rank Militiaman. But no rifle appeared in his inventory, and no new permissions popped up in his privileges.
Then he tried inflating his credit balance. He turned his measly funds into seven digits and strutted into the marketplace the next day.
But the illusion shattered fast. Even as his credit counter showed a fortune, his purchases stopped once his real credits ran out.
Disappointing, but fair. Changing reality meant hacking into the Imperium's central databases—and the glitch in his device was clearly local.
Acre was dejected. He'd thought he'd found a shortcut to the stars. The idea of rewriting reality with his fingertips… it was too good to be true.
He was already at the gate of the node center, on his way home with drooped shoulders, when he suddenly stopped.
His head turned toward the marketplace. A thought settled in his mind. Risky, yes—but it could work.
His inventory could duplicate anything. The problem was, he was a Scavenger. He could only sell scrap.
But what if he could actually be a merchant? Even just in name?
Acre opened his profile page and typed:
"Partition Trader (D)"
Then he pulled out his trade tablet and wrote a sample offer:
[Scavenger - Acre Garrison (ID: F-SCV-3-113-26-1039)]
Trade Offer:
Offered: 3rd Grade Cactus Fruit x100
Requested: 500 Credits
It failed. The trade offer went through, but the designation and ID still showed his real status.
That's when he understood. The designation slots were hard-coded. Adding a new one didn't generate a matching Designation Code field—and the two came hand in hand.
He was about to give up, but decided to try one last experiment. If adding didn't work, what if he just edited his actual designation and its code?
He changed both, then typed out another trade offer:
[Partition Trader - Acre Garrison (ID: D-MRCH-3-113-26-106)
Trade Offer:
Offered: 3rd Grade Cactus Fruit x100
Requested: 500 Credits]
Acre grinned.
Passersby gave him strange looks as he struggled to hold back his excitement. Now all that was left was to decide if he was really ready to commit identity theft.
Just yesterday, he was a law-abiding citizen. And now, he was about to perform his second criminal act.
He thought about his life—his empty credit purse, his dead-end designation—and that thought alone steeled him.
"Screw it," he muttered under his breath, and marched back toward the marketplace.
Security drones hummed overhead. Their red lenses swept over the crowd in slow, mechanical arcs.
The deeper he went, the more claustrophobic the air became—warm breath, rust, oil smoke, and the faint reek of unwashed clothes.
The food district was alive and loud. Vendors barked prices over one another, trading tablets flashed green and red, and the constant clinking of digital credit transfers played like rain.
Most stalls sold cactus fruit, the food of the poor. Five credits a piece—cheap enough to live, not cheap enough to save.
Rat meat was stacked in neat, greasy slabs. Domesticated, bred, and butchered. The smell was almost bearable.
Acre caught sight of a merchant he often traded with—a kind old man who always slipped him a discount—and turned away. He couldn't afford to be remembered here. Not for this.
He headed deeper, into the off-world section, where the stalls were cleaner and the air felt heavier with money.
The vendors wore tailored coats and polished visors, and their smiles looked expensive. Most of these traders were E-Rank Node Merchants who bought from D-Rank Partition Traders — the exact role Acre was about to fake.
Acre slowed his pace. He could feel eyes following him now. His outfit—dust-streaked and patched—stood out like rust on chrome.
He kept walking. His pulse pounded in his ears.
Then someone called out to him.
"What do you want, boy?"
The voice came from his right. A woman in her thirties, lounging behind her stall. Dark hair tied in a sharp bun, a hint of smugness in the way her lip curled.
"Are you sure you're not lost?" she added, looking him up and down.
Acre met her gaze, his expression blank.
He walked toward her stall.
Her eyes narrowed, maybe surprised he didn't flinch.
The stall was small but organized. Two neat stacks of apples and oranges glistened under a dim heat lamp. And in the middle, something wrapped in shiny plastic.
He picked it up and read the label aloud.
"Asper's Chocolate Candy,"
He turned it in his fingers. Inside the wrap was a small, round piece that gave off a faintly sweet, almost luxurious smell.
"Put that back," the woman snapped. "You can't afford that. That's five hundred credits."
Acre raised an eyebrow. "Five hundred? For something this small?"
"For that," she said, tapping the candy's container. "Off-world import. You ever had one? Of course, you haven't."
Her tone made his skin itch.
He made a show of sighing and turning his hand as if to put it down. But between his fingers, the candy blinked out of existence, sliding into his inventory.
When he dropped his hand, he pulled it back out again—perfectly duplicated—and let it clink softly into the tray.
The woman didn't notice.
"I'm not here to buy," Acre said, voice calm. "I'm here to sell. I happen to have the same item."
The woman blinked, then burst out laughing.
"You?" she said between giggles. "You don't even look like a merchant. I haven't seen you here before either."
"I'm new. Got my implant a month ago. Naturally, you haven't seen me around." Acre replied.
Her laughter stopped. Her gaze hardened.
"Nice try, boy. You've got guts, I'll give you that. But I don't deal with pranksters."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Now get lost before the guards notice you loitering here."
Acre didn't move.
He pulled the candy out of his inventory and tore the wrapper open, popped it into his mouth.
Acre froze.
It was… divine. Smooth, rich, a thousand flavors blooming one after another. His throat tightened, eyes pricking with tears.
He'd never tasted anything so real.
He forced himself to chew slowly, swallowing his awe along with the candy.
"Are … are you ready to talk business now?" Acre finally managed to say to the stunned woman.