The neon glow of late-night New York City was a cold counterpoint to the raging fire Jera felt in his soul. He didn't have a plan, but he had something infinitely more valuable: resources.
He stood in a dark, grimy alleyway near the edge of the Hunter District, the location a safe distance from the Hunter Bureau's main headquarters. The Bureau would be in lockdown, scrambling to cover up the "disaster" at The Scrapyard, trying to rationalize the sudden disappearance of a mid-level manager (Markos Vance, who was now likely facing a severe disciplinary review) and the terrifying, miraculous survival of a dead miner. They wouldn't trace Jera Murphy. Not yet.
He needed a new name, new identity, and untraceable capital.
He focused on his Unlimited Inventory. It wasn't just a void; it was a perfectly organized, categorized, and static space. The multiplied gear from the dead Goliath Hunters, the 24 sets of C-Rank armor, were listed neatly. More importantly, the Ferrum-E Ore haul—1,000 units of it—represented a massive, liquid asset.
He pulled out one unit of the ore. It appeared instantly in his hand, a heavy, dull-grey chunk of metal. He could sell this single unit legally for 50,000 credits on the open market. But 1,000 units would crash the local market and immediately draw the scrutiny of every major Guild and the Bureau's financial crimes division.
Jera needed the Shadow Market—the black hole of the dungeon economy where questions were never asked, and money was made in untraceable data-chips.
He contacted a minor Aether-broker he'd heard whispered about during his miner days, a contact known only as "The Gimp," using an anonymous burner comm he'd pulled from his multiplied inventory. The Gimp specialized in buying sudden, large hauls of low-grade ore without paperwork.
Fifteen minutes later, Jera sat across from a jittery man in a cheap synth-suit at a dilapidated ramen stall. The Gimp's eyes darted nervously, tracking every shadow.
"You the guy with the Ferrum-E?" The Gimp's voice was a strained whisper.
Jera didn't speak. He reached into the air and deposited ten large chunks of the Ferrum-E ore onto the counter. The metal appeared with a heavy thud, making the noodles jump. The Gimp's eyes widened, recognizing the density and quality of the raw ore.
"Ten units... that's a haul, but the market's tight, man. I can do 40,000 a unit, cash or untraceable chip. That's 400,000 credits right now."
Jera leaned in, his multiplied power radiating a subtle, cold pressure that made the broker sweat. "I have not ten, but five hundred units I need liquidated by dawn."
The Gimp choked on a mouthful of ramen. "Five—five hundred? Sir, that's impossible. I don't have that kind of capital. No one on my tier does. You'll bring down the heat, man! That's twenty-five million credits worth of ore!"
Jera pulled out the last unit of Ferrum-E he'd extracted—the one that had been multiplied by $\times 1000$. He didn't put it on the counter; he held it loosely in his palm.
"I need two things, Gimp," Jera stated, his voice flat and commanding. "One: a new identity. Complete digital ghost. Name: Cain Walker. Two: the name of a bank, a Guild, or a powerful broker who deals in multi-million credit, high-grade, no-questions-asked liquidity."
He then did something no Miner should be able to do. He slowly squeezed the chunk of Ferrum-E in his hand. The metal, harder than titanium alloy, compressed, whining under the immense, multiplied pressure.
The Gimp stared, utterly paralyzed by the impossible feat. He saw the cold, terrifying ease with which this man—this miner—was casually crushing wealth in his hand.
"J-J-Jera Murphy... no, Cain Walker," the broker stammered, his mind racing to process the terrifying new reality. "The man you need... he's in Sector Gamma. The Crimson Guild's fence. He's called 'The Vault.' They deal in S-Rank artifacts. They might handle... twenty-five million. They might just kill you, too."
"The risk is mine," Jera said. He released the ore, which sprang back to its original shape, untouched by the pressure. He placed the ten units on the counter. "Four hundred thousand for the immediate ID setup and a secure contact to The Vault. We meet in two hours. Do not disappoint me."
He vanished into the shadows, leaving The Gimp staring at the ramen, the money, and the absolute certainty that he had just met the most terrifying, powerful individual in the entire New York Shadow Market.
With a new, freshly created, and untraceable digital ID bearing the name Cain Walker, Jera needed to do more than simply sell multiplied ore. He needed to accelerate his personal power.
His Status Interface now showed a Level of 49, a result of the multiplied experience from the first chapter's encounter, but he knew the number was misleading. His stats—Strength, Agility, Mana, and Endurance—were already well above a low-tier Hunter, but they needed to be multiplied with pure, raw Experience and Loot.
He needed a dungeon. But not a corporate-owned, monitored dungeon like The Scrapyard. He needed an Unregistered Rift.
Jera took a subway line outside the Hunter jurisdiction, heading toward the forgotten industrial districts of old Brooklyn. His System, his internal radar of anomalies, began to thrum with intense activity.
He exited the subway at a derelict station that smelled of rust and ozone. Following the System's directional cues, he found a collapsed portion of the tunnel, covered in spray-painted warnings that were clearly ignored.
[Unregistered Rift Detected. Rank: D- to C- fluctuation. Danger Level: Moderate.]
The rift was a shimmer in the air, a tear in reality the size of a manhole, disguised by a heavy layer of graffiti. He stepped through, leaving the noise of the city behind.
The air on the other side was sterile and cold, smelling of minerals and electricity. This was a classic Monolith Dungeon: a low-tier realm where monsters were born from the crystalline structure of the dimension itself. The floor was rough-hewn quartz, and the walls pulsed with dim, internal light.
Jera's purpose was singular: Kill, Multiply, Evolve.
He walked deeper, drawing the C-Rank combat knife from his infinite inventory. He had multiplied it in the previous chapter, making the original three knives twenty-four. Now, one was in his hand.
The first sound was a skittering. Three crystalline insectoids, Quartz Crawlers, emerged from a narrow fissure, their bodies reflecting the dungeon's light. They were D-Rank monsters, usually requiring a small squad of low-level Hunters to dispatch safely.
They lunged.
Jera didn't need to dodge. His multiplied Agility and Strength made the Crawlers move in painful slow motion. He sliced the first one in half with a single, effortless strike.
[Monster Kill: Quartz Crawler (D-Rank). Experience Multiplier Roll: $\times 84$.]
[Result: Experience +840. Loot Multiplier Roll: $\times 111$.]
[Loot: Quartz Shard (D-Grade) $\times 111$. Now entering Unlimited Inventory.]
The second and third Crawlers died instantly, cut down before they could land a scratch. The click of the System's notification was the sweetest sound Jera had ever heard.
[Level Up! Jera Murphy is now Level 50!]
[Level Up! Jera Murphy is now Level 51!]
Jera felt the raw, multiplied experience surge into his core, solidifying his gains. He wasn't gaining a level at a time; he was vaulting over them. The Quartz Shards, normally minor crafting materials, now represented hundreds of thousands of credits worth of loot, safely tucked away.
He continued his rampage, moving through the narrow tunnels like a ghost. He wasn't fighting; he was harvesting.
Kill. Roll. Multiply. Store. Repeat.
The flow of power was intoxicating.
Jera reached a large cavern at the dungeon's heart, a circular chamber dominated by a single, massive crystal formation. Standing guard was the dungeon's mid-boss: a Crystalline Sentinel.
This C-Rank monster was a humanoid construct of dense quartz, about ten feet tall, its face a blank, glowing surface. It carried a crystalline greatsword and moved with powerful, rhythmic steps. It was a serious threat, even for a certified B-Rank Hunter.
The Sentinel roared, its voice a grinding sound of crystal against crystal, and swung its greatsword. The strike carved a trench across the quartz floor, releasing a plume of mana dust.
Jera met the attack head-on. He didn't use the C-Rank knife this time. He relied solely on his multiplied stats.
[Action: Physical Counter-Attack (Unarmed). Strength Multiplier Roll: $\times 964$.]
[Endurance Multiplier Roll (Damage Reduction): $\times 788$.]
The Sentinel's sword connected, but the multiplied Endurance meant the attack felt like a heavy punch, not a lethal strike. Jera's retaliation, however, was devastating.
He slammed his fist directly into the Sentinel's crystalline torso. The force, multiplied nearly a thousand times, bypassed the Sentinel's natural crystalline armor and hit its core.
The Crystalline Sentinel didn't just break; it imploded. The air filled with thousands of tiny, diamond-hard shards of quartz, which scattered everywhere.
[Monster Kill: Crystalline Sentinel (C-Rank Mid-Boss). Experience Multiplier Roll: $\times 1000$.]
[Result: Experience +10,000. Loot Multiplier Roll: $\times 999$.]
[Level Up! Jera Murphy is now Level 55!]
[Loot: Sentinel Core (C-Grade Artifact) $\times 999$. Now entering Unlimited Inventory.]
Jera gasped, not from exhaustion, but from the dizzying, sheer volume of the experience and loot. He had just acquired nearly a thousand C-Grade artifacts, which would be instantly recognizable and worth a fortune. His body pulsed with the raw energy of five levels gained in one strike.
The System, recognizing the immense, chaotic influx of of energy, reacted again.
[System Emergency Protocol: Random Skill Generation Initiated.]
[Skill Generator Rolling: 1-100.]
[Roll Result: 97. Skill: Mana Barrier (A-Rank Defensive Skill).]
[Skill Multiplication Roll: $\times 512$.]
[Result: Skill Acquired: Mana Barrier (A-Rank) L1 $\times 512$. Skill is now: Aetheric Shield (S-Rank) L512.]
Jera's mind was instantly flooded with the complex, intricate knowledge of the S-Rank defensive skill Aetheric Shield. It wasn't just a barrier; it was the ability to weave raw, ambient mana into an instantaneous, near-impenetrable wall of pure force. And he had it at Level 512, a mastery that would take an S-Rank Hunter decades of intense training to achieve.
He was no longer just a strong hunter. He was becoming a magic engine.
Jera smiled, a genuine, chilling smile of satisfaction. His rise wasn't simply fast; it was supersonic.
Jera spent the next hour performing a total "clean sweep" of the Monolith Dungeon. Using his Aetheric Shield for defense and his multiplied strength for offense, he systematically wiped out every single creature and extracted every single vein of ore.
When he stepped back through the rift, closing it mentally and sealing it with the Aetheric Shield just to ensure no trace remained, he stood in the forgotten subway tunnel a completely different man.
Jera Murphy/Cain Walker Status:
Level: 62 Skill: Aetheric Shield (S-Rank, L512) Inventory: Filled with millions of credits worth of multiplied, untraceable loot. Mana Core: Stable and surging, capable of sustaining massive energy output.
It was time to meet "The Vault."
He arrived at the designated location: an unmarked industrial warehouse near the docks. The meeting was hostile from the start.
He was met by two massive, scarred men—security for The Crimson Guild. They frisked him, their hands finding only the single, C-Rank combat knife. They laughed at his cheap miner's clothes.
"The Vault will see the 'Miracle Miner' now," one of them sneered, ushering him into a massive, heavily guarded room.
The room was opulent, furnished with artifacts clearly scavenged from high-tier dungeons. The Vault was a lean, intense man in an expensive suit, sitting behind a desk made of magically preserved Wyvern bone.
"Cain Walker," The Vault said, his voice a smooth, dangerous silk. "You claimed to have twenty-five million credits worth of Ferrum-E and a secret source. I'm going to assume you're not a total idiot, so you have five seconds to explain why I shouldn't have my boys put a bullet in your head, take your ten units, and dump the rest of your fictional ore in the harbor."
Jera didn't flinch. He walked up to the Wyvern-bone desk and, without a word, reached into his Inventory.
He didn't pull out Ferrum-E. He pulled out Sentinel Cores.
He placed ten of the glowing, softball-sized C-Rank artifacts on the table. Each core was worth several hundred thousand credits, and The Vault would immediately recognize their source—a highly dangerous Monolith Dungeon.
The Vault's eyes widened, recognizing the pure, volatile mana signature.
"C-Rank Cores," he whispered. "Fresh. Ten of them. Where did you get this haul, Walker?"
Jera leaned over the desk, his presence radiating the cold, quiet dominance of his multiplied power.
"I have not ten, Vault. I have nine hundred and ninety-nine."
The Vault stopped breathing. Nine hundred and ninety-nine C-Rank artifacts from a single haul was not luck; it was a dimensional anomaly. Only the most powerful S-Ranks, often using massive Guild resources, could achieve such a feat.
"A thousand cores," The Vault breathed, suddenly realizing the scale of the power sitting across from him. "Untraceable, high-value assets. You want liquidity."
"I want three things," Jera said, maintaining his intense focus. "One: Full, anonymous conversion of all 999 Sentinel Cores and 500 Ferrum-E units into untraceable credits. Two: A secure, high-end, underground apartment in a prime Hunter district. Three: The latest, highest-grade Dungeon Miner's Rig on the market. I want the best tech available for clearing low-tier zones."
The Vault, recognizing the impossible genius of the deal—a low-grade Miner's Rig to disguise S-Rank power—nodded slowly.
"You're a genius, Walker. You want to move like a rat while sitting on a dragon's hoard. Done. I'll pay you 80% market value for the cores, and 90% for the ore. Total liquidity: 350 million credits. The apartment and gear are yours. You'll be sitting pretty. But know this, Walker: the moment the Bureau realizes who you are, they'll hunt you for the instability you represent."
"Let them hunt," Jera said, a dangerous flicker in his eyes. "I'm not interested in stability. I'm interested in multiplication."
He shook The Vault's hand—a terrifying gesture of pure power to which The Vault immediately submitted—and walked out a multi-millionaire, fully equipped, and completely unknown.
Three hours later, as the dawn light painted the New York skyline in shades of grey and gold, Cain Walker stood in his new, fully automated apartment overlooking the city.
He wasn't sitting on his fortune. He was investing it—in the tools he needed for maximum efficiency. His first purchase was the high-end DM-100 Mining Rig—a pressurized suit, specialized jackhammer, and reinforced stabilization gear. It was the perfect disguise. He looked like an ambitious B-Rank miner, while secretly wielding the power of a Level 62 S-Rank.
He strapped on the suit and checked his system.
[Status Interface - Jera Murphy (Alias: Cain Walker)]
Attribute
Base Value
Multiplier Boost
Effective Value
Level
62
N/A
62
Strength
100+
$\times 964$ (Approx)
Immeasurable
Agility
100+
$\times 713$ (Approx)
Immeasurable
Mana
100+
$\times 960$ (Approx)
Immeasurable
Endurance
100+
$\times 788$ (Approx)
Immeasurable
Luck
N/A
$\infty$/Unknown
N/A
Skills
Rank
Level
Effect
Mana Absorption
N/A
L9
$\times 612$ Mana Intake
Improvised Weapon Mastery
N/A
L7856
Multiplied weapon proficiency
Language of the Forgotten
N/A
L912
Ancient language comprehension
Aetheric Shield
S-Rank
L512
Mana Barrier $\times 512$
He was ready. He was rich. He was strong.
He looked out the window at the distant, shimmering energy field that marked the boundary of a massive, Guild-controlled dungeon known as The Ironworks.
He knew the low-tier rubble zones there were heavily monitored, but the loot was constant, and the monsters were weak. It was the perfect, low-risk environment for high-rate multiplication.
Jera smiled, the look completely devoid of emotion. He was going back to work—but this time, not as the pathetic victim.
He was going as the Multiplier.
"Time for the second descent," he murmured, his voice echoing slightly in the sealed miner's helmet. "This time, I'm not salvaging rubble. I'm going to multiply a legend."
He walked toward the transport bay, disappearing into the city toward the next, more aggressive stage of his power acquisition.