"[Time Remaining: 4 days 19 hours 43 minutes 17 seconds]"
The blue clock in the corner of my vision continued its cold, rhythmic countdown. A few hours had passed since I'd consumed the Core of the Willow Tree. The fatigue from my marathon gaming session hadn't just vanished, it had been replaced by a hum of raw, predatory energy. Every muscle felt coiled, every sense sharpened.
I didn't waste time celebrating. I headed straight for the heart of the city: the Phoenix Hall of Museum and Library. It was a massive, sprawling complex that housed the world's third-largest library and a collection of antiquities that would make any historian weep.
In my years of scouring Xeddit threads and digging through the Nexus source code, I'd noticed a pattern. The developers were obsessed with mythology. Many of the game's artifacts weren't just random pixels; they were digital echoes of real-world history. Now that the Tower was real, the Mana wavelengths were bleeding into our reality, "awakening" the objects that shared a conceptual link with the Tower's database.
A museum wasn't just a building anymore. It was a gold mine of dormant items.
As I approached the Phoenix Hall, the "civilized" world ended. It looked like a war zone. Smoke billowed from overturned buses, and the pavement was stained with blood. But the most telling signs weren't the goblin tracks, it was the human ones. Spent shell casings, shattered glass, and bodies with knives in their backs.
This was exactly why I'd prioritized the Willow Core. I wasn't the only one who had put two and two together. Former players, history buffs, and desperate opportunists were already crawling over the city. I might have cleared Floor 100 in the ghost-server days, but starting the Tutorial in a crowded room was a different beast. Arrogance is a luxury for those who don't mind dying. I minded.
I slipped through the shattered main gates. Inside, the grand lobby was a circus of greed. A group of men were brawling over a glass case containing a medieval longsword, swearing and clawing at each other like rabid dogs. It was a pathetic sight—men who had been "respectable" citizens hours ago were now tearing each other apart over a Rank-E decorative blade.
I didn't even slow down. I let them fight.
I moved through the halls like a shadow, ignoring the empty display cases and broken pedestals. The "pro" players had already been here, snatching up the obvious stuff, swords, spears, and ornate shields. They were looking for weapons. I was looking for components.
In a quiet, dusty corner of the East Wing, I found what I was looking for. No one had touched it. Why would they? It was a D-Rank 'Bronze Tripod Cauldron'. To a normal player, it was a heavy, useless piece of cookware that only served to make stew taste better.
I reached out and gripped the cool, oxidized metal. Just as my fingers closed around the handle, the air behind my neck turned cold.
My body moved before my brain did. I spun, a blade whistling past my ear so close I could hear the sing of the steel.
"[Congratulations! You have dodged a Fatal Attack.]"
"[Notice: You have unlocked the hidden stat: [Gap].]"
"[Notice: You have obtained +1 Rift Point.]"
I skidded back, my heart hammering against my ribs. A new series of notifications flooded my vision, pulsing with a sharp, electric white light.
"[Notice: For every dodge from an enemy attack, you will obtain Rift Points depending on the 'close-call' level of the said attack. Obtain 100 Rift Points to permanently increase all your stats by +3.]"
"[Notice: Gap is a hidden stat that will allow you to fight opponents much stronger than yourself as the Rift Points increase! Congratulations on finding the Hidden Stat. All the best!]"
I looked up. Standing there was a man in tactical gear, his eyes wide with surprise that he'd missed.
I didn't look at his face. I looked at the knife in his hand, then back at my cauldron. A slow, dangerous grin spread across my face. I needed 99 more "close calls" to get another massive stat boost, and this guy was volunteering to help.
"Nice swing," I said, hefting the heavy bronze pot. "Want to try again?"