Chapter 185

My heart dropped instantly. Why? Because I held a significant amount of Nemesis stock. Of course, it wasn’t an astronomical sum—just enough to summon NPCs or patch up boards—but given how expensive Nemesis shares had become recently, even that small number still represented hundreds of millions of won.

“What could it be? Did some scandal related to the monster situation break out?”

I could guess what might have happened. After all, monsters from games were invading reality, weren’t they? Moreover, many of them had already been identified as specific creatures from certain games.

To be honest, it wouldn’t be surprising if they’re venting their anger on us.

If this weren’t Earth-34, where game gods reigned supreme, the victims of the monster crisis would have long since burned down the game companies and strung up their executives on gallows.

Of course, persecuting these individuals wouldn’t improve the situation one bit, but humans aren’t known for being particularly rational creatures.

Even if there was nothing to be gained from such actions, they’d still go through with it just to vent their frustrations.

In other words… In other civilizations, such events might actually be unfolding.

Out of eleven games currently entangled in the monster crisis, three were developed on Earth-34:

The MMORPG I played, Revenge.

AOS: Blade & Magic, a highly skilled game often hailed as “the best.”

And Darkest Despair, a hardcore log-like survival game.

Among the remaining eight games, four were not created on Earth-34 either, but they had been serviced or at least their identities were known.

Merlin’s card game, Dark Star, is one such example.

The other four were of unknown origin. Their gaming styles were obvious enough, but there was no specific information about them.

I speculated that the developers or service providers of these games from civilizations outside Earth-34 must be enduring all sorts of hardships.

“Well, for now, Nemesis is what matters.”

I tapped Cheddar’s belly and searched the internet.

Amidst articles and news filled with chaos due to the monster situation, I found the information I wanted.

News of all kinds, stocks rising and falling. Government announcements and public reactions.

As a businessman with keen interest in money and an entrepreneur managing the Human Empire, I could grasp the situation at once.

Capital is on the move.

A significant portion of capital invested in the game industry had shifted towards war-related companies and individuals.

There was no problem with Revenge.

The very fabric of global finance was being rewoven.

It’s too orderly. This isn’t the result of individual actions.

It reminded me of when I summoned NPCs to manage gold inflation, either by releasing items or selectively unlocking players’ job classes and skill books to maintain balance—much like fine-tuning a complex game.

I could clearly sense the will of [Above] at play here.

In other words, all of this…

…is preparation for war.

Until now, Earth-34 had known peace.

Its power was such that even the cosmic calamity of monster outbreaks seemed like distant events in someone else’s universe. Even if an ogre materialized in the heart of a city, it would likely be pummeled to death by enraged civilians before anyone could say “strange occurrence.”

Even on Earth-34… the assault of eleven Transcendent monsters at level 22 was a shock.

When you surf the internet, you come across playful posts:

They mocked the Transcendent monsters. And that wasn’t all.

The rare sight of Earth-patriotism was rampant as people praised and applauded the Transcendents. Ironically, this outburst of nationalism occurred precisely because humans felt threatened by the crisis at hand. On peaceful and relaxed Earth-34, the prevailing attitude had always been one of cool detachment from such matters.

To be honest, they’ve done too good a job defending us.

Indeed, the Transcendents’ defense against the attack was so flawless that it would have been hard for anyone to find fault with their performance. Yet despite this perfect defense, thousands still perished.

What if the Transcendents hadn’t responded so actively to our pleas for help? What if we failed to accurately predict the enemy’s assault positions? What if the battle lasted not three minutes but ten or even twenty?

If any of those scenarios had come true… instead of losing thousands, we might have lost hundreds of thousands.

The people of Earth-34, long accustomed to peace, were now gripped by shock and terror at this revelation. These emotions swiftly coalesced into public opinion. With even the Palace taking a leading role in this sentiment, it didn’t take long for the pent-up energy on Earth-34 to find direction.

“I can’t tell if this is good or bad,” one person mused. “But I have a feeling something massive is about to unfold.”

Still, the most pressing matter at hand was the stock market.

Revenge, once a reliable earner, had taken a nosedive, already down ten percent—a loss of over ten million won… Yet, could this be an opportunity in disguise? After all, wasn’t it like getting everything on sale?

Such a precipitous fall for Revenge was exceedingly rare; it had been sailing high until recently.

Even though it had dropped by more than 10%, it was still expensive.

“Ah… if only I’d bought plenty when it was at 12,200 won.”

Unfortunately, at that time, I didn’t have any money.

If only I’d had the 15 billion won I earned from working just three minutes this time around back then, I could’ve bought 10,000 shares of Revenge stock…

“Yeah. For now, it’s probably best to make more money…” But surely my web novel’s daily views haven’t decreased, have they?

Feeling anxious, I sat down and started working.

Over ten years, I’d accumulated an enormous stockpile of manuscripts. Releasing them all at once would’ve caused problems, so instead of uploading a single work in bulk, I typed away all day, simultaneously serializing multiple novels.

“Login.”

“Logout.”

One day, two days, three days, four days.

I continued typing away. Of course, I wasn’t scribbling away all day long.

The guild’s “Bosses” no longer considered me their little brother. Well, even if they knew their sibling was now a congressman, it would still put them on the spot. But since I had become something entirely beyond that, it would have been stranger if they didn’t feel burdened by my presence.

However, I didn’t sever ties with this game acquaintance. This relationship was beneficial for me as well.

I gradually released my contact information. I didn’t worry about getting inundated with calls from just anyone. After all, even on Earth-34, where magic prevailed, Transcendents were never to be underestimated.

Even contacting a minister-level official was daunting enough; approaching an armed Transcendent went without saying.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack!

For 24 hours straight, I typed away at the game. My typing speed had become so proficient that I could now churn out around 40 volumes per day!

But then, at some point…

Click-clack… crack!

“Ah.”

The keyboard finally gave up on me after holding on for dear life. Despite being a carefully selected item, it couldn’t withstand this insane schedule of typing 40 volumes every single day.

“Well, since it’s broken… I’ll have to take a brief pause.”

Over the past four days of intense writing, I’d amassed a stockpile of over 150 chapters. Of course, I had many more manuscripts than that piled up, but web novels aren’t some magic wand that can conjure infinite cash from words alone.

The market needs time to digest these products!

When serialization is slow, readers cry for more; naturally, increasing the pace also boosts revenue. But does that mean revenue will skyrocket endlessly if you serialize faster and faster? No.

Even if I serialized one chapter daily, there would come a day when readers simply couldn’t keep up. After all, they’re paying to read, so logically, they’ll only purchase what they can actually get through.

After all, readers were human beings with their own lives outside of reading. It was simply impossible for them to devour several books every day on a consistent basis. The number of individuals capable of such a feat must have been vanishingly small.

“I need to earn money through means other than writing novels.”

I opened my stock trading app and checked Nemesis Corp.’s performance:

Nemesis - 9,886,330 won (+11,200 won) ↑

The price had fallen over 15% from its peak but seemed to have hit bottom and was now slowly rebounding. Considering there weren’t any major issues affecting Nemesis, it had already experienced more than enough decline.

“Let’s… purchase one billion won worth for now,” I instructed Cheddar.

At my call, Cheddar whimpered softly before looking up at me. His eyes met mine, revealing his irises.

Whisk!

As I extended my hand towards him, he licked my fingers instinctively.

I confirmed the DNA.

“Meow!”

Ten billion won was converted into stocks. With this, my total shares of Nemesis became 1,050 when added to what I already held. It pained me to remember how I had bought 2,000 shares for a mere fraction of that amount in the past… but times had changed for Revenge, so there was nothing to be done about it.

I’ll figure out just how far this can take me later…

For now, the most important thing was…

Making more money.

I used Cheddar to make some calls.

First, I spoke with film director Alan.

As expected, I couldn’t start immediately, but it was a problem I anticipated.

Next up was the Mercenary Command Center.

Finally, my mercenary career was underway.

However, this wasn’t the end.

I listened intently to Natae Seok PD’s enthusiastic voice while organizing my schedule.

“Ah… Should I hire a manager?”

The thought crossed my mind briefly, but I hesitated, unwilling to part with such a hefty monthly salary.

I figured I’d try my hand at something and use the money to buy another share of stock.

“Lastly, about the advertisement…”

“Meow!”

At that moment, Cheddar suddenly cried out.

“What is it? Did the station call already?”

Puzzled, I looked at Cheddar. Words appeared above his forehead, but surprisingly, it wasn’t from someone at the broadcasting company.

Well, to be precise, you could say they were technically from a broadcasting company employee.

There was the name of one of the Chromatic Dragons’ heads—the Green Dragon Hana.

“Huh, what’s going on all of a sudden…?”

“Meow!”

Cheddar cried again. It made me regret expecting such infrequent calls. Once more, I checked the name.

This time, it was definitely not from anyone associated with the broadcasting company.