To a normal person, the towering stone walls of the fortress city of E-Rantel were a majestic, imposing symbol of human military might. Triple-layered fortifications, ballistas mounted on the battlements, and squads of heavily armored guards patrolling the battlements to keep out the monsters of the night.
To me, they were just low-resolution textures blocking my path.
"My Lord... we are approaching the gates," Sherry whispered, her hands clutching her apron like it was a shield. The fabric was practically groaning under the weight of the hundred massive, pure gold YGGDRASIL coins I had casually dumped on her. "The guards... they will ask for our travel papers. And our entry tax. And... and they will certainly ask about your clothes."
"Let them ask," I yawned, hands shoved deep into my hoodie pockets. "I'm tired, I'm bored, and my shoes are starting to get dusty. If they take too long, I'm just going to delete the doors."
As we neared the massive iron-reinforced wooden gates, two guards in polished iron breastplates stepped forward, raising their halberds. They looked exhausted, irritable, and exactly like the kind of low-level gatekeeper NPCs who took their tiny sliver of authority way too seriously.
"Halt!" the lead guard barked, squinting at me. "State your name and business in E-Rantel. And what in the gods' names are you wearing, boy? Where is your cloak? Your guild tag?"
"Marcus. No guild. I'm here to buy some property and maybe find a place that sells decent food," I said, not even slowing down.
"No guild? No travel papers?" The guard's face darkened, his eyes drifting over to Sherry, who was trembling so hard she looked like she might vibrate through the dirt. He spotted the heavy, bulging apron she was clutching. "And what's the girl carrying? Step aside for a search."
"I don't really do searches," I said, stopping a foot away from the tip of his halberd.
"You don't what?" The guard scoffed, a nasty, greedy glint entering his eyes as he tapped his halberd against the ground. "Listen here, brat. The entry fee is five copper coins per person. But for an unregistered, suspicious foreigner in strange garments... let's call it five silver. Each. Or you can spend the night in the dungeon."
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "God, you guys are so predictably annoying. It's like the developers copy-pasted your dialogue from a generic fantasy template."
I raised my left hand and snapped my fingers.
Ping.
The neon-green [Cheat Menu] flared to life. I swiped past my stats and tapped into my item spawner. I didn't feel like counting out pennies. I didn't even feel like reaching into my pockets.
I selected a single, massive YGGDRASIL gold coin.
Clink.
A gold coin the size of a teacup saucer, glittering with a blinding, pristine radiance and stamped with the smug, elaborate face of an ancient gaming goddess, materialized in the air and dropped directly into the lead guard's open hand.
The sheer weight of the pure, solid gold nearly broke the guard's wrist. His hand dropped six inches, his halberd clattering to the stone floor as he stared at the object in his palm. His partner leaned over, his eyes bulging out of his helmet.
"What... what is this?" the lead guard gasped, his voice suddenly squeaking. "This... this isn't Kingdom gold. This is... it's too pure! The weight... the craftsmanship... this is worth more than my captain's entire estate!"
"It's a tip. Keep the change," I said, stepping past him. "Now open the door."
"W-Wait!" the guard stammered, frantically clutching the coin to his chest as if someone might steal it. "I... I cannot simply let you pass with this! A coin of this caliber... it must be registered! The merchant guild... the tax collectors... they will want to know where a brat like you got such a treasure!"
I stopped. I slowly turned around, my expression dropping into a flat, incredibly annoyed scowl.
"Let's get one thing straight, NPC," I said, my voice dripping with the arrogant irritation of a spoiled brat who was used to getting whatever he wanted with a keystroke. "I gave you a shiny gold circle because I was feeling lazy. I didn't give it to you so you could ask me questions, and I certainly didn't give it to you so you could delay my nap. Now, are you going to open the gate, or do I have to restructure the city layout?"
"You... you dare threaten the guards of E-Rantel?!" the second guard yelled, bravely drawing his iron shortsword. "Get on your knees, boy!"
"Fine. Option B it is," I sighed.
I didn't draw a weapon. I didn't cast a spell. I just brought up my [Cheat Menu] and opened the [Script Injector] terminal. I targeted the massive, ten-ton, iron-reinforced oak gate of E-Rantel.
[Console_Target: E-Rantel_Main_Gate_01]
[Command: /delete]
Zip.
With a soft, digitized hum, the massive, imposing gates—structures that had withstood sieges and monstrous hordes for centuries—instantly turned into a cloud of harmless, glowing green pixels. The pixels scattered into the night breeze, leaving a massive, gaping, forty-foot-wide hole in the city's outer wall.
The cold night wind rushed through the empty archway, whistling softly.
The two guards stood frozen, their mouths open so wide I was pretty sure I could hear their jawbones popping. The second guard's shortsword slipped from his trembling, numb fingers, clattering loudly against the cobblestones. Behind them, several merchants and travelers who had been waiting in line let out terrified shriek, falling to their knees to pray.
"There," I said, dusting off my hands as if I had actually done physical labor. "No more door. Problem solved. See how easy that was?"
I turned to Sherry, who was looking at me like I was a localized god of death.
"Alright, Sherry. Let's go. Show me a business I can buy. I want to play tycoon, and I want to do it where there's roof over my head."
"Y-Y-Yes, my Lord!" she squeaked, practically tripping over her own feet as she scrambled through the giant, gateless archway after me.
We walked into the city of E-Rantel. It was exactly what I expected: muddy streets, wooden buildings, and the faint smell of wet horse and cheap coal. But to the locals, my entrance was anything but ordinary. Word of the "Gateless Arch" was probably already spreading through the guard ranks, but with my passive [Invisible/Ghost Mode] set to a $10\%$ transparency override, people's eyes casually slid right past me, assuming I was just a trick of the light unless I directly spoke to them. It was a neat little mod that kept the annoying commoners from crowding me.
"So," I said, looking around the dark, winding streets. "Where is the worst, most pathetic, struggling business in this city?"
Sherry blinked, clutching her apron of gold closer. "The... the worst, my Lord? You do not wish to buy a grand mansion? Or a luxurious tavern?"
"Grand mansions are boring. They're already built," I said, kicking a small pebble with my white sneaker. "Where is the fun in buying something that's already finished? I want to find some sad, pathetic little shop that is about to go bankrupt, throw a bunch of gold at the owner, and turn it into a multi-million-dollar modern enterprise just to watch the local merchants cry about their profit margins. It's called restructuring."
Sherry swallowed hard. "W-Well... if it is a struggling shop you seek... there is the potion shop of the Bareare family in the residential district. The old herbalist, Lizzie Bareare, is famous... but they have been struggling to compete with the official Adventurer's Guild supply chains. And... and there is also a small, run-down tavern near the slums. The owner is heavily in debt to the local iron-mining syndicate."
"A tavern," I mused, a slow, spoiled grin spreading across my face. "Perfect. I can turn it into an air-conditioned convenience store and cafe. I'll sell cold sodas, instant ramen, and self-cleaning soaps. The local church and the merchant guilds will absolutely lose their minds when they realize they can't replicate the technology."
"But... my Lord, the mining syndicate..." Sherry whispered fearfully. "They are ruthless. They have many hired thugs, and they are backed by powerful nobles—"
"Sherry," I interrupted, tapping my cheek lazily. "Do you see those five contractor trash bags we left in the woods? Do you think a couple of guys with pickaxes are going to be a problem for a guy who just deleted a forty-foot iron gate because he didn't want to pay five silver?"
She quickly shut her mouth and gave a frantic shake of her head.
"Good," I said, pointing down the dark street. "Lead the way to my new property. It's time to show this medieval trash heap what modern corporate hostile takeovers look like."