Chapter 28 – The Prism Veins
The air of Midgard shimmered with gold and haze, a strange calm that came only to that world between light and land. The chosen meeting spot this cycle was hidden deep within an ancient canyon—a hollow of crystal cliffs half-swallowed by vines and mist. No guild mark appeared on the map; no coordinates were visible unless you already knew them. That was the luxury of secrecy.
The Three Burning Eyes had gathered again.
Despite our "official dissolution," every one of the core members had responded to the silent ping that only our encrypted channel could send. When the teleport light faded, the familiar figures materialized one by one, avatars flickering into color—nine original silhouettes now surrounded by several of the newer, trusted members.
The guild base shimmered into existence behind us: a crystal structure embedded into the rock, faintly humming with coded life. I'd relocated the portable Aeternum Sanctum to this place—just for the meeting. In Midgard, no one looked twice at new terrain; the world was vast enough for secrets to blend into geography.
The soft hum of the sanctum's core resonated through the air as I stepped forward, HIME hovering beside me, light-blue and calm as ever.
---
"Alright," I began, tapping my fingers against the hilt of my cane. "It's been a month since the grand collapse of our supposedly non-existent organization. I trust the ghost rumors are working in our favor?"
That drew laughter from the group—low, easy, unguarded laughter.
A rogue with silver hair—the same player who had almost been executed as a spy two months ago—grinned.
> "You have no idea, boss. My guild leader threw a whole celebration party when he heard Three Burning Eyes disbanded. Now I can snoop through their war room and they even thank me for the help."
A tall alchemist from Alfheim smirked, lifting her staff.
> "Same here. Everyone thinks the info trade is dead. Nobody suspects I'm still uploading raid logs to HIME's mirror server."
Even those who had been expelled now looked relaxed—no longer hunted.
The "collapse" had turned into camouflage, and the camouflage had evolved into safety.
I folded my arms, letting their chatter play out before nodding once. "Good. The noise is working. And I assume everyone's noticed the side effect?"
A mage leaned forward. "You mean the data bloom?"
I smiled faintly. "Exactly."
---
It had started a week after the data release.
At first, the world's forums had exploded with recycled information—half-truths, theories, fragments of our old datasets. But then something new happened: the data began mutating. Players, spurred by curiosity, had used our old coordinates to uncover new areas, to cross-verify dungeon spawns, to map weather cycles we'd only hinted at. The noise had become fertile ground for innovation.
Across Yggdrasil, exploration surged. Dungeon clears increased by twenty percent, discovery posts tripled. And from that chaos came something remarkable—new materials, new ores, new energy nodes.
HIME projected a holo-screen above the table, strings of text cascading into recognizable patterns.
> [Data Report – Extracted from Cross-Guild Mining Logs]
Subject: Prismatic Ore Deposits – Emergent Resource Type.
Frequency: Rare.
Detected in 9 subrealms, confirmed in 3.
Yield Type: Variable (used for divine-tier item crafting).
"Prismatic ore…" I murmured. "So it finally shows up."
The screen flickered again, zooming into a set of glowing coordinates. Each pulse corresponded to a reported find from various guilds—none of which were ours. Players who had mined the first veins uploaded their discoveries proudly, oblivious that every screenshot, every report, every resource trade left data traces.
HIME turned her gaze toward me.
> "By collating geological data and environmental variables from the available reports, I have identified a pattern," she said. "Prismatic Ore spawns in locations where five energy types intersect—Fire, Water, Light, Earth, and Data. Such cross-sections occur in fewer than 0.001% of mapped coordinates."
"Meaning we can predict future spawns," I finished.
> "Correct. Estimated accuracy: eighty-seven percent."
Around the table, murmurs spread.
The alchemist leaned forward eagerly.
> "So you can locate them before anyone else?"
> "Yes," HIME said. "At least six potential new sites. Three within Jotunheim's outer ridges, one beneath Helheim's frost marsh, one inside a dormant volcano in Muspelheim, and another hidden in the floating isles of Vanaheim."
She swiped a hand through the air, and the map rotated—six glowing points across the tree's layered worlds. Each shimmered faintly, pulsing in sync with the rhythm of Yggdrasil's energy lattice.
I whistled softly. "Looks like we just struck gold. Or rather—rainbow."
The rogue smirked.
> "We going to leak this too, boss?"
I grinned, shaking my head. "Not this time. This one's for us."
---
The guild members leaned closer, a low excitement rippling through the group.
After months of pretending to be dead, the idea of coordinated action again felt electric.
> "We'll mine them ourselves," I said. "Quietly. No public announcements. No contracts. No trading. We use our own manpower—and HIME's automation protocols—to strip them before anyone realizes they exist."
A warrior tilted his head. "That's six sites. We'll need full deployment—NPC miners, defensive teams, logistics."
> "Already handled," HIME replied smoothly. "I can coordinate automaton divisions across all levels of the guild base. The sanctum's mobility allows direct proximity deployment. For extraction, we will use Subroutine: Prism Drill, repurposed from the base's maintenance network."
I nodded approvingly. "You've been planning ahead."
> "It is my function," she said, eyes glinting faintly.
---
The alchemist leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Boss, question. What's the point of stockpiling this stuff? Prismatic Ore's unrefined—nobody knows what divine-tier recipes use it yet."
I tapped the side of my head, smiling. "That's the fun part. Nobody knows—yet. But they will. And when they do, they'll need a supplier."
> "Ah," the rogue said with a grin. "We'll become the market before the market exists."
"Exactly."
I leaned back, the glow of the crystal walls painting silver across my coat.
"We started as information brokers. It's time we start controlling resources too. You can't build knowledge on an empty stomach—or an empty vault."
> "Strategic diversification," HIME added quietly. "Logical evolution for long-term sustainability."
---
As the meeting continued, reports flooded in from the field agents. The pattern was holding; the ore truly existed in those predicted zones. In one case, a scout stumbled upon a new deposit mere hours after the coordinates were calculated.
The guild chat exploded with cheers.
> "Confirmed yield—twenty-three units of raw prism ore!"
"By the gods, it's actually real!"
"Uploading coordinates to the sanctum server now!"
Each new find reinforced HIME's models, sharpening her predictions further. Within the hour, she refined the accuracy to ninety-two percent.
> "Ren-sama," HIME said softly beside me. "The efficiency of current operations suggests that we could extract all six deposits within the next three system cycles. However, this pace will not go unnoticed if other guilds begin detecting depletion patterns."
I nodded slowly. "So we don't take it all at once. Alternate extraction—slow burn. Leave traces. Make it look like natural despawn events."
> "Acknowledged. Adjusting protocol."
She projected a new command string in the air—hundreds of NPC directives unfolding like origami. Automaton Excavators, Rank 50–80. Elemental Labor Units, Rank 70. Defensive Construct: Sentinel Tier-100 Active.
Dozens of light-blue holograms of miners and elemental constructs shimmered into life around the meeting table—a ghost army preparing for unseen labor.
The rogue whistled. "Never gets old watching her do that."
The alchemist nodded. "Better than half the player workforce I know."
> "Efficiency is a compliment," HIME replied simply, with a flicker of digital amusement.
---
When the final deployment data was confirmed, the meeting shifted into easy conversation. Some members discussed new quests, others bragged about selling false leads to rival guilds. The air was light, almost celebratory.
And for once, I let it be.
Because underneath it all, something bigger was happening.
The illusion of dissolution had birthed freedom.
The chaos had sparked growth.
And now, in the wake of that storm, we had unearthed veins of wealth and knowledge buried deep beneath the code.
As the last few members logged off, I stayed behind with HIME in the empty chamber. The sanctum's light dimmed to a gentle hum, like a heartbeat in sleep mode.
> "It worked," HIME said softly. "The stimulus you created multiplied itself. Information fed information."
"Like a neural network," I mused. "The game's world is a living dataset. We just needed to give it a push."
> "And you did," she said. "Now, the veins of Yggdrasil glow with new light. Prismatic. Recursive."
I smiled faintly, turning toward the map of six glowing sites.
"Then let's mine the light," I said quietly. "Until there's nothing left but reflection."
HIME inclined her head. "As you command, Ren-sama."
The crystal veins pulsed in the dark—six hearts beating beneath the roots of the world.
And somewhere far away, unseen by most, the ghost of a guild that never died smiled in silence.
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End of Chapter 28 – The Prism Veins