The Market District of Aethelgard was a runway for the digital elite.
Players strutted past in armor that glowed with particle effects—neon pauldrons, flaming capes, swords that hummed with bass-boosted sound effects. In MythBorn, if you weren't glowing, you didn't matter.
I looked down at my own attire:
[Item: Beggar's Tunic]
[Defense: 1]
[Durability: 4/10]
[Smell: Burnt Gunpowder]
I looked like a loot drop from a tutorial goblin. If I tried to walk into the Royal Spire like this, the automated bouncers would disintegrate me just to keep the property value up.
I checked my wallet. 2 Gold.
A basic "Noble's Robe" cost 500 Gold. A cosmetic skin cost real money—usually $50 and up.
I couldn't buy fashion. I had to code it.
I ducked into a narrow alleyway behind a high-end armory called Gilded Edge.
Through the shop window, I could see a mannequin displaying the [Voidwalker Set]. It was magnificent—pitch black cloth with shifting purple constellations woven into the fabric.
Price: 15,000 Gold.
I didn't need to steal the item. The server had strict anti-theft protocols for physical objects.
But I didn't want the object. I just wanted the .png.
I pressed my face against the glass.
I activated [Skill View].
The world stripped down to wireframes. The mannequin became a mesh of polygons. The robe became a texture map wrapped around it.
[Target: Voidwalker_Robe_Texture_v4]
[Skin Path: /assets/armor/legendary/void/skin_01]
"Copy," I whispered.
My Formula interface buzzed.
[Texture ID Copied to Clipboard]
Now came the risky part.
I pulled out my Beggar's Tunic.
Formula Slot I: [Target: Beggar's Tunic]
Formula Slot II: [Override: Visual_Asset]
I pasted the directory path of the legendary armor into the variable field.
Visual_Asset = "Voidwalker_Robe_Texture_v4"
The system hesitated.
[Warning: Asset Mismatch. Mesh topology does not match texture coordinates.]
The beggar's tunic was a simple cylinder. The Voidwalker robe had a hood, a cape, and flowing sleeves. If I just pasted the texture, it would look like a stretched, pixelated mess.
I needed to force the mesh to conform.
I added a suffix to the code:
Render_Mode: Force_Projection
Collision: Ignore
"Execute."
[Mana Cost: 15]
[Duration: 1 Hour]
A shimmer of blue light enveloped me. The burnt rags dissolved—visually, at least. In their place appeared the shifting, starry fabric of the Voidwalker set. A hood cast a mysterious shadow over my face. Dark purple energy drifted off my shoulders.
I looked down at my hands. They were gloved in obsidian silk.
I poked my chest. My finger sank through the "robe" and touched the coarse burlap underneath.
It was a hologram. A client-side illusion forced onto the global server.
To the world, I looked like a Level 90 Warlock God.
To the damage calculator, I was still a naked level 1.
"Good enough for government work," I muttered.
I stepped out of the alley.
A passing player stopped and stared.
"Whoa," he whispered to his friend. "Check out that guy. Voidwalker set? Is he a pro?"
I walked past them with the swagger of someone who owns the server, heading straight for the Spire.
The Royal Spire: Lobby
The entrance to the Spire was a massive archway of gold and white marble. Two Elite Royal Guards (Level 80 NPC) stood at the door, crossing their halberds.
Between them stood a floating blue crystal: The Scanner.
[Entry Requirement: Combat Power (CP) > 5,000 OR Guild Rank: Officer+]
I had a Combat Power of 12.
I joined the queue. Ahead of me, a Level 40 Warrior stepped up.
The crystal scanned him.
Beep. [CP: 8,400. Access Granted.]
He walked in.
My turn.
I stepped up to the crystal. The Elite Guards towered over me.
The crystal hummed, a beam of blue light scanning my avatar.
If it checked my stats, I was dead.
But I knew how these scanners worked. They didn't calculate your stats every time—that took too much processing power. Instead, they read the "Displayed CP" value on your profile card.
And profile cards were just UI elements.
I focused on the scanner.
[Target: Scanner_Input_Stream]
I couldn't hack the scanner. It was a server-side object.
But I could hack the data I was feeding it.
I opened a Formula on myself.
[Variable: UI_Display_Override]
[String: "Combat Power: 99,999"]
I wasn't changing my strength. I was just writing a lie on my nametag.
The scanner beam hit me.
It read the tag.
It paused.
[Reading...]
[CP: 99,999]
[Rank: ???]
The crystal turned a deep, subservient gold.
[Welcome, Honored Guest.]
The guards uncrossed their halberds and bowed. Actually bowed.
"Apologies for the delay, Lord," one of them rumbled.
I nodded slowly, keeping my hood up.
"At ease," I said, my voice modulated by the cavernous acoustics of the fake hood.
I walked through the archway.
I was in.
The Penthouse Lounge
The interior of the Spire made the real world look low-res.
Chandeliers made of floating mana crystals. Carpets woven from silk that cost 50 gold a yard.
The room was filled with the 1%. Guild Leaders, top streamers, merchant kings.
I kept to the edges of the room. My "Voidwalker" disguise drew looks—envy, mostly—but no one approached me. High-level players respected privacy. Or fear.
I scanned the room.
I was looking for Warlock_Zero.
I found him near the balcony, surrounded by a group of laughing sycophants.
He looked exactly like I expected.
Tall. Pale editor-customized face. Wearing the [Crimson Monarch] set—a rare drop from the Vampire Raid.
And floating above his head was his title:
[Guild Leader: NULL_SET]
My blood ran cold.
Null Set.
A hacking term.
He wasn't hiding it. He was flaunting it.
But what caught my eye wasn't his armor. It was the weapon leaning against his chair.
A greatsword.
The blade was made of translucent, starlight glass. The hilt was wrapped in white leather.
[The Star-Eater].
My sword.
The sword I had spent six months grinding for on my Paladin account. The sword that was unique—only one existed on the server.
He had stolen my account, stripped it for parts, and was now using my signature weapon as a prop while he drank champagne.
Rage is a funny thing.
Usually, it makes you hot.
But for me? It made me cold. It made me mathematical.
I wanted to walk over there and punch him. But that would do 1 damage, and his automated "Thorns" aura would kill me instantly.
I needed to humiliate him.
I moved closer, blending into the crowd near the bar. I was about ten meters away.
Close enough for the Formula Range.
Zero was holding a wine glass in one hand and gesturing to the sword with the other.
"Yeah, it's a nice toy," Zero laughed. His voice was smug, oily. "Got it off some washed-up pro who didn't know how to secure his login. Sad, really."
The group laughed.
"You're terrible, Boss," a female mage giggled. "Can I hold it?"
"Sure," Zero said. "Go ahead. It's light as a feather."
He reached down to pick up the sword by the hilt, intending to hand it to her.
I narrowed my eyes under my hood.
[Target: The_Star-Eater]
[Property: Weight]
The current weight was 5.0 kg.
I opened my Formula Slot.
In the real world, mass is constant.
In MythBorn, mass is a variable designed to determine swing speed.
I typed in a new value.
[Variable Shift: Weight = 5,000 kg]
Zero's fingers wrapped around the hilt. He pulled up, expecting 5 kilograms.
He got 5 tons.
The physics engine reacted instantly.
Zero didn't lift the sword.
The sword anchored itself to reality with the density of a neutron star.
Zero's avatar, attempting to lift an immovable object, glitched. His arm jerked down. His balance center shattered.
He face-planted. Hard.
And because he was holding the grip, the momentum dragged him off his chair.
He slammed into the floor, the chair flipping over on top of him. His wine glass shattered, spilling red liquid all over his white Crimson Monarch pants.
CRASH.
The lounge went silent.
Everyone turned to look.
The great Warlock_Zero, Guild Leader of Null_Set, was lying on the floor covered in wine, pinned down by his own weapon.
"What the—!" Zero sputtered, trying to pull his hand free.
But he couldn't. The sword was too heavy. It was pinning his hand to the floor like a nail.
"Is... is he drunk?" someone whispered.
"He can't lift his sword?"
Zero's face turned bright red.
"It's bugged!" he screamed, thrashing. "The physics are bugged! Help me up!"
I smiled.
I quietly reset the variable.
[Variable Shift: Weight = 5.0 kg]
Zero gave a massive heave, expecting the weight.
But the weight was gone.
So instead of lifting it, he flung the sword—and himself—backwards. The sword flew out of his hand, sailed across the room, and embedded itself in a terrifyingly expensive ice sculpture of a swan.
SHATTER.
Ice scattered everywhere. Zero landed on his ass, looking completely insane.
The room erupted into whispers and stifled laughter.
The cool, untouchable hacker looked like a clumsy clown.
I took a sip of the free water I'd grabbed from the bar.
"Gravity," I whispered. "It's a bitch."
Zero scrambled up, his eyes wild. He scanned the room. He wasn't stupid. He knew that wasn't normal.
"Who did that?" he roared. "Who's messing with me?!"
His eyes swept over the crowd.
They landed on me.
The mysterious figure in the Voidwalker robes, standing silently in the corner, hood up.
He narrowed his eyes. He cast a [Identify] spell.
[Target: Unknown]
[Level: ???]
[Combat Power: 99,999]
He froze.
He saw the fake numbers. And for a second, I saw fear.
He thought I was a GM. Or an Admin.
I tipped my imaginary glass to him.
Then I turned and walked toward the exit, my "Voidwalker" cape flowing dramatically behind me.
I didn't get my sword back. Not yet.
But I got something better.
I knew he was scared.
And now I knew where he kept his loot.
The game was on.