As the 'Creator' of this fortress, shouldn't you make a tiny contribution to the rebirth of civilization?"
Lawson's face turned the color of a beet.
"I KNEW IT! You little thief! It wasn't enough that you made me liquidate my rare materials, now you want my nest egg?! That's my hard-earned money! My life savings!"
Katie didn't even argue. She glanced at Dodge and Luther. The "Guardians" moved with practiced precision, pinning Lawson again.
Katie strode forward in her heels, reached into Lawson's coat pocket, and fished out his phone.
"NO! PLEASE! MY DEAR JUNIOR! THAT'S MY LIFE! NOOOO!!!"
Lawson's voice broke. Katie ignored him. She walked to a terminal and plugged the phone in.
Click. [DING!!!!!—]
A crisp, melodic notification rang out—a death knell for Lawson. On the giant screen, the number 99,999,999 LP flashed for a second before being sucked into the system, turning into a gold stream of data that surged toward the energy crystal at the tower's peak.
Lawson went limp. The light left his eyes. He was an empty shell.
"Look, Senior," Katie said with the elegant smile of a corporate tycoon.
"Thanks to your 'generous donation,' our new world... finally has its startup capital."
The hall was bathed in a holy golden rain of data. It was the fruit of ten years of Lawson's "grinding"—every cent a testament to his sleepless nights, now serving as the lubricant for this cold iron base.
"My money... how many late nights... how many elite mobs... how many chests..." Lawson's voice was a whisper. This "Human-ATM" despair was worse than being surrounded by monsters.
Rickman patted his shoulder, his expression full of pity.
"Little Law, don't be sad. Once we collect taxes, the committee will give you an 'Outstanding Contribution Award.' We'll even put a statue of you at the exchange: 'To the man who was so rich he had no choice but to save the world.'"
Lawson rolled his eyes, nearly passing away right there. In epic poems, gods command the winds; in Katie's capitalist logic, a god who can't be liquidated is less useful than a vending machine.
He looked up at the ceiling. From this second on, his goal had changed from "Saving Humanity" to four very humble, very realistic words:
"STARTING. FROM. ABSOLUTE. SCRATCH."
Inside the hall, the suffocating capitalist pressure dissipated as the crowd dispersed. Rickman, clutching the "Manifesto" that was destined to set off a societal tidal wave, marched toward the central square with wind in his stride.
He couldn't wait to announce to the citizens still gnawing on dry rations: the "Great Age of Discovery"—or rather, the "Great Mining Era"—of the Nova Star had arrived.
On the other side, Lawson, having been completely drained of his life savings to the point where even his soul appeared translucent, hung like a pile of mud over the shoulders of Dodge and Luther.
The two half-dragged and half-carried the "collapsed deity" toward the Armor Forge, the air still echoing with Lawson's feeble muttering: "My money... my gold coins..."
As the heavy doors groaned shut, the spectator seats in the center of the hall emitted a faint mechanical hum and slowly sank back into the floor.
The wraparound holographic screens flickered off one by one, the pulsing data streams returning to silence, and the hall was once again enveloped in a quiet, deep, high-tech glow.
Standing in the center of the empty hall, Katie let out a long sigh of relief. She raised her hand to unbutton the heavy leather coat that symbolized her "Iron-Blooded Tycoon" persona, tossing it casually onto the floor.
Next, she removed the gemstone necklaces and rings that were enough to blind a commoner, her movements swift and decisive.
She shook her head gently, her hair cascading down like a blue waterfall as her tightly bundled hair returned to its original lazy, elegant waves.
When the sharp-edged glasses were removed, the fierce financial demoness who looked ready to squeeze out every last copper disappeared, replaced by the cool, restrained, and intellectual white-collar beauty of before.
"Shedding that 'nouveau riche' outfit makes the air feel so much lighter."
Katie stretched her stiff shoulders, her deep gaze fixed on the corner where the three had vanished. She knew very well that the "bandit-style" performance just now, while ruthless, was a necessary ritual.
"Well then, time to go explain the true 'survival logic' behind this plan to that money-grubbing 'Lord Creator'."
A gentle yet mischievous smile played on her lips. With light, rhythmic steps, like an actress who had just finished her curtain call, she walked unhurriedly toward the Armor Forge.
Returning to the Armor Forge—his "home base"—Lawson looked around, his heart twisting as if pierced by a thousand needles.
The rows of orderly display racks were filled with rare materials he once took immense pride in. Every item carried the history of blood, sweat, and tears; of boss fights that lasted into the dawn and eyes rubbed red from "grinding."
Now, they were all tagged with price labels, and his mountain of gold coins had vanished into thin air.
"These ten years... what were they for?" Lawson sighed toward the ceiling, his voice as desolate as a fallen general who had lost both his fiefdom and his sword.
He gripped the edge of a rack, his hands trembling.
"My effort, the monsters I killed, the countless times I died... wiped out in a single stroke? Where is my honor?!"
"Bro..." Even a man as tough as Dodge couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. He pulled Luther closer and whispered, "Look at him. He looks like a newbie who just lost all his god-tier gear. Do you think we should tell him the truth now?"
Luther shook his head like a rattle.
"Let's not. Logic this heavy is best left to Miss Katie. I'm afraid if you speak, Mr. Lawson won't just be confused—he'll have a heart attack and faint on the spot. Let's just be quiet background characters."
Just as Lawson was mentally drafting a hundred pessimistic ways to "restart his life," a calm, powerful voice cut through the air.
"As the creator of this fortress, you must learn to prioritize the bigger picture."
It was Katie, having finished her "transformation." She walked toward them, her gaze steady.
"The life you hold in your hands is no longer just your own, but the lives of thousands of residents. Did 'System Master' not solemnly entrust the future of everyone to you before he left?"
Lawson looked down, stunned, before muttering a retort.
"Even so... did we have to empty the entire nest egg? Without that money, I can't even get a hot meal in this fortress. How am I supposed to survive?"
Katie stopped, her eyes losing the sharp calculation of a merchant and gaining a layer of sincerity.
"Senior, it's not just you. I have also injected all 78,888,888 LP I accumulated over the last seven years into the system. It's less than yours, but it was my entire life's savings."
Lawson's pupils shrunk.
"You donated too? Why? Why go bankrupt for this?"