Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part One]

CHAPTER 130: Covetous Pursuit - The Lone Journalist

A crude, metallic device—reminiscent of a modern-day drone—hovered soundlessly beside the anxious journalist. Its mana crystal lens, enchanted to capture both visuals and audio, glowed faintly. Intricate runes engraved along the gadget's frame enabled flight, levitation, remote control, silence, and a host of other elements. These runes made the device both discreet and highly efficient for the task at hand.

Fighting to steady his shaking knees, Nigel trailed the group as quietly as he could. But when a Honeywasp landed on his forehead, he barely managed to choke down the startled scream rising in his throat.

"What was that?" one of the mercenaries demanded, his sudden outburst stopping the group in their tracks.

"...I didn't hear anything," replied another, glancing around.

"Me neither," added a third, watching as his comrade peered suspiciously around, then approached the dense brush where the sound had supposedly come from.

As the Honeywasp crawled onto his nose and settled there, Nigel slowly slid down the trunk of the tree that neighbored said brush, tears pooling in his eyes, his bladder teetering on the brink of disaster.

Gripping his polearm, the mercenary edged toward the suspicious bushes, his gaze fixed as he prepared to probe them with the blade of the weapon. Nigel paled, sweat pooling beneath his chin. Just as his hiding spot was about to be compromised, a Bullet Hare shot out from the undergrowth and darted into the canopy—only to be brought down mid-leap by a ruthless volley of throwing knives.

"False alarm," the man said with a frustrated sigh as he sheathed his menacing weapon.

"You bastard," another man replied, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "You're just itching to kill something, aren't you?"

"It's that obvious, huh?"

"Let's move," commanded the man clad in impressive gear. "The longer we linger, the greater our disadvantage."

Nigel let out a sigh of relief, only to nearly yelp as the Honeywasp decided his nose was the perfect landing pad for its stinger. As it daintily buzzed away, he quickly peeked over the brush to check if he'd been heard. With tears streaming down his face, he gulped down an antidote, his nose now swollen and glowing like a traffic light. "Great, just what I needed," he muttered, fighting to keep his composure.

Similar to obtaining a driver's license, the minimum age to play Sehreneti Online was set at sixteen. However, eligibility extended beyond just age. Just as some individuals possessed a natural tolerance for g-forces or seasickness, playing Sehreneti Online demanded a unique kind of talent.

Unfortunately for Nigel, he didn't quite fit that bill. To make matters worse, the game's hyperrealistic nature deterred many parents from letting their children play. Even with the option to lower the immersion level, the thought of being devoured limb by limb—agonizingly slow—by a monster was enough to instill a serious case of lifelong trauma, no matter how you sliced it.

Fortunately, Nigel wasn't part of the game's diverse user base for the thrill of hunting, adventure, or glory. He was a journalist, and Sehreneti Online was his full-time gig—his bread and butter. By crafting informational and entertaining content in the form of newsletters, videos, and live streams, he could generate income across multiple platforms. It was a lucrative niche, provided one knew how to market their work and spin a compelling story.

Of course, acquiring exceptional content material required a certain degree of hunting and exploration, but Nigel wasn't about to let that dampen his enthusiasm. As a journalist, he had the flexibility to choose a subclass that suited his reporting style. For those eager to get up close and personal during dungeon raids or guild wars, a tanky subclass might be ideal, allowing them to withstand crossfire and monster attacks. Conversely, if someone was more interested in covering stories about the undead, a clerical or necromancy class would prove invaluable for their needs.

Nigel, for his part, opted for the assassin class. It was perfect for players who wanted to ambush and stealthily take down their foes. However, it also had a reputation as the go-to class for cowards looking to specialize in hiding and making a swift exit. When it came to leveling up, he employed a different strategy altogether: he simply paid rankers to «power-level» or «carry» him. In essence, while he maintained a safe distance, powerful party members would slay monsters, ensuring he received a full hundred percent of the Experience Points without lifting a finger.

After downing a potion and witnessing his once-swollen nose gradually return to normal, Nigel took a calming breath and resummoned his drone. His instincts were rarely wrong, and this time they were whispering that following this group would lead him to great fortune—and by "fortune," he meant a massive scoop that could make headlines and fatten his wallet.

Though, if I had to be completely honest, I'm curious about this guy in the fancy gear. Why does he look so familiar? Where have I seen him before?

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