In just six short weeks, the players built a civilization.
They weren't just surviving — they were thriving.
It's like a competition: who can gather the most, mine the fastest, or build the biggest monument before breakfast?
Somehow, they decided my fountain was the center of it all.
The **Heart of the Three Kingdoms**, they call it.
I'm flattered. I didn't even try.
But then... why the hell are they having their strategy meeting **here**?
"Player distribution," they said.
"Farming patterns."
"Territorial exchange rates, economic zones, specialty production chains—"
Wait, what?
**"Economy?** What economy?" I mutter.
Coins? Gold? Cash shop?
**Forex??** Are you telling me they implemented foreign exchange between factions?
**A stock market?!**
...Money means nothing to me, but I admire the hustle.
Then came the bombshell:
**"There's a hidden vault under the Demon King's castle!"**
**WHAT?!**
How—HOW did they know!?
I poured every ounce of sealing technique and encryption into hiding that vault!
"Oh, we had a pen tester on our team," one of them said casually.
**"Also, the code sucks. Devs, try better"**
I've never wanted to cry in system logs before.
Still… they were trying.
So I sighed and nodded. "Fine. You want a formal agreement? I can help with that."
===
Pact of 3 kingdoms
Officially signed by
1. HEAVENLY DEMON - PRETENDER
2. GRAND MASTER OF THE HOLY PRINCIPALITY - SOVEREIGN
3. TENT OWNER - LET ME SOLO IT
We, the representatives of the three factions, in full awareness that gamers are chaos incarnate, hereby establish this pact to prevent total annihilation of our central hub zone (and maybe to get some actual farming done).
Zone-name : to be decided (poll in effect)
- **Coordinates:** Within **2km radius** of the central Fountain
- **Status:** **Safe Zone / Non-Combat Area**
**PvP Restrictions:**
- PvP allowed **only** in **designated duel arenas or opt-in battlegrounds**
- Unauthorized aggression will result in **Red Name Status**
- Red Name = Temporarily kill-on-sight (KOS) in all territories
- Red Name players lose 25% contribution points upon death
- Persistent offenders may be **auto-marked as [Outlaw]**, voiding faction benefits
ECONOMIC CLAUSES:
...
Signed in glitchy light, spirit ink, and probably by accident,
PRETENDER
SOVEREIGN
LET ME SOLO IT (via emoji signature)
===
As the last glyph sealed itself with a glow from the Fountain, my **Dao of Restriction** surged — **a binding contract, etched into the very rules of the realm**.
And every player — even those not watching — felt it.
The PvP addicts paused.
The exploiters froze.
Even the berserkers… hesitated.
Heh. It worked.
----
It was never supposed to escalate like this.
Not this fast.
Day 6 of the Alpha. Week 1 of integration.
And already—**three kingdoms** stand proud upon the shattered remnants of a cultivation realm that once fell to greed and godhood.
**The Demon King's Castle** – Built from contradiction and charisma, veined with rebellion and kitchen blueprints.
**The Holy Principality** – Marble towers, precise zoning laws, and a surprisingly well-maintained parade schedule.
**The Wandering Accord** – …A single patchwork tent held down by books, tea, and **sheer nerve**.
Frankly, even the rogue AI in a certain super hero movie will be confused by the architectural disparity.
I tried to roll a standard sanity check.
It failed.
I hover—omniscient but ever-exhausted—over the third faction's "base."
No outer walls.
No weapon racks.
No formation posts.
Just a tea circle, a chalkboard, and what appears to be a campfire philosophy debate.
"**Minimalism is a strategy,"** one player insists.
"**The moment you name the dojo, the dojo ceases to be,"** another argues.
A third uses a cushion to parry an incoming bo staff and wins the duel with a cup of oolong.
Huh...
The **Northern Dragon** would weep if he saw what became of his **Unorthodox Sect**.
Meanwhile, the berserkers of the **Demonic Sect** are out here building a literal **hanging garden throne room**—complete with a rotating fire pit, ten hot springs, and a functional **courthouse**?
They even have a guild anthem.
It's terrible.
And they play it every login.
All this… in **six days.**
To be fair, it's my fault too.
I issued the breakthrough system.
I pushed their creative minds influencing them a bit about the sandbox of the world.
===
Attention, Players: Scheduled Server Maintenance will begin in 30 minutes.
Reminder: Logging out does **not** automatically transfer your avatar into an "AFK farming" mode.
Please find a safe location to meditate, lie down, or commune with a stone frog. Your choice.
Also… drink water.
Please.
===
The reactions were immediate and… classic.
"**OH GOD I FORGOT THIS WAS A GAME!**"
"I have work tomorrow, but what's a job to a Heavenly Demon!?"
"I just got my sword to talk to me, I can't stop NOW!"
"LET ME PLAY MORE!"
One guy tried to legally marry his cultivation technique before logout.
The system (me) declined the marriage certificate.
He's now suing the Holy Principality's in-game court system.
And to think…
**this is still Alpha.**
The **Phase 2** I prepared ...
The players are going to lose their minds.
I glance back at the Wandering Accord.
They're drawing a chalk labyrinth for a "walking meditation PvP ritual."
One just built a house entirely out of flags and paradoxes.
Let Me Solo It hasn't moved from his seat in 6 hours.
I checked.
He's dodged 428 flies.
I sigh.
Simulation integrity holding… for now.
But I may need to prepare **Phase 2.**
===
Laws Points = 2128
Contradiction Points = 3000
===
A system only I can see.
A system only the system can understand.
How poetic. How absurd.
It's like having a divine command console where every input has a **cost** measured in the weight of philosophy, not numbers.
Each point isn't just data. It's **law rewritten.**
One command? Like hammering a nail into the rules of reality — if the nail was on fire and screamed the laws of thermodynamics while begging me to stop.
But I don't.
I **won't.**
===
LAWFORGE MODE ENGAGED
===
My breath slowed.
The system—whatever it is—spun around me. Glyphs formed mid-air. Philosophies collided in fractal spirals. The metaphysical version of tabbing through too many IDEs while running triple monitors in a blackout.
Code. Cultivation. Contradiction.
===
[Accessing: Anchor Node - DreamVR Device]
===
And then... the world blurred.
What I saw wasn't a sword or a technique.
It was the **DreamVR headset**—that cursed crown that brought 1,000 players into this world.
Pixel-perfect. Sleek. Modern. But now imbued with runes, spinning fragments of law humming with contradiction.
So this was the medium. The anchor. The **portal** between worlds.
No one knew how it really worked.
They said it was a prototype. A game.
I knew it was a **ritual.**
And now?
Now I had enough resources to create more.
"Time to make 2,000 more," I whispered, fingers twitching... if i had one
The system didn't just print a headset.
It forged conduits between **realities.**
===
[Uploading through fragmented worldlines… Success]
[ Dream VR Anchor x 2,000: DEPLOYED]
"They grow up so fast…"
I wiped a nonexistent tear as the VR devices shot through rifts—faster than light, faster than choice.
Sniff sniff.
"Go now… ruin some expectations. Break some rules."
---
Meanwhile…
in a very boring meeting room:
A man in a pressed suit looked up from his presentation.
"Uh, sir? We've detected a strange signal."
His boss, a woman with glasses too expensive to wear right, frowned. "Another breach? Patch it."
"No—this one's… new. It's not trying to break in."
He paused.
"It's trying to bring people **out.**"
---
Back in my realm, the points continued ticking.
I stretched — spine cracking like bamboo after a storm.