The NeuralTech building looked different at 8 AM on a Monday.
Marcus walked through the lobby. Past the fountain with its corporate motivational quote. Past the security desk where the guard now recognized him on sight. Past the same route he'd taken five days ago when he was trying to prove himself.
Today, they were trying to prove themselves to him.
The fourteenth-floor conference room had changed. Bigger table. More executives. Legal team in the corner. Someone had brought in breakfast—bagels, fancy coffee, the works.
David Park stood when Marcus entered. Extended his hand with a smile that reached his eyes.
"Marcus. Thanks for coming in so early."
"You said it was urgent."
"It is." David gestured to the assembled executives. "You remember Sarah. This is our legal counsel, Jennifer Wu. Michael from finance. And this—" he indicated a man Marcus didn't recognize, "—is Richard Chen, CEO of NeuralTech."
The CEO. They'd brought out the big boss.
Marcus shook hands. Took a seat.
Richard Chen was fifty-something. Silver hair. Expensive suit. The kind of man who'd built empires before breakfast.
"Mr. Caldwell." Richard's voice was measured. Precise. "I watched your fortress run. Watched it three times, actually. Once for entertainment. Twice for analysis."
"And?"
"And I think we dramatically undervalued you." Richard slid a folder across the table. "New contract. Half percent equity in our gaming division, as discussed. But we've added performance bonuses, appearance fees, and a signing bonus."
Marcus opened the folder.
The numbers made his breath catch.
$50,000 signing bonus. $5,000 monthly retainer. Up to $20,000 per month in performance bonuses based on engagement metrics.
Plus the equity. Half a percent didn't sound like much until you realized NeuralTech's gaming division was projected at $2 billion valuation within two years.
That was $10 million if the projections held.
Marcus kept his face neutral. "This is generous."
"It's market rate for what you're providing." Richard leaned forward. "Let me be direct. You're about to get offers from every gaming hardware company on Earth. HyperGear will come at you hard—they're panicking because their golden boy just got outshined. Razer will wave money around. Even non-endemic brands like Red Bull and Monster are sniffing around."
"You're saying I should take this before I explore options?"
"I'm saying we want first right of refusal." Richard smiled. "Show me a better offer, and we'll match it. Plus ten percent. That's in writing."
Marcus read through the contract. Jennifer Wu walked him through the legal language. No trap clauses. No hidden gotchas. Just a straightforward deal.
"I need 24 hours," Marcus said.
"Take 48." Richard stood. Extended his hand. "But Marcus? Don't take too long. In this industry, timing is everything."
They shook.
As Marcus left, Sarah caught up to him in the hallway.
"That was smart," she said. "Taking time. Shows you're not desperate."
"I'm not playing hard to get. I actually need to think."
"About what? That's an incredible offer."
Marcus stopped walking. Looked at her. "Sarah, real talk. What's the catch?"
She hesitated. Then: "There isn't one. Not really. But... you should know HyperGear is preparing a counter-offer for their guy. Crusader. Ethan Cross."
"How much?"
"Rumors say seven figures annually. Plus a reality show. Plus a merchandising deal."
Marcus processed that. Seven figures. Real money. Life-changing money.
For Ethan.
"They're betting on different horses," Sarah continued. "HyperGear wants the face of gaming. The personality. The brand ambassador who makes people feel good about their hobby."
"And NeuralTech wants?"
"The winner." She smiled. "Different strategies. Both valid. But you should know what you're up against."
Marcus nodded. "Thanks for the honesty."
"One more thing." Sarah pulled out her phone. Showed him a YouTube video. "This dropped an hour ago."
The thumbnail showed Ethan's face. Earnest. Sincere. The title: "Why Gaming Needs Community, Not Competition - A Message from Crusader."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "When did he post this?"
"Six AM. Right before your meeting." Sarah put her phone away. "He's smart. Knows you're negotiating. Wanted to remind everyone who the 'good guy' is."
"Let me guess. He takes shots at me without saying my name."
"Watch it yourself. But yeah. Basically."
Marcus watched the video in his car.
Ethan sat in what looked like a coffee shop. Casual clothes. Relatable setting. The lighting was perfect—probably had a professional videographer.
"Hey everyone, Crusader here." Ethan's smile was warm. Genuine. "I want to talk about something that's been on my mind. The siege event was incredible, right? We all came together. Defended our towns. Made new friends. That's what gaming should be about."
He paused. Took a sip of coffee.
"But I've noticed a trend. Some players treat this like it's all about dominance. About being number one. And hey, I get it. Competition drives us. Makes us better. But when did we forget that games are supposed to be fun?"
Ethan leaned closer to the camera.
"I saw players yesterday who were more worried about kill counts than about helping their teammates. Who valued personal glory over group success. And that makes me sad. Because Eternal Dominion has the potential to be something special. A place where we build each other up instead of tearing each other down."
No names. But everyone knew who he meant.
The comments were overwhelmingly positive.
"Crusader is such a class act."
"This is why I joined Crimson Vanguard. It's about the people."
"Some players need to hear this. Not naming names but... yeah."
Marcus closed the video.
Checked his own channel.
The fortress clear video had 1.2 million views. His subscriber count had jumped from 15,000 to 89,000 overnight.
But Ethan's video already had 200,000 views in one hour. His subscriber count: 340,000.
Different metrics. Different audiences.
Marcus was winning in the game.
Ethan was winning in the court of public opinion.
His phone rang. Unknown number.
Against his better judgment, he answered.
"Marcus Caldwell?"
"Speaking."
"I'm calling from HyperGear. We'd like to discuss a partnership opportunity."
Marcus almost laughed. Sarah had called it. "I'm currently in negotiations with another company."
"We're aware. We'd like to make a counter-offer. Would you be available for a meeting this afternoon?"
"No."
"Tomorrow?"
"I'll think about it."
"Mr. Caldwell, I don't think you understand. We're prepared to offer—"
"I don't care what you're prepared to offer. If you want a meeting, send details to my email. I'll respond if I'm interested."
He hung up.
The phone rang again immediately. Different number.
Red Bull this time.
Then Razer.
Then a gaming chair company he'd never heard of.
Marcus turned off his phone.
This was what success looked like. Everyone wanted a piece.
It should've felt good.
Instead, it felt like drowning.
He logged into Eternal Dominion at noon.
Needed to clear his head. Focus on something simple. Like killing monsters and collecting loot.
Millbrook had transformed overnight. Player-run shops everywhere. Auction houses. Guild recruitment stalls. The town had become a proper city.
And everywhere Marcus looked, he saw Crimson Vanguard banners.
They'd been busy.
"Ghost!" A player ran up. Level 14 warrior. Generic username. "Holy shit, dude, you're my hero. That fortress clear was insane!"
"Thanks."
"Can I get a screenshot? My guild won't believe I met you!"
"I'm busy—"
"Just one! Please!"
Marcus sighed. Stood next to the guy. Let him take the photo.
Then three more players wanted screenshots.
Then a dozen.
Marcus activated stealth mode and disappeared into the crowd.
This was new. Fame. Recognition. He'd had it in his first life—as Ethan's shadow. Always one step behind the spotlight.
Now the spotlight was on him directly.
He hated it.
Marcus found his team at the northern gate. They'd agreed to meet at noon for their first official dungeon run.
"There he is." Isabella waved. "The man of the hour."
"Don't start."
"What? You're trending on Twitter. That's an accomplishment."
"It's a distraction." Marcus pulled up the dungeon map. "We're here to work. Let's focus."
"Someone's grumpy," Mercy observed. "Tough morning?"
"Long morning." Marcus marked their route. "This dungeon is straightforward. Three bosses. Trash mobs between. Should take two hours if we don't screw around."
Shadowstrike was studying the map. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Just execution."
"There's always a catch."
Marcus smiled despite himself. "Smart. The third boss has a hidden mechanic. If you don't dispel his buff within five seconds, he wipes the raid."
"How do you know that?"
"I read the beta notes carefully." Lie. He knew because he'd watched Ethan's guild wipe to it seventeen times in his first life. "Mercy, that's your job. Watch for the purple debuff. Dispel immediately."
"Got it."
They entered the dungeon.
[BLACKWATER DEPTHS]
[RECOMMENDED LEVEL: 20-25]
[RECOMMENDED PLAYERS: 8-10]
They were five players. All between level 24-28 after the siege.
Overleveled but undermanned.
Perfect.
The dungeon was exactly as Marcus remembered. Dark corridors. Water dripping from ceilings. Enemies that hit hard but followed predictable patterns.
They cleared the first boss in twelve minutes.
Second boss in nine.
By the time they reached the third boss, they were ahead of schedule.
"Alright." Marcus positioned everyone. "Remember the mechanic. Purple buff. Five-second window. Mercy dispels. Everyone else burns him down."
"What if Mercy dies?" IronHide asked.
"She won't. I'll make sure of it."
They engaged.
The boss—a water elemental—was level 27. Hit like a truck.
But Marcus had fought it before. Knew every ability. Every tell.
When the purple buff appeared, Mercy was ready.
[BUFF DISPELLED]
The boss staggered. Vulnerable.
Marcus called the burn phase. Everyone unloaded.
The elemental died in forty seconds.
[DUNGEON COMPLETE: BLACKWATER DEPTHS]
[TIME: 1 HOUR, 34 MINUTES]
[NEW RECORD: FASTEST CLEAR]
More notifications. More achievements.
More attention Marcus didn't want.
"We're getting good at this," Isabella said. "Like, scary good."
"We're efficient. That's different."
"Is it though?" She looked at him. "Ghost, we just cleared content designed for ten players. With five. In record time. That's not just efficiency. That's dominance."
Marcus looted the final boss. Distributed the items. Said nothing.
Because Isabella was right.
They weren't just winning. They were making it look easy.
And that attracted attention. The kind he wasn't sure he wanted.
Marcus logged out at 6 PM.
His phone showed forty-seven missed calls. Twenty-three emails. Twelve text messages.
All business.
Except one.
LILY - MOBILE:Dinner tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something. It's important.
Marcus stared at the message.
Important could mean anything. School. Health. Money.
He typed back: Everything ok?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
LILY:Yeah. Just... can we talk in person?
MARCUS:Of course. What time?
LILY:7? I'll cook.
MARCUS:You don't have to cook.
LILY:I want to. See you tomorrow.
Marcus set his phone down.
Important. In person.
The worry gnawed at him.
In his first life, he'd missed the signs. Been too busy with the guild to notice when Lily started having headaches. Vision problems. By the time he paid attention, it was too late.
This time, he was paying attention.
But what if it was already happening?
What if coming back five years wasn't enough?
His laptop pinged. Email notification.
From: Richard Chen, NeuralTech
Subject: Additional Consideration
Marcus,
After our meeting, I did some more thinking. I want to add one more element to our offer: creative control. You decide what content you make, when you make it, and how you present yourself. No corporate oversight. No mandatory appearances. No forcing you to be someone you're not.
I've watched enough of your content to know you're not Crusader. You're not the guy who does daily vlogs and Q&As. You're the strategist. The winner. The player who makes the impossible look routine.
We want to sponsor that. Not change it.
Let me know.
- Richard
Marcus read it twice.
Creative control. That was worth more than money.
He replied:
Richard,
Deal. I'll sign tomorrow.
- Marcus
Hit send.
Leaned back in his chair.
It should've felt like victory.
Instead, it felt like selling a piece of himself.
But that's what success cost, wasn't it?
Everything had a price.
Marcus just hoped he could afford it.
His phone buzzed one more time.
A notification from the game forums.
New post from Crusader:
"Exciting News! Crimson Vanguard Announces First Official Raid Team"
Marcus opened it.
Ethan's post was professionally written. Probably had a PR person draft it.
We're thrilled to announce the formation of Crimson Vanguard's elite raid team. Twenty of our best players will attempt world-first clears on upcoming raid content. Applications are open to all guild members. We're looking for skilled players who embody our values: teamwork, dedication, and community spirit.
Twenty players. A full raid team.
Marcus's team had five.
The message was clear: We have the numbers. We have the organization. What do you have?
Marcus closed the forum.
Opened a new document.
PHASE TWO: GUILD ESTABLISHMENT
Timeline: 1 week
Objectives:
- Officially form guild: Ghost Legion
- Recruit 10 additional core members (total 15)
- Secure guild hall
- Begin raid preparation
- Maintain quality over quantity
He saved the document.
Tomorrow he'd sign a contract that would change his life.
Tomorrow he'd have dinner with Lily and find out what was wrong.
Tomorrow he'd start building something that could stand against Ethan's empire.
But tonight, he sat in the dark apartment and let himself feel the weight of it all.
The money. The fame. The expectations.
The ghost was becoming visible.
And visibility meant vulnerability.
Marcus thought about his first life. How quickly everything had fallen apart. How betrayal came from the places he'd trusted most.
This time, he wouldn't make that mistake.
This time, he wouldn't trust anyone.
Except Lily.
Always Lily.
His phone buzzed one last time.
Message from Isabella:
FrostQueen:Hey. You ok? You were weird after the dungeon.
Marcus stared at the message.
He could ignore it. Maintain distance. Keep the walls up.
Or he could be honest.
Ghost:Fine. Just thinking about what comes next.
FrostQueen:Want to talk about it?
Ghost:Not really.
FrostQueen:Ok. But if you do, I'm around. We're a team. That means something.
Marcus didn't respond.
Because if he responded, he might start believing her.
And belief was dangerous.
Belief was how Ethan had destroyed him the first time.
He closed the message.
Went to bed.
Dreamed of signatures on contracts written in blood.
And woke up knowing exactly what he had to do.