"Special Item: Heart of the Brave, sourced from the ’Brave’ dungeon — 80,000 points. (Fixed Price)."
Fenric’s eyes lit up.
Finally. Exactly what he’d been searching for.
According to the system’s description, Heart of the Brave grants its user unwavering courage and fearlessness. Simple words... but the implication was priceless.
Fear has always been humanity’s greatest weakness. Under its grip, even the smartest individuals make irrational choices.
Take zombies, for example.
In theory, humans should hold the advantage — intellect, tools, environmental leverage. Victory should be possible. Yet in reality, most people freeze at the mere sight of a zombie, legs shaking, mind blank. Under extreme terror, they can’t resist—often fleeing blindly into dead ends, sealing their own fate.
QThat is the true power of fear.
For Samsara players, fear is fatal. They play with death at their heels. Lose your nerve for even a second, and you’ll never make it out alive.
Which is why an unwavering heart is worth more than any weapon.
Heart of the Brave wasn’t just a trinket. It was a lifesaver—and a game-changer. Against Renée, that terrifying ghost born of pure resentment, its value was obvious. But Fenric’s ambition went beyond surviving a ghost. In the upper layers of the Samsara Tower, courage would be indispensable.
Compared to that, the ghost problem was almost incidental.
"It’s just the price..."
Eighty thousand points. Fixed price. No bargaining.
Clearly, the seller knew what they had.
Fenric’s current balance couldn’t even graze that figure.
But he wasn’t worried. He already had a plan.
Leaving the mall, Fenric headed east toward the glowing district known as Entertainment City—a sprawling complex designed to bleed points from Samsara players under the guise of "stress relief." Every region had one. Facing death daily frays the mind; the system offered temptation as a balm.
Here, anything was possible if you had points. Drinks. Drugs. Virtual pleasures. The infamous suite service even let you conjure a partner straight from your imagination—heavenly fairy or femme fatale, the system didn’t judge.
Of course, it came at a staggering cost: tens of thousands of points for two hours of indulgence. Only whales dared play that game.
Beyond that, there were killing simulations, blood sports, and entertainments darker still. Entertainment City wasn’t just a playground. It was a pit designed to swallow the greedy whole.
Fenric ignored all distractions and slipped into a packed bar thrumming with bass and laughter. Here, debauchery flowed unchecked—no laws, no cops. Just Samsara players blowing off steam before their next life-or-death run.
He didn’t waste time. Marching to the service counter, he slapped down 100 Samsara points—the fee for five minutes on the mic.
Five minutes. Enough for what he intended.
At this moment, the stage stood empty. Perfect.
Fenric climbed up, took the mic, and cleared his throat.
His voice rang out, amplified across the venue:
"Hello, everyone... I’m Shura."
The effect was instant.
The bar froze mid-motion. Glasses hovered in midair. Music still pulsed, but no one heard it.
Every head turned.
Dead silence.
Because in the past two days, "Shura" had become a name of legend. A thunderclap that rolled across the entire Samsara Space. His SSS-rated clear had dominated every forum, every whisper.
And now... he was here!