Insomniac Player

The notification appeared at 2:17 in the afternoon. Damien was lying on the lounge floor because John had banned him from the terrace, and the bedroom felt too far away. Walk of Night rested open beside his head. His mana had recovered to thirty-one percent.

John slept across the largest sofa, occupying it diagonally with both arms spread. One hand hung near the floor. Each snore made the empty glasses on the table vibrate.

The entire penthouse turned blue. Every screen went blank. The windows darkened, the lights stopped responding, and a clear tone rang through the building.

Damien sat up. A rectangular system panel formed in the center of his vision.

➤[Global System Notification]

➤[All Players of Earth-69 will receive this message.]

➤[Patch update scheduled.]

➤[Deployment begins in: 72:00:00.]

➤[New Patch Version: 1.3.10]

➤[Patch Content: Hidden.]

➤[Further information will become available upon deployment.]

The tone ended. Viremont erupted. Chat windows filled before the city lights returned. Public channels moved too quickly to read. Players posted theories, warnings, celebrations, and offers to sell supplies that had not yet become scarce. News broadcasts changed their schedules within seconds.

John snored again.

Damien stared at the number.

One...

...

...

Three...

...

Ten!

His hand moved toward his inventory before the thought had fully formed.

The parchment appeared between his fingers.

It looked ordinary: brown, creased, and written in dark ink that never faded. Damien had received it inside the Riddled Dungeon.

The first time he read it, most of the lines had seemed like elaborate nonsense. Then the Global Chat had decoded the riddle.

"When the first stands alone, the world awakens. When the third walks beside it, kingdoms take root. When the ninth whispers farewell, the old road ends. Yet beware the tenth child who follows quietly. Not with blade. Nor with thunder. Nor with plague. Green shall descend from the heavens, and the seas of gold shall become forgotten. Those who prepare before the song begins shall laugh while others mourn. Those who ignore the silent counting shall suffer beneath a summer sun. Remember the path of numbers. One. Three. Ten."

Locusts. A swarm large enough to turn the sky into a mouth. Insects stripping crops bare, one bite at a time. Fields would appear to ripple as millions of bodies crossed them. Storehouses would become more valuable than castles once the harvest disappeared.

Damien opened the regional agricultural calendar.

Earth-69’s altered climate had not eliminated seasons. Most northern regions were in the height of summer. Corn, wheat, soy, and several system-grown feed crops covered enormous areas. Southern regions were approaching different harvest stages, but global transportation had made food networks more interconnected, and therefore more vulnerable, not less. He checked current crop reserves.

The public data showed a comfortable supply, a comfort that assumed the next harvest would actually happen.

The patch would deploy in three days.

Damien looked at John. "Mr. John."

The giant continued sleeping while snoring.

"Mr. John."

The snoring paused, then resumed with greater confidence.

Damn snorlax!!

Damien considered walking over but decided his ribs didn’t deserve the effort.

He shouted. "MR. JOHN!"

John came off the sofa straight up. His head struck the suspended light fixture. The fixture broke, the table shook, and a mace appeared in his hand before both feet reached the floor. "WHERE IS THE ENEMY?"

"Here."

John turned in a full circle, searching for attackers. He found only Damien, the parchment, and several pieces of expensive lighting falling onto the carpet.

"Why are you yelling?"

"You didn’t wake up."

"I thought someone was killing you."

"Something may be planning to starve us."

John lowered the mace. "Can you stop being a riddler?"

Damien handed him the parchment and pointed toward the notification still hovering in the air.

John read the version number. Then he read the final stanza.

His expression changed before he reached the last line.

"Seas of gold," he said.

"Crops."

"Green shall descend."

"Locusts."

Line by line, Damien decoded the future patch parchment.

For once, John did not accuse Damien of overthinking. He walked to the window and looked over Viremont. Advertisements were already changing to patch-themed sales. Commentators on a nearby tower screen debated new classes, additional servers, and whether the level cap would increase.

No one mentioned crops.

"How certain?"

"Enough to prepare. Not enough to announce it publicly without proof."

"Why not warn everyone?"

"Because if we’re wrong, we create panic. If we’re right and announce it badly, people empty shops in one day, prices rise before the insects arrive, and the Order hears exactly what the government knows."

John glanced toward him. "You are already thinking about the Neva Order."

"They control transport and warehouses. Elias showed us."

The red points on the underground map had followed rail lines, agricultural centers, and trade cities.

At that time, Damien had not recognized the significance of the red dots.

Now, it felt like one warning nested within another warning.

He opened a group call and selected the Nova Corps, Imran, Rahul, and Sir Martin. His thumb stopped over Elias Rowe’s name. Damien didn’t have direct contact clearance for the prime minister.

Martin could involve him instead. The call rang.

Hamari answered first. Her face appeared upside down.

"If this is about the patch, I bet there will be a secret pet system."

Imran connected next from a military command room. Daria’s image appeared from a gate camp, followed by Doctor Smoke, Naked Nun, and Rahul. Martin joined last.

Once everyone had arrived, Damien explained the contents of the parchment.

"Why is John holding a mace indoors?" Rahul asked.

"Damien woke me violently."

"I used my voice."

"Violently."

Martin looked from Damien to the parchment. "You recognized the version."

"Yes."

Damien enlarged the final stanza for everyone to see.

The joking stopped.

"I think the patch is a locust attack," he said.

For three seconds, no one spoke.

Then Naked Nun leaned toward her screen.

"How large are the locusts?"

Doctor Smoke rubbed her forehead. "That is your first question?"

"It determines the weapon."

Damien looked at the countdown.

➤[71:42:09]

"We have less than three days to find out," he said.

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