Insomniac Player

Imran took control of the conversation without raising his voice.

"No speculation outside this call," he said. "No purchases until we assess the evidence. Sir Martin, secure the channel."

Martin touched something beyond his projection.

➤[Communication security increased.]

➤[External recording disabled.]

➤[Participants: 9.]

Rahul lifted one eyebrow. "It is comforting that you order a field marshal around exactly as Damien ordered us during the tutorial."

"You can ignore me if the instruction is poor," Imran said.

"I did not ignore it," Martin said.

Damien placed the parchment on the table and enlarged each stanza. Imran requested the dates of previous system changes. Daria opened a second panel and aligned version histories beside the words. Within minutes, the call became less like a reunion and more like an investigation.

The first line matched the initial gamification.

The second matched the update that established broader channels and system-recognized regional structures.

"What are seas of gold?" Hamari asked.

"Grain," Martin said.

"Corn in particular," Imran added. "It is entering critical growth stages across multiple agricultural regions."

Hamari rotated upright. "Fields Will Walk is nightmare fuel, by the way."

Doctor Smoke finally lit her cigarette. The Gate camp’s ventilation pulled the smoke away. "A dense swarm makes the ground look alive. I saw ordinary locust damage before the system. Nothing supernatural was required to strip farms."

"This will be supernatural," Naked Nun said hopefully.

"You sound proud of the insects."

"I respect commitment."

Damien watched Imran arrange the evidence into columns. The general didn’t accept Damien’s conclusion simply because Damien had found it. He tested every part, rejected two weaker interpretations, and requested agricultural maps.

The result remained the same.

"Probability?" Martin asked.

Imran answered. "A locust-type global event is the strongest interpretation. The patch number that matches the first two stanzas makes it more than coincidence. I would prepare military reserves immediately."

Daria nodded. "Agreed."

One by one, the others accepted it.

Damien had expected to argue longer.

Apparently, predicting the end of a harvest became easier when the prophecy included the phrase the fields will walk.

Martin opened a private administrative window. "I will alert the prime minister and the agricultural ministry under maximum classification. We can inspect national reserves, protect seed stores, and move anti-swarm equipment without announcing the reason."

"Do not concentrate everything in government warehouses," Damien said.

Martin paused. "Why?"

"The Neva Order has people inside institutions. A list of emergency stores becomes a list of targets."

Imran’s expression hardened. "Distributed storage. Separate authorizations. No single officer receives the complete map."

"And use ordinary inventory holders," Daria said. "Physical warehouses can be raided. High-capacity storage classes can separate reserves across trusted players."

Hamari raised her hand. "I own exactly enough inventory space for ammunition, snacks, and the cursed helmet."

"Discard the helmet," Daria said.

"We’ve bonded."

Doctor Smoke leaned closer to her projection. "Medical facilities need independent food reserves. If transport collapses, hospitals will burn through what they have quickly."

"Military bases as well," Imran said.

"Guild compounds," Rahul added. "Most guilds keep monster materials, not grain. I can change ours within hours."

Damien looked around the call. "Stock crops, animal feed, seed, and preserved food," he said. "Quietly. Do not empty civilian markets."

Naked Nun appeared disappointed. "So we aren’t buying every bag in Viremont?"

"That would create the shortage before the locusts."

"Enemies who can be defeated by responsible shopping are unsatisfying."

"Think of panic buyers as a hostile crowd," Hamari suggested.

"Better."

Martin sent the parchment and their analysis through a restricted government channel. Less than two minutes later, his eyes moved to a message only he could see.

"The Prime Minister accepts the preliminary assessment. Emergency preparations are authorized."

John looked toward the city. "Government preparations protect government stores. What about everyone else?"

"Regional announcements can be issued once we confirm the nature of the update," Martin said.

"After it begins," Damien replied.

"Announcing an unverified locust invasion could collapse commodity markets across Earth-69."

"I know."

That was the problem.

If they warned the world, millions would buy food at once. Merchants would raise prices. Criminal groups would seize transport routes. The Neva Order could acquire warehouses before governments secured them.

If they said nothing, the three days would simply run out.

Damien understood why prophecies were usually delivered to heroes in isolated mountains. Markets made everything complicated.

"We prepare enough that an announcement won’t cause panic," he said. "Then Elias decides when to warn people."

Martin nodded. "Reasonable."

Imran began assigning voluntary tasks, even though only Martin held formal authority over anyone present.

He would inspect military food reserves and agricultural defense units. Martin would coordinate with Elias and compartmentalize warehouse protection. Rahul would secure his guild’s stores and contact reliable merchant guilds without sharing the prophecy. Daria would use her family network to identify available grain supplies and transport contracts.

Doctor Smoke would prepare hospitals.

Hamari would do nothing unsupervised.

"Targeted," Hamari said. "Oppressed. Silenced by the state."

"You posted a poll asking whether the patch would add dragons," Imran said.

"Public morale research."

Naked Nun received responsibility for checking the Gate camp’s supplies with Doctor Smoke.

"Can I prepare flamethrowers?" she asked.

"After the food," Martin said.

"This government respects compromise."

The hall began emptying. Before Daria disconnected, she looked at Damien.

"What will you do?"

Damien had been wondering the same thing.

He possessed several thousand gold coins, a penthouse, an honorary major designation, and almost no understanding of Earth-69’s business system. He could buy food for himself and the orphanage. This would potentially benefit only a few hundred people.

The riddle did not say kitchens would become thrones.

It said storehouses.

"I’ll find someone who understands commodities," he said.

Rahul’s image remained. "My guild employs traders."

"Your guild is visible. If it begins buying grain, others will follow."

"True." Rahul considered him. "Use a System-certified agent. Independent business classes accept confidentiality contracts, and their professional skills can conceal the pattern of distributed purchases."

"Send me the registry."

Rahul did.

Imran was the final person to leave, besides Martin.

"Damien," he said, "preparing privately is sensible. Profiting from food scarcity is a different matter."

John watched Damien from across the table.

Damien understood the warning.

"Food reaches people before profit does," he said. "But if the prediction is right, whoever controls supply will influence where it goes. I would prefer that the Neva Order not be the one in control."

Imran held his gaze, then nodded once. "Report any suspicious sellers to me."

The call ended.

John sat opposite Damien. Broken pieces of the light fixture still rested in a box near the wall.

"You intend to invest," he said.

"Yes."

"With several thousand gold?"

"I intend to hire someone first."

"That was not my question."

Damien opened the registry Rahul had sent.

Thousands of professional profiles filled the air: brokers, warehouse managers, trade-route planners, appraisers, procurement specialists, and classes whose descriptions used the word liquidity often enough to sound threatening.

"How much liquid gold do you have?" Damien asked.

John’s eyes narrowed.

"That is also not an answer."

"It is related."

"How related?"

Damien looked at the countdown.

➤[Patch Deployment: 69:11:42]

"Possibly all of it."

John stared at him for a long moment.

Then his mustache rose.

"Good," he said. "Your recovery was becoming boring."

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