The boredom spreading across the world had become unbearable. In the great cities, people still had ways to distract themselves. Streets remained crowded, restaurants stayed open late, and entertainment districts tried desperately to keep citizens occupied. Even without the internet, there were still lights, music, and noise to drown out the silence creeping into people's minds.
The ones suffering the most were those stationed on the mana veins. Entire settlements had become isolated after the System swallowed communication infrastructure during the Integration. Phones no longer worked, satellites disappeared, and the internet that humanity once relied on vanished almost overnight. The only thing still functioning consistently was the official System news feed.
At first, many believed they could adapt easily. Most people had downloaded movies, games, and shows beforehand, expecting the outage to last only a few weeks. But after watching the same things repeatedly, the excitement faded quickly. Humanity realized the problem was not entertainment itself, but the constant connection they once took for granted.
Families could no longer casually contact loved ones living far away. Favorite content creators vanished without warning, ongoing shows stopped permanently, and online communities collapsed in days. The world suddenly felt much larger and much lonelier than before. Many people quietly admitted they missed the endless noise more than they ever expected.
With little else available, training became the new universal hobby. Martial arts schools became overcrowded, archery ranges remained packed from sunrise until nightfall, and adventurers spent absurd amounts of time practicing combat skills. Physical exhaustion became one of the few reliable ways to fight off the growing boredom consuming everyone.
"That's the thousandth one," Arin muttered quietly. He finished stringing another bow before placing it onto the counter. The weapon dissolved into glowing particles moments later as the System transferred it directly into the marketplace inventory. After weeks of nonstop crafting, the process barely required thought anymore.
The System Shop had become one of the most controversial additions since the Integration. Anyone could place items for sale, and anyone else in the world could purchase them instantly regardless of distance. Hunters sold monster materials across continents, craftsmen found customers globally, and rare resources circulated faster than governments could track.
Naturally, the System demanded payment for every transaction. Ten percent disappeared from the seller while another ten percent vanished from the buyer. A full twenty percent tax simply evaporated into the System itself. Humanity had directed an unbelievable amount of swearing toward the heavens after discovering that little detail.
If Gaia could respond personally, she would have explained the reasoning immediately. Without the premium attached to instant trade, humanity would eventually abandon rebuilding logistics entirely. Companies would never recover, transportation networks would never return, and traditional trade would collapse permanently under the convenience of magical delivery.
The additional cost forced businesses to remain relevant. Large organizations could still compete through bulk transportation and efficient logistics while independent craftsmen gained opportunities to profit through smaller specialty sales. It was cruel, frustrating, and annoyingly effective. Humanity hated it precisely because it worked.
Despite the complaints, many people secretly loved the new marketplace. Only around thirty percent of humanity had unlocked professions capable of creating genuine System-recognized items. Ordinary handcrafted equipment remained mundane, but profession-crafted items gained effects, attributes, and value after identification. That single difference changed entire industries overnight.
Guilds began forming almost immediately around various professions. They were not the fantasy-style guilds people once imagined, but more like old-world trade organizations mixed with survival groups. Blacksmiths shared resources together, alchemists traded recipes carefully, and craftsmen guarded secrets more fiercely than corporations once protected patents.
The governments, however, were collectively losing their minds. Their national currency reserves were hollowed out as the System economy expanded daily. A silver coin per million citizens sounded impressive until officials realized it barely fed a thousand people for a single day. Entire economic departments entered states of near permanent panic.
Ideas spread constantly between nations desperate for solutions. Some suggested creating currencies tied to wooden tokens while others proposed government-controlled exchanges backed by profession goods. Every proposal collapsed quickly because nobody actually possessed authority over the System itself. Humanity had entered an economy they did not control.
Then, exactly one month after the Integration, the System compensated humanity. Massive amounts of currency suddenly appeared within government reserves as payment for destroyed infrastructure and lost cultural assets consumed during the transition. Nobody understood how the System calculated "cultural energy value," but governments accepted the money without hesitation.
Only after receiving compensation did global leaders finally calm down slightly. The panic slowed, markets stabilized temporarily, and reconstruction plans resumed across most nations. Humanity still lacked control over the System economy, but at least civilization no longer looked moments away from financial collapse every single day.
"ARIN!" Jonhy suddenly shouted across the workshop. His younger brother jumped violently after being caught daydreaming beside a stack of unfinished arrows. Several workers nearby snickered quietly while pretending not to listen. Johnny rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before looking toward his older brother.
"Oh, what is it?" Arin asked suspiciously. "Do you need something?" Johnny nodded immediately before straightening his posture. "We need to start recording the games for the recruits," he explained calmly. "There are too many newcomers now for us to teach everyone personally anymore."
Arin immediately narrowed his eyes. "They finally found an excuse to get back at us, didn't they?" Johnny remained completely expressionless while delivering the fatal answer. "Yes. The mothers finished their tea gathering earlier." Arin felt genuine fear crawl down his spine after hearing those words.
"They're preparing revenge?" Arin asked carefully. Johnny nodded once. "They said today is the final chance before the Expansion ends tomorrow." Silence filled the workshop for several seconds before Arin covered his face with one hand. "Bastards," he muttered with absolute despair.
There was absolutely no practical reason to record the games today. The recruits would not even receive access to the footage for another year at minimum. This was clearly personal retaliation disguised as training material. Unfortunately, nobody in the family would ever admit that openly.
Arin walked through the workshop while grumbling under his breath. Finished bows lined the walls beautifully, each crafted with enough precision to resemble artwork rather than weapons. Their family had specialized in handmade bows and arrows long before the System arrived, and the Integration only increased demand for their skills dramatically.
The older generation remained significantly more skilled than the younger craftsmen. Because of that, the masterpieces produced by the elders stayed within the family while bows crafted by younger members were sold publicly through the marketplace. Some heirloom bows carried enough value to bankrupt smaller guilds entirely.
Unfortunately, Arin had more immediate concerns than family business traditions. Whenever the entire family participated in the games together, the punishment for losing became horrifyingly severe. The loser would endure a full week of customized "training" designed personally by every participating relative.
Nobody escaped that experience happily.
Arin quietly equipped his protective gear while mentally preparing for suffering. Thick clothing came first, followed by specialized arrows and finally the goggles everyone hated passionately. The protective lenses restricted vision terribly, but without them someone would eventually lose an eye during training accidents.
The arrows themselves used lead-filled rubber tips strong enough to leave bruises through armor. Even the bows used during family matches were specially designed to limit draw strength because anything above fifty pounds quickly became lethally dangerous. Their family took competition seriously, but not seriously enough to permit fatalities.
"Look who finally arrived," Karl announced loudly. A grin spread across his face as Arin stepped onto the archery field carrying his equipment. The rest of the family already stood waiting across the range with bows prepared. Several cousins stretched excitedly while others watched him like predators spotting prey.
"Are you prepared to be hunted?" Karl asked cheerfully. "Yes," Arin answered cautiously while scanning the crowd. "What game mode are we playing?" Deep inside, he prayed desperately for anything except battle royale. Team games at least offered opportunities to share suffering with others.
"Battle royale," Karl answered immediately.
Arin nearly collapsed on the spot.
"I wish you luck," Karl continued with visible amusement. "You'll need it. Quite a few people seem especially motivated today." Arin slowly turned toward the waiting group and immediately regretted it. The eagerness shining in everyone's eyes felt genuinely terrifying.
His cousins looked excited. His uncles looked eager. His grandfather looked nostalgic. Worst of all, his father looked personally determined to eliminate him first. At that moment, Arin realized survival itself might already be impossible regardless of strategy.
Karl casually raised the starting pistol into the air. The entire field fell completely silent as everyone prepared themselves mentally. Arin lowered his stance instinctively while tightening his grip around the bowstring. Every survival instinct in his body screamed at him to run already.
"Begin."
The gunshot echoed across the field.
Arin immediately sprinted like a man fleeing death itself.