The Cron Exploitation Loop
A brief silence settled between Rosalyn and me, laced with doubt, bewilderment, and a touch of longing. A whirlwind of emotions swirled in the air before scattering into nothingness.
It was Rosalyn who broke the quiet.
"Hey, Berga... do you think Dad might still be alive...?"
"...I doubt it. It's probably something else entirely."
"Yeah... you're right..."
"...Thanks for the info. Don't worry about it too much. Focus on surviving. If you learn anything else, I'll be in touch."
"Okay... got it... I'll look into it too! Who knows what else might pop up next time?"
The conversation with Rosalyn fizzled out ambiguously like that. We both held back from rash guesses, leaving only a massive question hanging in the air.
My head throbbed. It felt like another enormous layer had piled onto the already scattered worries and suspicions—like laundry stacking up.
But I had to deal with it. I'd always put off laundry, but solving problems? That was my forte. I'd honed my skills organizing data.
I slowly retraced my memories, starting just before the Nakan Jungle.
"Tosa dogs are the waves, and we're the meat lumps. So, is the Tosa dog's owner the Management Bureau?"
An irresistible summons. Forcing mercenaries into battlefields and waves. Sure, that was the job. I'd suspected the Management Bureau might be behind the waves, but it felt like a stretch.
That suspicion evolved during the wave saturation. What if... they were really trying to kill us mercenaries?
If the Management Bureau was truly feeding mercenaries to the waves like bait, why? Waves try to kill mercenaries. Those who can't hold out die. Not all of us, of course. Mercenaries like me sweep the field, earn commendations, rack up contribution points. Only the weak ones get swallowed by the waves.
The strong pay a cut of their Cron to the Management Bureau as fees. The weak die on the field without earning a dime.
What about the gray area in between? The majority who perform adequately, snag decent contributions, take some wounds, and survive. They hand over their remaining Cron to the Bureau too—for potions to heal wounds, gear to stay alive, consumables to endure the mercenary grind.
The more the waves claw at mercenaries, the more profitable it gets.
Commanders aren't much different. That's key. They basically face the waves head-on, burning through their own Cron in the process.
The cognitive rift hit at Asherburn Manor, from Rosalyn's words.
"The alert window... it suddenly showed sellable items..."
Securing Cron through alert windows. In the game, Cron was a reward for clearing waves—a game currency tied to each wave. Here in this made-real world, I'd vaguely assumed it was linked to the world's resources from defending against waves. Something like in-game currency, an unspoken hunch.
"...Not the currency of Astellan?"
"Nope! Astellan uses gold coins! The unit is gold!"
My hunch shattered, and the truth emerged. The Management Bureau was blatantly designating "sellable items" to plunder something from the commanders' worlds.
Not all commanders would sell off their world's goods. Some might get aid from their own realms—the kingdom's support, frontline supplies. Ednfelt Wall's exceptional prep suggested as much.
Whatever. Waves get harder on every front. Would the Bureau, which dispatches mercenaries, not sell supplies? Defense weapons and gear? They already hawk armor, weapons, even skills to mercenaries.
Commanders' pockets run dry as waves demand more spending. The Bureau whispers in their ears: Summon mercenaries. Buy supplies. Short on Cron? Sell something from your world.
Just like the in-app purchase prompts I'd gotten.
A meticulously crafted exploitation structure centered on Cron. They pry it from commanders to give to mercenaries, then squeeze it back from us.
Only commanders can see it. Only mercenaries notice.
What is Cron, really? Why do other mercenaries crave it enough to contract with the Bureau? Does it convert to money from our original worlds?
Ha. Ironically, as a transmigrator, I know nothing. I'm both commander and mercenary, but I'm Jeong Ji-hoon, not Berga.
It all points to one thing: Cron. This massive structure revolves around it.
To uncover it, I need to meet other commanders. Other mercenaries too.
And one more: survive.
Back to square one.
A good night's sleep cleared my tangled head. Long projects always ended with 10 or 11 hours of shut-eye. Before Fortress of End, anyway.
Anyway. Think simple.
The shady corp I work for. Uncover its goal. Escape it.
Do both in parallel. If not, prioritize escape.
Everything circles back to survival, then spec-ups.
Exploitation or not, summons can't be refused. "But the waves are trying to kill me!" Whining won't help—no one's listening.
Get stronger or die.
Check current status.
Two skills lucked out from the familiar contract: a bit of survival, a bit of AoE.
Armor gone. One potion left.
"Hmm..."
A-grade still top priority? Tough call. Should I spend Cron? More precisely, hand it over to the Management Bureau?
I ranted about grand conspiracies, but it doesn't feel real. Currency that doesn't show up physically, just numbers on an alert window. No clue on practical use or true meaning yet.
Still feels off. The Bureau wants mercenaries blowing it in the Cron Shop.
"What to do..."
No. Vengeance exploded at Asherburn Manor. Already burned my hand? What if the next sudden summon is some insane difficulty wave? Three Garkans each riding a Flesh Golem? Real talk.
Conclusion: Spend when you have it.
Wait, more than calculated. About 1,500 extra? Kiara's sponsorship?
"Don't die. This is to make sure you don't."
Yeah.
...No real dilemma after all.
Damn. Leather armor's the legendary grade at 237,000 Cron. MugyeokGeomCheon would need 40 years of window-licking for his sword; 320 for dragon leather.
Bust? About to switch to potions when—
Silk Bracelet of Lightness? Not even full cloth gear. A single bracelet at this price? Suspicious.
No special ability popup like with the Ironscale Wolf Leather Armor. But really no special effect? That legendary "Mana-Spitting Robe" had one. Bracelet among tons of armor. Zero defense rating, yet pricey. Name screams "lightness."
Couldn't resist.
Next thing I knew, I was opening a small gift-box-sized package. No popup, as expected. But equipping it...
Silk Bracelet of Lightness effect integrated into Agile Movements.
Agile Movements has become More Agile Movements.
Oh. It works. Even better this way. Honestly, the leather armor blocked some Flesh Golem blood, but otherwise? Never really saved me. I deflect arrows; bullets? I shoot better. Glass cannons don't get scratches—they either tank and die or dodge.
Bought one more potion, closed the shop.
Recalling the Flesh Golem, maybe another weapon? But summons go to battlefields. Ask the commander for a dagger or shortsword as backup. Purchased gear doesn't repair anyway.
Tucked the Silk Bracelet under my clothes carefully. Good. Maintenance done. Tasks sorted. Status checked. Prep complete.
Feels refreshing. Now, check community for world news till the next summon. Feels like I forgot something. Probably not important.
Erika's gone weird? Not because of me... right? More than that... assassins get this much hate? Game unit was niche, but still stings a bit. Daggers suck... baseball bats win... Anyway.
No change in the sunset. So not the sky—some other realm? More importantly, he deleted that window-opening post I saw.
Summon request for hero unit 'Slicer Berga' on the battlefield.
Teleporting shortly. Check battlefield info.
Summon alert right on cue. Hope for an easy field this time. Normal one. Somewhere to test new Blood Slaughter Wave would be ideal.
Gratia Sanctuary
Wave: 32
Commander: Aurea Lumen
Sanctuary? Not a wall—a sanctuary. Can guess. No modern warfare, Wave 32's fair. Let's go.
I surrender to the rising white light.