The Hundredth Wave's Dawn

"Tell me."

"Yes... It says that only after surviving the hundredth night will a new morning finally dawn. But... why are you asking about something like this?"

The hundredth wave. Not exactly groundbreaking info. The game was unforgiving, but it had its fanbase, and there were guesses it might wrap up around round 100. Even on the easiest accounts, difficulty spiked hard past wave 90—that was the consensus among players.

What I really wanted was what came after. The final clear reward. A new morning? Some abstract crap like a new world opening up?

...I've got a few things to mull over.

"Ah... I see. I was just wondering if there was a problem since you asked something so obvious."

Obvious? That monsters pour out periodically like clockwork is obvious? And blocking them is common sense? What kind of fucked-up world is this? Are other worlds like this too?

I pulled myself together and asked again.

"Then what does this 'new morning' mean?"

"Uh... It's doctrine, so it's hard to explain..."

"Skip the religious parts as much as possible."

"Hmm... Without the religious angle... the world's rank elevates...?"

Rank again. My off-the-cuff dimensional gear theory was spot on. Waves as trials leading to it. Holy shit, it's real.

"By any chance... do you know what Cron is?"

"Uh... currency, right?"

"Nothing beyond that?"

"No... I just know it's a kind of sacrifice offered up when requesting aid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from beyond the dimension."

Damn. The world wasn't handing over that final piece so easily.

"Any sellable items or something?"

"No... nothing like that."

Dead end, then.

"Got it. That helped a lot. Thanks."

"Hehe! Glad I could help!"

Hespera beamed, relieved. Yeah. Figuring out what the Management Bureau is up to and what they want—that's my problem. More precisely, it's because I'm stuck in this 1,000-year contract. Or even more precisely, it's my obsessive need to nail down every last bit of data-like info.

Whether Hespera or Adrian, the Knox Sanctuary does the same job. Sixty-seven more times ahead.

Let's sort this out. In my past life, I died buried in paperwork. Now, possessed into Mr. Elite Mob Shredder, and it's still sorting. But what can you do? Just like childhood memories shape a lifetime, those grinding grad school days made me who I am. The professor would've loved hearing that.

Anyway. The Management Bureau—this mega-corp—is exploiting mercenaries, commanders, and the world itself for Cron. Waves might be their tool, or not. But they're shitty either way. Natural disaster creators or exploiters—same difference between bastard and fucker?

New info from Knox: Waves are trials for the world; overcome them, and it leaps to a better state. Way too hostile and destructive for "trials," though.

And rank—tied to dimensional layers. Judging by how I mass-suicided those vampire nobodies, the Waiting Room—Management Bureau's world—is high-dimensional. Waves are lower down. That's why they skim Cron so casually.

Two lingering questions. First: Where do mercenaries come from? Easy—I'm clueless 'cause it's me. A merc spotted me at Gravenfelt. Probably happens on future battlefields. Grab one, interrogate. Mercs have their own community too. Okay.

Second: What the hell is Cron? This feels core. No clue. Management Bureau obsesses over it, so it must be huge... Only guess is Rosalyn's "sellable items"...

《No.》

Why's Management Bureau so fixated? Even if I knew, would it change much? If Cron's just money and they're mildly colonial, I could look the other way. But if they cross the line... I'd stop them if I could. Find a way. I've seen too many little people crushed by the big picture.

Four digits already. Blasted through Gratia and Knox without checking. Only bought one potion. Window at 0.4 yet? My Boundless Sword Heaven—40 years of effort, 40% filled. Situations complicate, mind races, but numbers never lie. Data I sorted endlessly proved that. Or did it?

Anyway. No urge to spend yet... but window needs thought. Peek at the shop?

Familiar translucent screen, usual wares. Huh? Consumables tab—special items not sold out today.

Status Ailment Recovery Potion—I saw it in community posts about mental issues. Elixir? Name and price scream top-tier.

Community search... Obvious. Stock vanishes fast. Never seen it in stock. Buy first, think later. Regret missing it, and it'll come in handy someday.

Sure enough, two glass vials appeared on the drawer: different sizes. One green—like health or stamina potions, just different color. Probably the status one. Next to it, bigger, fancier bottle. Pale purple contents shimmering like living light. Alive, almost. Slightly larger, ornate.

What's this? Time for senior wisdom.

Good choice. No pain, full heal... Status potion covers all ailments per some threads—ambiguous but no pain either. Ailments seem like debuffs/incapacitation.

Nice. Since community's open, check Cron too—no detours.

Vibe shift from pay gripes? Other posts same: low contribution means low pay complaints. Community comfort and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roasting noobs. Some bragging. Common thread: voluntary contracts, earning Cron as pay. Seems like currency to mercs... No idea. Can't just post "What is Cron?"—I'd get aggro. Should've reined in my alt self. Better ask someone in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠person later.

"Phew..."

Wish I had someone reliable. Bounce ideas, compare notes. Anonymous boards have limits. Cross-check Hespera's words too—religious bias. Plus, this stifling solo brainstorming vibe.

"Someone on my side..."

Wait. Capable, commander, high-wave defender. Super cooperative, no liar vibe. Cron to spare. Shockingly, exists.

This right...? Feels whiny, like begging for a slot... No, circumstances forced it...

Aigoo. Such a swift reply.