First Cash-Out

From dawn until late morning, he repeated hunt after hunt in the orc burrow. After clearing out all the mobs in the first chamber, a second chamber of similar structure appeared. Once those mobs were dealt with too, the path ended at the orc priest boss 'Uta'.

As it was a boss mob, and with the massive level gap still in play, it felt too early to challenge it. He didn't bother trying. Once it started dropping loot reliably, he'd farm it until he was sick of it. Until then, grinding levels as fast as possible was the best move.

Lanpord's shield charge proved surprisingly useful, so he resummoned the titan and kept pulling mob packs for AoE farming. Then, out of nowhere, a global announcement popped up.

It was the birth announcement of the second player-founded nation in Tayen: Reverse, meaning rebirth. He'd expected them to rush the process since nations doubled tax revenue, but he hadn't anticipated it'd happen so quietly the very next day.

'Well, flashy stuff like coronations is Darius's style. That guy's all about pretending to be classy while hamming it up with his role-playing and attention-seeking.'

Darius talked like he was actual royalty, dripping with obnoxious bravado that made your skin crawl. In contrast, the Hellfire he'd met exuded the seasoned polish of someone who'd weathered twenty years of ups and downs in the gaming industry. True to form, he'd prioritized efficiency, declaring the nation this quickly.

That made two nations in Tayen already. Regular players might miss the implications, but Sandro knew. A single nation could have stayed under wraps for a while, but with two, the secret would leak soon enough.

That players could now produce Titans directly starting at the nation level!

Chasing rankers like this wouldn't cut it anymore. He had to surpass them—get ahead before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they pulled further away. Only then could he wage war on Taesung single-handedly.

The announcement reignited his fire just as a whisper pinged in.

Hellfire, who should be swamped with nation-building, reached out first.

Maybe it was just words, but he felt worlds apart from Hidden Card. No, a sense of trust crept in unbidden—this guy was different.

Despite the chaos, Hellfire personally came out to the safe outer village and handed over the remaining 1 million gold—the second half of the fee.

"A smooth deal with great results for both sides. Here's to meeting with smiles next time."

"Maintaining good ties with a nation's king? That's a win for me. I'll put this gold to good use."

"I'd love to recruit you to Phoenix, but you're already out-earning me. Can't even dream of it. Getting this much gold at once is rare enough, and now you get the castle taxes solo for a month... You're set."

"Grew up broke, so yeah, it's surreal. But with spare gold and a castle now, time for my first cash-out in ages."

"Pardon? You've never cashed out before? I figured you'd liquidated plenty along the way..."

"Needed gear cash ASAP, and Darius's crew had me paranoid. Double reason to hold off."

"Bold playstyle, and turns out you've got insane patience too. Go splurge on something nice."

"Was planning to. Not that I've lived long, but... yeah, the pricier, the better."

Gold Exchange. Commonly called GTB among players, it was the in-game exchange where you swapped game gold for virtual currency.

Back in his childhood, it felt like the gaming industry had fully shifted from PC to mobile. Iconic PC IPs all got mobile remakes, dragging players to the convenient, always-on mobile platforms.

But that brought problems. With free access baked in, most devs went partial pay-to-win, flooding games with gacha and loot boxes. Players shelled out from millions to billions of won in cutthroat spending wars.

Worse, devs rigged drop rates, faked probabilities, and drew public backlash for shady tactics.

Fed-up users demanded a return to subscription models. Then Illusion dropped the world's first VR game with a fresh monetization twist: cash-out fees on item trades.

They dotted GTBs across villages, letting players freely trade gold for real-world Byte Coins. Revolutionary.

Byte Coins were basically cash nowadays, making in-game-to-real trades dead simple. Just a 5% NPC exchange fee, and Illusion raked in over 3 trillion won annually from the Korean server alone.

This system purged the toxic cash shop items that wrecked old MMOs.

"Whoa, been ages since I hit a GTB—almost two months? Still packed with deadbeats grinding here!"

After grabbing the gold from Hellfire, he headed to Kaljen Castle's GTB.

Ironic. When scraping by monthly, he'd hit GTBs for pocket change. Now, months after scoring billions in gear value, he finally showed up.

Couldn't predict gold needs, and early on, Park Taehu's offline stalking had him laying low. But now? Spare gold aplenty, plus a month of fat taxes incoming.

Plus, real-life gear rivaled in-game loot in necessity.

Bi Sang Gu's insane chain dodges. Compared to my Focus Evasion in the Rozentas fight... I'm a hair short.

Recent PvP honed his weaknesses. AI mobs were predictable; players hit unpredictably, with wild feints.

He could read battles in the heat, but his body lagged behind his commands.

Bi Sang Gu weaving through a sky ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of projectiles, barely grazed. Rankers were no joke.

That razor-thin dodge? Minimal movement to redirect attacks.

Solo? He could match it. But Rozentas' massive melee? Eyes tracked, body didn't—active Focus Evasion underutilized.

One tick short. Keeps forcing passes. Prime skill if mastered... Passive's gold, but wasting active sucks!

Resign to control limits? Or grind for growth?

One ace left: ample cash!

Midnight boards at GTB posted daily Tayen gold drops and trades—transparent, cross-verified. Sandro skimmed it; Illusion's pride, globally praised.

Clink! Inventory gold dipped by 1.5 million amid the sound effect.

Logged out, checked smartphone wallet.

Over 130 million won glaring back. Head knew it, but now it hit: Tayen earnings were real.

Few clicks transferred 30 million to his bank; rest stayed in Byte Coins for purchases.

Quick shower, outfit swap—then Hyunjung called.

The TX-PRO capsule—capsule kingpin spec—had dropped days ago. He'd waited ages.

"Check it out before you go! What're you shopping for?"

"We'll match any price—just come see! DX? FX? Test drives for all!"

Yongsan International Business District. Once electronics mecca, now business hub after a decade-plus shift. Other gadgets faded, but capsules kept its holy status.

"Sorry, headed somewhere specific."

Two-hour drive from Hyunjung's car to Seoul: TX-PRO was ultra-premium, limited offline stock.

Online possible, but purchase logs or install techs at home? Still risky.

Lucky—Hyunjung hooked him up safe.

"Bro! Here!"

"Whoa! Good to see you, Hyunjung. Aunt says you're still jobless?"

"Hey! First words after ages? You know I'm taking over the family biz!"

"Haha! Still full of yourself, huh?"

Ain Tech. Hyunjung's cousin's capsule shop. Dozens lined up; biggest on the floor.

Hyunjung's fam loaded top to bottom. Shop's massive...

"This the guy for the TX Pro?"

"Yeah, my buddy—talk casual."

"Customer's a customer. Welcome! Ain Tech's owner, Kim Ain. What's your budget?"

"...Pardon?"