3.

What every RPG player—no, every online gamer—craves is competition. The thrill of battling others. People who enjoy quiet, solo experiences play single-player games. The appeal of online gaming lies in its social nature, the desire to present a curated version of oneself to the world and to savor a victory that eludes them in reality.

So imagine a reality that is an online game. A world where you can't even play without a lucky roll of the dice, but once chosen, you can step onto a global stage and see your name broadcast before billions. How exhilarating must that be? Overnight, hundreds of millions of people would know your name, searching for who you are.

And the money?

If you captivated even a fraction of that audience, companies would be lining up, begging you to take their sponsorship money. Most top players don't clear dungeons to make a living; they do it because they need 'more' money, not because they lack it.

For that reason, players risk their lives for a spot on the world rankings. The most prestigious, of course, is the level ranking. Even after five years, it is in constant flux outside of the top ten. The competition is so fierce that even the top ten itself sees occasional shake-ups.

Still, breaking into the top 100 is an incredibly difficult feat, especially for latecomers. The established old guard grinds dungeons daily to cement their positions, systematically acquiring experience far more safely and efficiently than anyone who started late.

Events, therefore, are a golden opportunity for the underdogs. An event like this, where they didn't have to compete with the top dogs? Players would sell their souls to participate. While the 1-star and 7-star groups hogged the spotlight, the competition in the 2-star to 6-star brackets was just as brutal.

The 2-star group featured the infamous Park Sijun. It might have looked like he casually sniped first place, but rumors claimed the SJ Group had poured 150 million into his victory. The 3-star through 6-star groups were even more of a bloodbath—ambiguous brackets where neither pure grinding nor pure skill was enough. The winners in those groups were all formidable, well-known players.

It was that kind of event. And Buja had taken first place.

▶ Current Ranking: 1st

▶ Event Score: 5,120 Points

With an overwhelming score, no less. Sergei Dicapro, who had been desperately pushing at the end to defend his title, stood no chance against Buja's final sprint, amplified by the fifth-week buff. Two Special dungeons a day—it was a feat no normal human could accomplish.

"Uh… this isn't going to turn into a real-life fight, right?" Buja asked nervously.

"It's not unheard of for accidents to happen because of events," Seora replied calmly.

A chill of fear ran down his spine, mingling with the pride of his victory. Would a millionaire who spent fortunes on an item simply accept defeat and applaud the winner? Seeing Buja snatch victory at the last second must have been infuriating for Sergei. Overnight, his prize had been downgraded from a Legendary item to a Special one.

If Buja were in Sergei's shoes, he'd be plotting.

"He's already spent hundreds of millions. What's a little more to make it a billion? If he put out a hit on me, some Level 50 or 60 psycho would probably come at me with bloodshot eyes, right?"

He offered a silent prayer that the man would just buy a Legendary item with that money instead.

"Don't worry too much," Seora reassured him. "If he were that kind of player, he would have tried to interfere during the event."

"True."

At her rational point, he lowered his praying hands. She was right. If you wanted to eliminate a competitor, it was far more efficient to do it during the event and claim the prize yourself.

"I guess it's true what they say about the rich being generous. Except for punks like Park Sijun, of course."

The results were in. He'd deal with Sijun's fallout later. For now, he held his breath and focused on the hologram shimmering before him.

[You have achieved 1st place in the "Event" rankings.]

[You have acquired the "Random Legendary Item Selection Box."]

[You have completed the achievement: "Event Participation! (N)."]

[You have completed the achievement: "I'm the MVP! (L)."]

[The "Event Point Shop" is now active.]

[You have acquired Event Points (500).]

The two achievements were irrelevant. All that mattered was the "Random Legendary Item Selection Box."

Opening it would grant him his second Legendary item.

"An accessory would be ideal," he sighed.

The Source of Evil had shattered his Special-grade armor, so a Legendary piece for defense wouldn't be unwelcome. Still, an accessory he could equip without swapping anything out was far more appealing. "Anything but a necklace."

He sent up a quick prayer, hoping he wouldn't get a second Legendary necklace when he could only benefit from one. After he lifted all his prayers, he checked the Event Point Shop. As expected, it was a feature exclusive to him. The points were distributed similarly to the event score: 500 for first place, 100 for second through fifth, and 25 for sixth through tenth.

"Let's see what they've got."

He decided to browse the shop before opening the box.

[Event Shop]

▶ Grade: Legendary

▶ Category: Event

▶ Level: 1

▷ You can use 2,000 gold to raise the level.

▷ You can use 1,000 gold to activate the Event Trait Slot (1).

There wasn't much available. The yet-to-be-activated items seemed to be of a similar nature.

"An Event Trait?"

It appeared he needed to spend a thousand gold to unlock an Event Trait Slot, then purchase a corresponding trait from the shop to equip it.

"Oho."

The urge to try it immediately was strong, but he held back.

"Not enough gold."

There was no sense torturing himself by looking at something he couldn't use. He closed the window, refusing to let it sour his good mood. Any trace of curiosity vanished before the Legendary Item Random Selection Box, which practically hummed with a silent plea to be opened.

"Hurry up and open it," Jeong Seora urged from beside him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He nodded and claimed his prize. A moderately sized box materialized before him. He let out a slow breath.

The moment was electric with excitement, but a wave of anxiety washed over him as well.

"This game is such a slave to RNG," he muttered. "All gacha and probability."

The thought brought to mind a certain gaming company from a few years back, infamous for its predatory monetization in PC games. He sighed.

But what could he do? This level of gacha was almost quaint by comparison. No matter the outcome, the item would be Legendary, and none of the possible categories—weapon, armor, or accessory—could be considered a failure. The only real measure of bad luck would be not getting the specific type of item he wanted, or perhaps a difference in its objective market value.

With that, Kim Buja reached out without hesitation. He grabbed the box, gripped the lid, and tore it open.

A brilliant light flared, coalescing into a single, distinct form.

* * *

Seven Legendary Item Random Selection Boxes had been released into the world. For the most part, the public wasn't overly concerned with the whereabouts of all of them.

—Just hope they open them soon.

—I'm most curious about the 7-star Legendary item Fly is gonna get.

—Wouldn't it be insane if he got a weapon?

—A weapon? You think? It's a toss-up between an accessory, armor, and a weapon. Even if he gets one, if it's not a staff, he'd be better off with armor or an accessory.

Everyone knew the owners weren't about to sell these boxes for cash. Of course, contrary to popular belief, not all seven were opened by their original recipients. The boxes from the 3-star and 5-star dungeons had been traded—one for assets valued at eight billion dollars, the other for an item of the same grade.

Still, the main event for the public was Fly. And Fly, ever the showman, decided to indulge the breathless anticipation of the masses.

—He's livestreaming the opening.

—Whoa. No way.

There was nothing particularly dramatic about the world's number-one ranker, a legendary class player, opening a box. He simply opened it as if it were a mundane package delivered to his door.

—Is he not even nervous?

—Guess that's what happens when you're decked out in Legendary gear. Still, it's a 7-star Legendary, and he's opening it like it's a regular package.

—That's the right way to do it, though. Getting all tense and dragging it out won't change what's inside.

It was random. Everyone knew that. They just lacked Fly's god-tier composure.

—If he gets a weapon he doesn't like, is he just gonna toss it in his storage without a second thought?

—It's a 7-star Legendary weapon, dude. He'd probably trade it for something comparable.

The box opened, and the light within began to take shape. Most people watched with a mix of anticipation and secretly hoping for a dud. The probability of getting something undesirable was, after all, quite high. Even so, the intrinsic value of a 7-star Legendary item was immutable. That's what most of them thought, right up until the light solidified.

—Is that... a staff?

A person destined to succeed will succeed. In that moment, Fly was crowned the undisputed biggest winner of the event.

* * *

The world envied his luck, but it wasn't a phenomenon exclusive to Fly. There were seven Legendary boxes, twenty-eight Special boxes, and thirty-five Unique boxes. The vast majority of players who opened them reported the same thing.

—I got a weapon that's perfect for my class!

—I got armor, and the stats are tailor-made for my class.

—Me too!

It wasn't universal, but the trend was undeniable. This pointed to one conclusion.

—Event-related boxes have a high probability of yielding items tailored to the opener's class.

That single revelation caused the value of all remaining unopened boxes to skyrocket. The community collectively offered its condolences.

—What about the guy who sold his Legendary box for 8 billion? Think he can get a refund?

—No chance. I heard someone else offered 20 billion for it. The guy who bought it for 8 billion made out like a bandit.

Eight billion dollars. It was an unimaginable sum. It had sold for a relative pittance precisely because of the uncertainty involved. With roughly seventy percent of players receiving something related to their class, even if not their ideal item, all eyes naturally turned to those who had yet to reveal their prizes.

—What about Kim Buja?

—Did he get something good?

The answer came, steeped in anticipation, in the form of a video.

* * *

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