Similar patterns began to appear across the world, as if humanity had reached an unspoken agreement all at once.

  Those who pulled back their greedy hands survived.

  Those who clung to greed were left behind.

  At first, there had been resistance—angry voices shouting about rights, ownership, markets, and tradition. But those voices grew quieter with every passing hours. The fools who refused to wake from their obsession with wealth no longer had the numbers to obstruct progress. They were drowned out by reality itself.

  And if history demanded a scapegoat later, well… there would be no shortage of names to choose from.

  Not even a full day passed before the announcement came.

  A sudden press conference was called by the European Union, one so urgent that every major news outlet dropped their current coverage to tune in. Screens across the continent—and far beyond—flickered to life, all displaying the same woman standing behind a podium.

  Nadia Bergman, Speaker of the European Parliament.

  She stood tall, her blonde hair pulled neatly behind her head, hands resting calmly on the sides of the podium. Her expression was composed, but anyone paying close attention could see the strain in her eyes.

  She already knew what this announcement would cost her.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” Nadia began, her voice steady and clear.

  “I have come before you today to make a statement we would rather not make. However, in order to follow the times we live in, we believe we no longer have a choice.”

  She paused briefly, allowing the tension to build.

  “Quite frankly, inflation of the euro has spiraled out of control. People have been purchasing points using money that does not exist.”

  A wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

  Nadia inhaled slowly.

  “As such, starting from five p.m. today, the euro will no longer be accepted as an official currency.”

  The silence that followed was sharp and brittle.

  Cameras zoomed in. Reporters froze mid-note.

  “We will, however, allow a conversion from euros to points,” she continued. “This conversion will be limited to one hundred thousand euros per individual.”

  She hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

  “That amount will grant 0.1 points.”

  The reaction was immediate.

  Gasps. Shouts. Protests.

  A full year’s salary is worth less than killing a single goblin.

  Nadia felt the weight of every gaze bore into her, but she didn’t look away. This decision wasn’t cruel. It was math. Humanity simply did not possess enough points to support a higher rate. Most engagements against goblins resulted in six to nine goblins killed per human lost. Raising the exchange rate any further would bankrupt entire governments overnight.

  They had chosen survival over popularity.

  “We believe this imbalance will stabilize over the coming year,” Nadia said carefully. “But that is a future concern. Right now, this is the only viable option.”

  She straightened slightly.

  “We also recognize that a copper coin representing zero point one points is impractical for everyday use. Therefore, we have reached an agreement with the System to introduce paper currency equivalent to zero point zero zero one points for daily transactions.”

  At the word System, the atmosphere shifted.

  Fear mingled with greed in the reporters’ eyes.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “And finally,” Nadia continued, allowing herself a faint smile, “the military is preparing for a push back into goblin territory. Additional manpower will be required. Registration will be available online.”

  That last statement ignited the room.

  She answered no questions.

  She stepped away from the podium, already bracing herself for the chaos to follow.

  And chaos came.

  People who had sold their points in the early days now screamed for them back, demanding compensation, refunds, justice—anything. Recruitment portals crashed as two billion slots filled within hours. Where the military once struggled to recruit, now doors couldn’t open fast enough.

  The best part?

  No salaries.

  They weren’t soldiers.

  They were point hunters.

  Walking through the streets of the megacity, one could feel the despair clinging to the air. Wails echoed through alleyways as those who chased quick profits realized what they had lost. Others clutched their remaining points tightly, eyes darting, hearts pounding.

  Not everyone had sold.

  Some had known better.

  Back at Sea Fortress Number Three, the Sonneberg family sat together in a quiet communal room.

  The mood was heavy.

  “Grandpa,” Arin finally said, breaking the silence. “What would be the best way to sell this information?”

  Karl raised an eyebrow. “Sell it?”

  “I don’t think the governments understand the full implications,” Arin continued. “Not really.”

  Teun leaned forward, worry etched deep into his face.

  “How long does the soul need to recover after death?” he asked quietly.

  The room went still.

  Arin answered without hesitation.

  “After your first death, you need at least one month of rest,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what you do—nothing speeds it up.”

  Several sharp breaths were drawn.

  “If you die again within that month, recovery jumps to six months. That can be shortened to three if you actively use your profession. Mana flowing through the weapon and along your soul helps repair the damage.”

  “And if you die again?” Karl asked.

  Arin’s expression darkened.

  “You risk hidden injuries. Permanent ones. They can halt progression entirely—or slow it massively.”

  Silence followed.

  Karl studied his grandson carefully.

  “Healing through your profession carries risk,” he said.

  Arin nodded.

  “In that case,” Karl said, pointing at the book in Arin’s hands, “we give it to Herman.”

  Arin blinked. “Just like that?”

  “In exchange for the cost it took to reclaim it from the shop,” Karl replied. “Nothing more.”

  The book had cost ten thousand points.

  An absurd amount—only possible because the entire family pooled their earnings, combined with how well they had fought against the goblins. It had nearly emptied their wallets.

  Now?

  They knew it had been worth it.

  “I agree with Dad,” Dennis added. “Right now, it’s better not to antagonize the governments. The currency is already collapsing.”

  “And the favors we gain from this will be priceless,” he continued.

  Karl stood.

  “Then we meet Herman.”

  As he headed for the door, one thought lingered in his mind.

  If Arin had discovered this knowledge on his own—

  Then the governments were dangerously unprepared.

  And humanity would pay the price.