Leveling Up in Reality... by Slaughtering Chickens!?

The July heat was brutal, turning the city into a suffocating, steam-choked sauna. Gray, bruised clouds hung low in the sky, trapping the sweltering air but refusing to offer even a drop of rain.

Glen Johnson hauled himself up seven flights of stairs, his lungs burning. He pushed through a battered door into the Godslayer Gaming Studio—a cramped, seventy-square-meter room choked with stale smoke, the hum of overworked hard drives, and eight guys grinding away at monitors. They were professional shut-ins, surviving by farming virtual gear and power-leveling client accounts in a never-ending cycle.

Fresh out of college, Glen had hit a wall in the job market. With his bank account bleeding down to triple digits, he was desperate. If he didn't secure cash soon, he’d be out on the street by next month. He had taken refuge here just to survive.

He dropped the stack of takeout boxes onto the cluttered desks. Before he could even wipe the sweat from his eyes, the studio boss, Ryan Sink, shouted without looking away from his screen.

"Glen! What took you so damn long to grab a few boxes of food?"

"Bike chain snapped," Glen lied smoothly.

The truth was messier. On his way back, he’d impulsively tackled a pickpocket at the morning market. It was a mistake. He’d instantly kicked a hornet’s nest, drawing the attention of a vicious local theft ring. Seven thugs had chased him down. Glen had used his rusted bike as a battering ram to knock two of them into the pavement before sprinting for his life, taking a massive detour just to lose his pursuers. If he told Ryan the truth, the notoriously cowardly boss would fire him instantly for bringing heat near the studio.

"Whatever, get to your station," Ryan snapped, his voice tight with adrenaline. "The Astral Dragon just spawned in the Starfall Cavern Dungeon! Log into all your alt accounts, now. The drop rates on this boss scale with player count. We need every body we can throw at it!"

Starfall Cavern was the newest, most lucrative Dungeon in the smash-hit VR game, Realm Conquest. Just yesterday, rumors exploded that a top-tier Berserker Ring looted from the cavern had been auctioned off for a staggering eighteen thousand real-world dollars. For a studio built on digital sweat equity, it was an irresistible goldmine.

Glen slid into his chair, his hands flying across the keyboard. He quickly loaded his automated farming accounts directly into the Dungeon. On his monitor, a chaotic sea of players was swarming a towering, grotesque monster—a beast with the heavily armored head of a dragon and the muscular, unstoppable body of a bull.

The Astral Dragon’s health bar was already blinking in the red.

Glen went full throttle, unloading every ultimate ability and high-damage skill his accounts possessed in a synchronized strike.

Boom.

The timing was flawless. His barrage acted as the final nail in the coffin. The massive beast let out a digitized roar, its colossal frame collapsing before erupting into a blinding, multi-colored fountain of loot.

"Hell yes!" Ryan screamed, practically leaping out of his chair. He pointed at his screen, his eyes wide. "Three pieces of Purple-Gold Mythic Gear! We hit the jackpot!"

Normally, a raid would be lucky to see a single piece of Purple-Gold Mythic Gear. Three was a miracle. But then, Ryan squinted. "Wait... what was that rainbow flash? Who grabbed that?"

"I've got it," Glen called out, checking his inventory logs. "My account was on auto-loot. But... it’s just an Upgrade Chest."

"An Upgrade Chest? Are you kidding me?" Ryan shoved his way behind Glen’s chair. "Upgrade Chests drop with blue text. Since when do they have a rainbow rarity tier?"

Ryan stared at the screen, expecting to see a god-tier weapon. Instead, he saw the familiar, blocky icon of a basic crafting tool. His manic excitement flatlined into deep disgust. Upgrade Chests were utility items, used entirely for Material Synthesis, Gear Fusion, and Star Enhancement. They dropped off common mobs and had absolutely zero market value.

"A trash-tier Upgrade Chest with a rainbow visual effect?" Ryan cursed, shaking his head. "The developers for this Dungeon are losing their damn minds. Fine, whatever. Keep the stupid thing."

Ryan walked off, muttering about wasted adrenaline. Glen just shook his head and clicked on the item. His old chest was almost broken anyway. But as he inspected the rainbow tool's properties, a cold spike of confusion hit him.

Uses Remaining: 0/10.

Why did it have a hard cap of ten uses? Before he could process the anomaly, a stark system prompt slashed across the center of his monitor.

This item requires soul-binding prior to use. Do you wish to proceed? [Confirm] / [Cancel]

"Since when do crafting tools need to be bound?" Glen muttered. Frowning, he rested his hand on the mouse, hovering the cursor over the [Confirm] button.

CRASH.

The heavy, half-closed studio door was violently kicked off its hinges.

A group of bloodthirsty men stormed into the cramped room, their faces twisted in rage, hands gripping solid wooden bats and glinting daggers. Glen whipped around, the blood instantly draining from his face.

It was the theft ring. They had tracked him all the way back.

Before Glen could even attempt to stand, the lead thug—a hulking brute with twin dragons tattooed down his thick arms—lunged forward. He hoisted a solid oak bat high into the air and brought it crashing down mercilessly toward Glen's skull.

Thwack!

The brutal impact sent Glen violently backward. His head smashed into his desk, instantly shattering his cheap mechanical keyboard into dozens of jagged plastic fragments. Crimson blood pooled rapidly across the desk, soaking into the broken keys.

As his vision went black and his consciousness spiraled into the void, Glen’s right hand violently spasmed on the mouse.

Click.

In the absolute darkness of his fading mind, a synthetic, freezing voice echoed with crystal clarity.

"Host confirmed soul binding of Upgrade Chest. Data modeling sequence initiated..."