The Supreme God of Wealth

Chapter 3

​Adam cleared his throat. That trillion-dollar  felt like a fever dream buzzing in his veins. Still, questions gnawed at him. He hurried back into the restroom stall to find some privacy.

"Won't you want me to return the money or pay you back? Are there disadvantages to spending it? Do I need to stay in this restroom to contact you?" He fired them off, his voice echoing a bit too loud off the tiled walls.

The response came right away.

[You are bound by the Supreme God of Wealth System; there's no need to physically move to connect or ask questions.]

[The Supreme God of Wealth System offers significant benefits to the Host. There will be no repayment of rewards or negative consequences for spending your rewards.]

A rectangular box popped into his vision, letters floating like they were etched in the air.

[Level: 1]

[Completed quests: 0]

[Strength: 0]

[Special abilities: 0]

[Physique: Poor]

[Societal status: Poor]

[Wealth points: 5]

[You successfully saved Mrs. Carter, which rewards you with 5 Wealth points.]

[With each point you earn, you can boost your strength and physique and acquire special abilities.]

[Note: The higher the level you reach, the greater the rewards you receive. Increasing your societal status (spending lavishly and gaining popularity) will reward you with more wealth points.]

[High societal status = More wealth points = Greater strength and abilities = Easier completion of quests = Leveling up = Rewards/Money]

​[Rule: Every quest carries a strict deadline. Failure to complete a task results in a Level 1 reset with increased difficulty. Total negligence results in immediate elimination.]

​"Elimination?" Adam’s voice cracked. He looked down at his fingers. "I'm doing what you want, aren't I? Why kill me for missing a deadline? That seems... overkill."

​He swallowed hard. A power that could dump a trillion dollars into a bank account and track his every breath could likely erase him from existence without a second thought.

​[Host’s Recorded Death: February 14, 2024 — 6:30 PM]

​[The Supreme God of Wealth System provided a resurrection. The elimination clause is a standard fail-safe to prune stagnant or incompetent Hosts.]

​Adam’s heart skipped. "Resurrection? You mean I was actually dead?" He paused, the second word sinking in. "And what do you mean Hosts? There are others out there with this thing?"

The blue glow of the screen washed over the grimy restroom tiles, but the voice didn't bother answering. It just let the silence sit there. Then, the glowing letters blurred together, shifting and hardening into a new set of words.

​[Quest (1): Protect the destitute elder]

[Time remaining: 2:59:00]

​"Three hours? What’s with the rush?" Adam grumbled. He rubbed his stomach, feeling the uneven roll of fat beneath his shirt. The fabric was thin, gray with age, and stretched so tight over his midsection that the seams looked ready to snap. "I haven’t eaten, and I look like a wreck. Can't I at least change?"

​The blue text didn't flicker. It just sat there.

​[Accept Quest (1): Yes / No]

[Refusal results in immediate termination.]

​"Yes! Fine, I accept!" Adam barked. He wasn't about to gamble with his life over a sandwich.

He leaned over the sink, looking into the spotted restroom mirror. His face was puffy, his features slightly lopsided, and his hair was a greasy mess. But he had a trillion dollars. A slow grin spread across his face.

​"You’ll regret walking away, Olivia," he whispered. "Adam Carter isn't that loser anymore."

​He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and focused on the flickering prompt.

​[Quest (1): Accepted]

[Target: Protect the destitute elder]

[Location: Elmore Hotel]

***

Adam stepped out of the ward after checking on his mother. The treatment was already underway, and for the first time in years, the crushing feeling in his chest had eased. He didn't linger; the clock was ticking.

​He reached the Elmore Hotel twenty minutes later. It was a gleaming pillar of glass and gold that screamed wealth. When Adam pushed through the heavy revolving doors, the receptionist at the front desk stiffened. Her eyes raked over his thin, gray shirt, which was stretched so tight over his stomach that the buttons looked like they might fly off.

​He caught her stare and felt a flush of heat creep up his neck. He knew how he looked; unkempt, his hair a greasy mess, and his face puffy. In a lobby filled with people in tailored silk and Italian leather, he looked like a stain on the marble floor.

​The receptionist, a woman named Elizabeth, didn't hide her disgust. She watched him gawk at the crystal chandeliers and the polished floors that reflected the light like mirrors. To her, he wasn't just poor; he looked like a predator casing the joint, his eyes darting around with a nervous energy she didn't trust. She’d been docked pay before when lowlifes slipped past her watch. It wouldn't happen again.

​She marched toward him, her heels snapping against the floor like gunfire. "Sir, you can't just loiter here. Sit in the back of the lobby if you're waiting for someone, or tell me your business before I call security."

​Adam blinked, caught off guard by the venom in her voice. He glanced around. Should he tell her he was looking for a destitute elder? That would get him kicked out for sure. His stomach let out a long, hollow growl, making the choice for him.

​"I need a room and some food," he said, trying to flatten his voice.

​Elizabeth crossed her arms. "We have rooms. Whether you can pay for them is another story. Follow me to the desk or leave."

​They walked toward the desk while a younger receptionist with perfectly curled hair leaned over the counter and hissed, "What are you doing, Elizabeth? That fat slob looks like he crawled out of a gutter. He’s probably here to beg. You’re wasting time while real guests are waiting to tip."

​Elizabeth hesitated, glancing back at Adam’s lopsided features and sweating brow, but she stayed the course and waved him over anyway.

​Adam shuffled to the desk, feeling the judgmental gaze of every eye in the lobby. Elizabeth tapped at her computer, her voice dripping with doubt as she rattled off the prices.

​"We have deluxe rooms, basic. Executive suites if you want space. Then there is the VIP suite on the top floor: private balcony, personal concierge. But that’s for members only. It starts at $100,000 a night. Do you even have a card, or are you just wasting my air?"

​The system’s blue text flickered into his field of vision.

​[Time remaining: 00:50:00]

​"Crap," Adam muttered. He ignored the woman and scanned the lobby. Near the far corner, a frail man with thinning gray hair and a threadbare jacket was hauling a heavy crate of cleaning supplies toward the elevator.

​That had to be the target. Adam watched the doors slide shut behind the old man.

​"Sir?" Elizabeth snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Are you listening?"

​Adam jerked back. "Where does that elevator go?"

​She sighed, looking at him like he was the dumbest person she'd ever met. "To the top-floor VIP wing. The priciest rooms we have."

​"I'll take that one," Adam said, cutting her off.