Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player



Allan Peters had arranged for all transportation, and after learning of Kieran's value within Zenith Online, he upgraded all of it expeditiously. This was no longer a simple player with potential prospects; this was the owner of the first Guild, Union, and player-owned business within Zenith Online.

If he fumbled such a valuable partner, forget earning promotions in the future, there was a high chance he'd be dropped from the corporation altogether.

"Oh boy, I hope he's satisfied with all my arrangements. Dear presence up above, please let him be satisfied! My future rides upon this," Allan muttered and pleaded.

The stress and anxiety frayed his nerves so badly that he knelt and clasped his hands, pleading to the sky above. If anyone were around to witness the scene or if there were surveillance devices in his separate office, this office floor would undoubtedly draw amusement from his actions.

A shred of reason returned to his mind a moment later, prompting Allan to lift his head, clear his throat and regain his composure. All the while, he fixed his ruffled suit, ironing out the kinks with his hand.

"Ahem. Boy was that unsightly," Allan muttered, eyes darting around cautiously to ensure there were no onlookers. "But seriously… how did he manage all of this? I thought it was just childish overconfidence at first. But the boy is pulling miracles out of his ass. Wait… could this boy be the offspring of real magicians?!"

Before he gave Kieran his recent offer, Allan had to present the proposal to his higher-ups and structure it so that Kieran sounded more appetizing than even Allan believed him to be.

In doing so, Allan felt he was placing himself in a guillotine in preparation for a grisly career suicide.

Usually, sponsoring a prospect with his words wouldn't be so bad. Alas, this wasn't a normal situation.

Allan knew the enormous names that Kieran was generating enmity with.

The Gamer Republic almost certainly wouldn't intervene in a clash of that level. The level of wealth they commanded and their generous contributions to the platform was not a source of income the corporation wished to part ways with.

Somehow, Allan found himself nervously chewing his nail again.

"Lord, what am I doing? I'm basically risking it all. What if they hire those hitmen—Devil's Advocates—to try and kill me? I'm the only one pushing for this deal so heavily! No, no, no, no. I'm overreacting. Deals conducted under the aegis of the Gamer Republic are protected by confidentiality."

Though Allan told himself this, his grimace deepened and tears pooled in his eyes. He knew how wrong his idyllic thoughts were. Anyone in this corporation could be corrupted and bought for the right price.

As a matter of fact, Allan had heard rumors bruited throughout the corporation that some unnamed high-level personnel was a sellout. Though they were undoubtedly a legal liability to the company, no one filed any motions to have them removed.

Supposedly, the team of lawyers behind that particular individual was frightening. Building a case of them was all but impossible, and the type of lawyers on retainer was the ones that teetered on the edge of immorality. 

There was little they would not do to win a case with 100% certainty.

In his rut, Allan felt a vibration on his wrist. Almost immediately, he perked up, completely forgetting about the gloom and despair riddling his mind. 

He had been awaiting further notification all day. He was first alerted when Kieran and his entourage reached the airport and boarded their flight. Now, he was being notified that they had landed safely and were en route to their hotel.

The lump in his chest passed and Allan released a sigh that seemed to make his body visibly deflate. "My poor heart can't take this. Am I having palpitations?"

Allan revisited the upcoming official interview with the threat of a heart attack still assailing his mind. Some interviewers got too imaginative and crafty with their questions, stepping over boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. 

To avoid any terrible developments, Allan imposed strict bottom lines. A precaution to thwart anyone from overstepping their position.

At least, that's what he hoped. 

Allan didn't know if his image was intimidating or stern enough to control the situation without mishap.

After all, he had witnessed Kieran's carnage firsthand. Yes, it was a game, but to some, it wasn't. 

The reports of broken minds or damaged body bodies from severe mental trauma were all too real to the point it partially neutralized the argument of it being "just a game."

"There's no way this young man would go on a rampage, right? Has he been media trained? Can he even handle the pressure?!"

Once again, Allan found himself hyperventilating, screaming his worries out in this spacious box known as his office. Some questions that should have dawned upon him earlier only did so now. 

Generally, the Gamer Republic preferred to have raw and unscripted debuts, giving the public a taste of the player's true self.

But… is that something Allan wanted in this case. In his opinion, Kieran was the epitome of destructive. If he was challenged or belittled… 

Allan's eyes widened in abject horror at the realization.

"Nooooooo!"

….

Kieran opened his eyes and touched the back of his neck, feeling an odd sensation. It wasn't something he could put in words but he guessed it was something like a warning, premonition, or response to something supernatural.

It would probably never occur to him that this slight itch and indescribable twitch resulted from Allan's unfathomable stress.  I think you should take a look at ραΠdαsnovel.cοm

A kind of bizarre interaction that delved beyond logical explanations.

"Something the matter?" Alice asked, noticing Kieran's strange behavior. 

Throughout the entire trip, van, plane, and now another similar van except more luxurious with its opulent attempts to promote comfort, Kieran seemed present but absent.

His breathing differed subtly from being asleep and following a muted rhythm but his body was as motionless as a dead rock, like he was in a truly deep sleep. 

Maybe even a comatose state. 

No one was worried for him, though, but Alice did find it all very curious.

"Not particularly," Kieran answered, turning his attention to the large skyscraper edifices in the distance. Minence City's skyscrapers were double the dimensions of those found in Kieran's previous city. 

It was indeed a center of great wealth, a gathering of monstrous corporations.

With his face plastered against the window, Bastion turned upside down and goggled at the buildings while craning his neck. "It's so big!"

Some of the others seemed awestruck as well, like Cygnus and Sithik. 

However, four people seemed uninterested in their surroundings—Kieran, Dr. Riley, Altair, and Alice. Having grown up here, this was an everyday sight to Alice. Before being let go from her previous employment, Dr. Riley worked in this city. 

Meanwhile, Altair clenched his jaw, practicing to condense and wield his unwieldy murderous aura. It was so mentally taxing he paled and panted quite frequently.

"You opened your eyes that had been closed so abruptly that I thought something was wrong," Alice remarked. She sat back and folded her leg while studying Kieran.

He stared at her with a faint smile, noticing the emotion circulating in her gaze. "We're safe. I don't sense anyone targeting us."

"Okay," Alice gave a faint nod. 

Sometime later, the van arrived at a grand hotel. Its lavish structure exuded an atmosphere for the affluent, a constant stream of high-end vehicles entering and leaving the circle driveway.

ραndαsΝοvεl ƈοm Attendants exited the building, grabbing all their luggage as a doorman greeted them. Slightly on the older side, it was a man of an average build, with a gentle smile and streaks of gray visible under his bellman hat. 

It was no surprise that there were many people dressed in the same attire present.

In this day and age, there was no need to check-in. The crew meant to lead Kieran and his entourage was given all the pertinent details.

Shuffling his feet behind the rest, Bastion nudged Nemean and murmured. "It's all so prim and proper. You think we'll be fined if we break stuff?"

"Who is, and what do you mean we? I'm not paying a cent out of my pocket!" Nemean exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"Esteemed sirs, if you're in a mood to be destructive and stretch your body. You can do so in the martial center. I'm sure you will find a melange of agreeable staff, equipment, and peers present," the bellman guided sounded at the front.

Nemean and Bastion blinked wordlessly before their eyes darted to meet each other's gaze.

A single thought sprang into their mind: that's not the hearing of an ordinary old man. After all, there was conversation occurring all around. It should have been quite hard to distinguish them whispering to each other so far behind.

Meanwhile, Kieran narrowed his gaze a bit. 'With senses that acute… he must be in the Threshold.'

Of course, this wasn't an unusual situation. 

Kieran understood that to get even the simplest job here, one had to be of immense status. It was likely that this old man had access to X-hancers. It might not be the best but it certainly wasn't the worst.

By the time they reached their suite, the need-to-know of the hotel was explained in easily digestible detail. 

As it turned out, this hotel was sponsored by many big powerhouse industries. 

It was a cesspool of potential connections, an ideal location for networking. Granted… this was under the assumption that you were agreeable. And in this space, agreeable usually meant amenable and malleable—easily swayed and manipulated.

The road to the top of any field was never direct or clean. A crooked slope with blotches of muddy water to help you slip and stumble.

That is precisely why staying in Minence City was so dangerous.

Still, Kieran grinned. A dark and perhaps ominous one.

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