MMORPG: Birth of the World's Luckiest Player

The weight of authority could crush a man, and the gap between levels was a wall no one could climb.

Marcus simmered with indignation, the feeling sitting bitter and heavy in his chest. If only his Shadow-Stained Gryphon King were stronger. If that majestic creature had already reached maturity, these eagles wouldn’t dare so much as chirp in his presence, let alone strut around with this kind of arrogance. They would have bowed their heads long ago, trembling under its shadow.

"I am a cloud..." he muttered under his breath.

Since brute force wasn’t an option, it was time to get creative. Marcus didn’t waste time dwelling on frustration. He pulled out the Pure Mist Cloud Cluster and began chanting the incantation, his voice low and steady. A soft shimmer rippled outward, and in the next instant, both he and his Violet Thunderwing Steed dissolved into a drifting mass of white vapor that floated back toward the Golden-Petal Snow Eagles.

The transformation was flawless. Anything below the Mythic tier simply couldn’t perceive the deception. After his time in the Phantom Peach Grove of the Vixen Clan, Marcus had learned just how absurdly useful these clusters were, and a quiet sense of satisfaction rose in him at the thought that he owned not one, but two.

Of course, there was a catch. Each cluster lasted only ten hours, and once its time ran out, it was gone forever. It stung a little to expend something so rare, but Marcus had never been the type to hoard resources out of fear. What was the point of holding onto a treasure if you never used it when it mattered? Dominion was a world overflowing with opportunity. If you wanted more, you went out and took it.

A faint, mischievous chuckle slipped from him. This was going to be fun.

Now a literal cloud, Marcus drifted effortlessly toward the five-hundred-meter mark of Five-Leaf Peak, slipping straight through the eagles’ defensive perimeter. He passed right by the very creatures that had been giving him trouble moments ago, carried along by the currents stirred by their massive wings.

With his Herb Spade ready and Advanced Gathering active, he set to work.

Clinging loosely to the cliff face in his mist form, he moved upward inch by inch, plucking every stalk of Five-Leaf Goldgrass he came across. It wasn’t careful harvesting. It was systematic eradication.

When he glanced back and saw nothing but bare rock where lush clusters had once grown, a deep, shameless satisfaction settled in his chest.

"Where Stonehaven walks," he whispered to himself, "not a single blade of grass remains."

—

Five-Leaf Goldgrass: An intermediate-grade herb with five identical golden leaves. It thrives only in direct sunlight and is prized for its blood-replenishing and tissue-regenerating properties. Though widely useful, it is notoriously difficult to harvest, as it grows along the sheer cliffs of Five-Leaf Peak, more than five hundred meters above the ground.

—

As Marcus climbed and the Goldgrass vanished, the Golden-Petal Snow Eagles became enraged.

Their sharp cries echoed across the mountains as agitation spread through the flock. The herb was their primary food source, and watching it disappear stalk by stalk drove them into a frenzy. They beat their wings violently, gusts of wind crashing against the strange white cloud invading their territory.

To them, it was a calamity. Wherever the cloud drifted, their food simply ceased to exist.

They understood enough to know something was wrong, that this unnatural thing was devouring their sustenance, but at Level 50, there was nothing they could do about it. You couldn’t claw a cloud. You couldn’t tear it apart. All they could do was circle helplessly, screeching in fury as their home was stripped bare before their eyes.

Meanwhile, Marcus was thoroughly enjoying himself.

He grew bolder with each passing minute, even humming a jaunty little tune he made up on the spot about being a cloud. Every now and then, he would drift close to a particularly frantic eagle and swirl in place, almost like a taunt.

’Stupid birds’, he thought, amused. ’You really thought you could stop me?’

Trying to fight him like this was pointless, like an ant attempting to shove a millstone or a slab of tofu trying to block a blade.

The eagles were nearly driven to despair. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the white cloud flickered and vanished.

The harvesting stopped.

A wave of relief swept through the flock. Their cries softened, turning almost jubilant as they circled the peak.

The heavens have intervened! The evil cloud was gone!

They wheeled through the sky in celebration, already imagining a return to peace.

Their relief lasted exactly ten minutes.

At the very spot where the cloud had disappeared, a brilliant light flared once more. When it faded, a sleek, elegant Violet Thunderwing Steed stood in the air, its presence striking against the high-altitude light. A magnificent golden saddle gleamed atop its back, radiant and imposing.

Seated upon it was a knight.

He towered in heavy plate armor, wolf-themed and predatory, every inch of him exuding authority. He looked like something forged for war itself, a figure that seemed entirely at home commanding the battlefield.

For a brief moment, the Golden-Petal Snow Eagles hesitated, stunned by the sudden transformation.

Unfortunately for Marcus, they were not impressed.

Humans simply didn’t register as anything special to them. No matter how imposing he appeared, he couldn’t compare to even an ordinary snow eagle of the opposite sex. Instinct took over quickly.

The flock flared their wings.

Attack.

The lead eagle shrieked, unleashing a storm of wind and feathers as the flock surged forward. And then, in a burst of blinding white light, the knight vanished.

The cloud returned.

The eagles nearly dropped out of the sky. Whether from shock, fury, or sheer disbelief, nearly half the flock forgot to flap for a split second, plunging downward before scrambling to recover. The thing hadn’t left. It had only... changed.

It was back, and it was still stealing their food. If birds could curse, the mountains would have shaken with it.

’You thief! You bandit! You wretched thing!’

Driven to desperation, the eagles rallied again. They surged upward, shrieking with rage, diving at the cloud with talons outstretched in a futile attempt to tear it apart.

But once again, they passed straight through. The cloud remained untouchable, drifting lazily as it continued its relentless harvest.

Marcus laughed quietly to himself. He was in a rhythm now, and there was no reason to stop.

Still, he couldn’t help a small note of regret creeping in.

He had always believed that with the Ring of Greed expanding his inventory fivefold, he would never run out of space. Today proved otherwise.

His Advanced Gathering skill worked without pause. There was no cooldown, and failures were rare. His Herb Spade moved with ruthless efficiency, cutting through cluster after cluster like a scythe through wheat.

And there was a lot to harvest.

Because the area was guarded by Level 50 eagles, few players had ever set foot here. The system had allowed the Goldgrass to grow wild and dense, untouched for who knew how long. It was a harvester’s dream.

After two hours of nonstop gathering, his inventory filled completely.

Even with its expanded capacity, two hundred slots were packed to the brim. Since Goldgrass stacked in bundles of fifty, he had already collected over ten thousand stalks.

"I really need a bigger bag," he muttered.

With no other choice, he activated Wanderlust, setting a teleport anchor at his current location. In a flash, he was back at his mansion in Dragon’s Peak Citadel.

He found Alana, handed over the massive haul of herbs, and had her begin brewing Super Health Potions while he cleared his inventory. Then, without wasting another moment, he used Wanderlust again and returned to the mountain.

To conserve time on the cluster’s duration, he had remained in human form while in the city. Now, back on Five-Leaf Peak, he recited the incantation once more, dissolving again into a soft, drifting cloud.

"I am a cloud..." he hummed, ignoring the eagles’ increasingly miserable cries as he resumed his work.

By his estimate, the peak held around sixty thousand stalks of Goldgrass. After nearly eight hours of harvesting, his first cluster was nearing its limit. He had already made four trips back to the city, delivering roughly forty thousand stalks.

This was his final sweep.

He was about to strip the mountain completely bare.

’I really am a menace,’ he thought, not without a trace of pride.

In Dominion, low-level herbs typically respawned within ten days. Intermediate ones like Goldgrass took longer, usually between ten and twenty. High-tier materials could take a month or more. Since this herb only grew here, demand would always remain high.

He wasn’t worried.

He could simply come back in a couple of weeks and do it all over again.

The eagles, however, had reached their limit.

One by one, they stopped attacking. The frantic dives ceased. Instead, the entire flock turned upward, their voices rising together in a single, unified cry that rolled across the mountain range like thunder.

Marcus stilled. ’Something’s coming.’

He didn’t stop harvesting, but a prickle of unease crept up his spine. His movements quickened as he cleared the last remaining clusters, his attention split between his work and the sky.

Then it came.

A piercing shriek tore through the air from the shadowed side of the peak, so sharp and powerful it felt as though it split the mountain itself.

Marcus froze. That was no ordinary eagle.

A moment later, it appeared.

A massive shape rounded the peak, enormous and radiant, its body wrapped in a shimmering golden aura. It was easily the size of five bulls combined, its wings casting a vast shadow over the cliffs.

Marcus let out a quiet breath.

"Now that... is a big bird."

Legend claimed that eagles were descendants of the Great-Winged Sky Leviathans, and looking at this creature, Marcus found himself believing it without question. It was majestic, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.

His heart pounded as he stared at it, and despite himself, a thought surfaced.

’If his Shadow-Stained Gryphon King grew to even half this size...’

He exhaled slowly, forcing the thought aside. Admiration wouldn’t keep him alive.

He had no idea how strong this thing was. If it had reached Mythic tier or beyond, there was a real chance it could see straight through his mist.

The golden eagle moved. It was fast. Faster than anything he had seen.

In the time it took Marcus to blink, the distance between them vanished, golden light blazing as the creature bore down on him.

Marcus tightened his grip on his spade, ready to trigger his teleport at the slightest sign of danger.

If those eyes locked onto him, he was gone.