Lin Fan stared at the dwindling ETH balance. The blue holographic interface flickered, a persistent ghost in his peripheral vision. It had been three days since he’d last “patched” reality, and the gas fees were eating away at his reserves.
[SYSTEM] Low Gas Warning. Balance: 0.00712 ETH. Estimated operational lifespan: 48 hours.
“Operational lifespan,” Lin Fan muttered. The phrase made it sound like he was a machine. Maybe he was becoming one. Ever since the System had bootstrapped itself into his consciousness, his perception of the world had shifted. Streets were overlaid with data streams, people glowed with faint aura signatures indicating their “system load,” and every digital transaction whispered its secrets to him.
But the System wasn’t free. It ran on Ethereum, of all things. A god-tier reality manipulation engine, dependent on a blockchain notorious for volatility and exorbitant fees. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
He needed more ETH. Fast.
The previous encounters—the Rich Second Generation Zhao with his unlimited money glitch, the eerie Ghost Contract that had bled 0.00042 ETH—had taught him two things. First, other system holders existed, each with their own unique abilities and vulnerabilities. Second, their systems were often poorly coded, riddled with exploits a savvy hunter could leverage.
Leverage. That was the key. He wasn’t just a user; he was the System Hunter. His interface displayed vulnerabilities like glowing cracks in a dam wall. All he needed was to find the right pressure point.
A new notification blinked into existence.
[SYSTEM] Darknet Pulse Detected. Anomaly: “Vulnerability Market” listing. Query?
Lin Fan’s heart rate spiked. A market? For system vulnerabilities? That meant there were others like him—or at least, others who knew about the meta-layer of reality where these systems operated. He focused on the prompt, mentally selecting “Access.”
The world around him dissolved into a torrent of encrypted data. His vision filled with a terminal-like interface, lines of code scrolling at blinding speed. Then, a marketplace UI materialized—a minimalist, dark-themed forum with listings that made his head spin.
Listing #4473: Infinite Stamina System — Re-entrancy Flaw. Starting Bid: 0.5 ETH.
Listing #4474: Charisma Aura — Integer Overflow in Persuasion Module. Starting Bid: 0.3 ETH.
Listing #4475: Luck Manipulator — Race Condition in Probability Engine. Starting Bid: 0.8 ETH.
Each listing included a snippet of the target system’s source code, a description of the vulnerability, and a proof-of-concept exploit. This was a black-market bazaar for hacking the very fabric of reality’s cheat codes.
Lin Fan’s mouth went dry. He had 0.00712 ETH. He couldn’t afford even the cheapest listing. But maybe he didn’t need to buy—he could simply… observe. The code snippets were right there. As a System Hunter, his own interface could analyze any system code for vulnerabilities. If he could see the exploit, he could replicate it, perhaps even improve upon it.
He focused on Listing #4473. The code expanded, revealing a contract written in a language that looked like Solidity but shimmered with an otherworldly syntax. His System began its analysis.
[ANALYSIS] Target: Infinite Stamina System (Contract: 0x...StaminaCore).
[VULNERABILITY] Re-entrancy in withdrawStamina() function. Attack vector: recursive calls drain stamina pool.
[EXPLOIT] Provide malicious fallback function that calls withdrawStamina() before state update.
[ESTIMATED YIELD] 10,000 stamina points (convertible to 0.1 ETH via shadow exchange).
Convertible to ETH. That was the missing link. These systems didn’t just grant powers; they generated tangible, blockchain-trackable resources. Stamina points, luck tokens, charisma credits—all could be traded on shadow exchanges for cryptocurrency. The entire ecosystem was a parasitic layer atop the global financial network.
Lin Fan’s mind raced. If he could execute this exploit, he could drain the target’s stamina pool, convert the points to ETH, and recharge his own system. But there were risks. The marketplace was undoubtedly monitored. The moment he launched an attack, he’d paint a target on his back.
A new private message pinged.
User: ShadowBroker — “I see you eyeing Listing #4473. Low on gas?”
Lin Fan froze. How did they know? His connection was supposed to be anonymous, routed through multiple layers of encryption. Unless… the marketplace itself was a honeypot.
He decided to play along. “Just browsing. The prices are steep.”
ShadowBroker: “For a buyer, yes. But for a partner, they can be waived.”
“What kind of partnership?”
ShadowBroker: “The kind where you test exploits for us. We provide the targets, you execute the attacks, we split the yield 70-30.”
Lin Fan’s instincts screamed trap. But his ETH balance blinked red. 48 hours. He needed a stopgap.
“70-30 in whose favor?”
ShadowBroker: “Ours, of course. But we throw in protection. The market has… predators.”
Predators. The word sent a chill down his spine. He thought of the Ghost Contract, the way it had seemed almost sentient, hungry for his ETH. Were there entities that fed on system holders?
“Let me think about it,” he sent, and severed the connection.
The marketplace interface faded, leaving him back in his cramped apartment. The blue system overlay returned, now with a new alert.
[SYSTEM] Proximity Alert: High system load detected within 500 meters. Signature: “Infinite Stamina System.”
Coincidence? Or had the marketplace already tagged him? The target from Listing #4473 was nearby. This felt like a test—or a setup.
Lin Fan grabbed his jacket and headed out. The city at night was a neon-drenched labyrinth, but his system overlay painted it in new colors. He followed the signal, a pulsing red waypoint only he could see. It led him to a sleek, glass-fronted gym that never closed. Inside, a man was on a treadmill, running at a pace that defied human endurance. His aura glowed a vibrant, unnatural green.
[SCAN] Subject: “Mikhail Volkov.” System: Infinite Stamina v2.1. Status: Active. Vulnerability: Re-entrancy (confirmed).
Lin Fan positioned himself across the street, in the shadows of an alley. He could execute the exploit from here. His interface provided a command line, a direct injection point into the target’s system. All he had to do was send the malicious payload.
But something felt off. The gym was empty except for Mikhail. No staff, no other patrons. The cameras were dark. It was too perfect.
He zoomed in with his system-enhanced vision. Mikhail’s face wasn’t strained; it was blank, almost robotic. And around the gym’s perimeter, faint energy signatures flickered—tripwires.
Ambush.
Lin Fan’s System flashed a warning.
[ALERT] Decoy detected. Target is a honeypot. Withdraw recommended.
Too late. The energy signatures flared, and a dome of shimmering light enveloped the entire block. His connection to the outside world severed. No internet, no blockchain access. His ETH balance froze.
From the gym’s entrance, a figure emerged. Not Mikhail, but a woman in a tailored suit, her aura a calm, steady blue. She held a tablet that glowed with the same interface as his own.
“Lin Fan,” she said, her voice carrying across the silent street. “We’ve been expecting you.”
He remained still, his mind racing through escape options. His system was offline; he couldn’t even patch reality.
“Who are you?” he called back.
“We are the Auditors,” she said, stepping closer. “We maintain the balance. System holders like you… you’re anomalies. Glitches in the simulation. Most are benign, but some become parasitic. We prune the parasites.”
“And which am I?”
“That’s what we’re here to determine.” She gestured with the tablet. “You’ve been offered a partnership with the ShadowBroker. That’s a test. Greedy hunters take the bait and become… examples.”
Lin Fan’s blood ran cold. “And if I refused?”
“Then you pass the first trial.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “But there are more trials to come. The Vulnerability Market is just the entrance exam. The real hunt is about to begin.”
The dome dissipated. His system reconnected, flooding with notifications. One stood out.
[SYSTEM] Incoming Transfer: 0.5 ETH. Sender: Auditor Network. Memo: “For your discretion.”
Lin Fan looked up, but the woman was gone. The gym was now brightly lit, full of people, as if nothing had happened. Mikhail was still on the treadmill, but now he looked exhausted, human.
His balance now read 0.50712 ETH. Operational lifespan: indefinite, for now.
But the message was clear. He was being watched. And the hunt had just escalated from street-level skirmishes to a shadow war with rules he didn’t yet understand.
He walked away, the weight of the unknown heavy on his shoulders. The Vulnerability Market was just the surface. Beneath it lay layers of conspiracy, power struggles, and entities that could cut off his connection to reality itself.
He needed to learn more. He needed allies. And he needed to upgrade his system before the next Auditor came knocking.
Because next time, they might not be so generous.
Word Count: 1,358