Chương 101: Visiting the Mind Mage

Meno sat on the train toward his sister's house with the jewelry box in his pocket and his phone in his hand. He should have been thinking about the shield for Oxy, the class evolution disaster, or the panel later that night. Instead, the X7 kept bothering him. His old capsule had cost twenty thousand credits, which had once felt like a good purchase, but after the Soma-XUltra, playing through it felt like reaching Veyrath through wet cardboard.

A better capsule meant lower latency, smoother feedback, and maybe fewer nosebleeds when his brain tried to outrun the hardware. That was the real issue. The X7 had started lagging behind him during full-focus moments. If he had to dodge level one hundred champions, even a small performance increase could mean the difference between success and being forcefully logged out because his apartment coffin stuttered. Meno called Sophie.

"Feltforge executive office," Sophie said.

"Hi. It's Meno." A pause.

"Are you injured, detained, broadcasting currently, or inside a simulation?"

"No. I need capsule info."

"Have you tried calling Soma instead? This is not an information line." Meno looked out the train window as the coast slid by.

"I don't know. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I check my phone, there is going to be a number or an app I did not save or install myself, and it would ring you anyway. Probably on your personal phone, not this company line."

"And why would that be the case?" Sophie asked.

"Because of your boss."

"Mr. Varsh, please do not make prank calls again, or I will have to block your number in our system." The call ended, leaving Meno staring at the phone. He had expected Morlando's assistant to know at least the basics of the arrangement, maybe disguised as Veyrath testing or another corporate nonsense layer. Sophie sounded totally clueless. Either Morlando compartmentalized everything tightly, or the secret line was somewhere else. Meno started digging through his phone.

Maybe Morlando preferred one-sided contact, reaching out only when Meno was useful and offering nothing outside that, but Meno had a hard time believing it. If Morlando was serious about the test pilot arrangement, he could not easily replace Meno, and the invisible stamp in Meno's arm only alerted them after something had already gone wrong. Someone like Morlando would not leave the emergency line to vibes, though the idea that he had simply forgotten to tell Meno in his excitement felt both plausible and insane.

When no new numbers appeared, Meno checked his apps instead and found one icon near the bottom, bland and forgettable. AppMend DeviceCare He definitely had not installed it. The icon looked exactly like the usual scam app that promised to clean your phone while selling your data to advertisers. Meno opened it and found a big bright clean button, several side menus, fake-looking optimization scores, and enough useless functions to make the disguise convincing. Buried in the support tab was a phone number.

He tapped it, and the line rang twice.

"Is this an emergency?" a gruff older voice asked.

"Your vitals are in the expected range." Meno recognized the voice immediately. Grandpa from the lab.

"No," Meno said.

"I was just trying to clean my phone with this cool app, but the UI is very confusing. Can you explain how it works?" The call ended. Meno dialed again.

"What do you want?" Grandpa snapped.

"I am busy. Setting everything up in Vernova is not simple. This city lives a decade in the past." Meno smiled faintly.

"What kind of idiot bans VTOLs?" Grandpa said.

"Like rolling around on four wheels in the dirt is sacred human expression."

"Do you watch my stream?" Meno asked.

"No. I am busy. I have an AI agent analyzing it, and we keep having to reset it because your chat infects its personality."

"Yeah," Meno said.

"So the problem is the gap between your fancy cybercoffin and my X7 is too big. I just got a nosebleed from it, and that never happened before."

"There are a million reasons your nose could bleed. That does not automatically mean emergency." Grandpa sighed.

"But you are probably right. The X7 is basically a cheap horse carriage, so buy something better."

"Would not call twenty thousand cheap, but yeah. What should I buy?" Grandpa made a sound like Meno had asked what shoes were.

"The best consumer capsule is Soma XApex for two million credits. That is where the consumer line ends. XVector is designed for simulation training at five million, and XArray is mainly for multi-user syncing at ten million. Both are enterprise only."

"Which one should I get?"

"XPro for five hundred thousand. That should suffice. XApex is only about eleven percent better, and at that level it is hardly noticeable, since the XPro is already faster than ninety-nine point nine percent of humans. XApex mainly exists so wealthy people have something to pay four times the price for." Meno leaned back.

"What makes XVector special?"

"Mainly the software package. It lets you set up custom simulations to practice almost anything. The hardware itself is not better than XApex."

"And XArray?"

"Before you ask, XArray is not faster either. Its purpose is letting multiple users move in sync and feel what others are doing."

"That seems broken for Veyrath," Meno said.

"If you hook twenty people up for a raid, that would probably be a huge boost."

"Maybe. Nobody tested it because that would cost two hundred million credits, and the gains might be small. Roles and classes are different, so the utility is questionable." Grandpa paused, then kept going like the explanation offended him.

"It is designed more for external precision robot control. Power plants, particle accelerators, delicate assemblies where multiple operators must coordinate without delay."

"That's it? There really isn't anything better than XApex?"

"Why? Is two million too cheap for you?" Grandpa asked.

"Of course there are custom capsules you cannot conveniently order. Anything else, or can I get back to work? If I make a mistake here, it might fry your brain, just so you know."

"Uhm. Yeah. That's all. Thanks." Grandpa hung up, leaving Meno sitting with the phone in his hand. Saving for XApex was probably the correct move, but it would take time if he did not want to go broke immediately after buying it, and it probably would not even fit in his small apartment. XPro was already expensive, but eleven percent was not as small as Grandpa made it sound when Meno had just watched milliseconds decide whether he got punched by a raid monk.

Raw performance mattered, and getting closer to the XUltra mattered more. Meno got off the train and walked to his sister's coastal house. It looked comfortable in a way his apartment never had, with clean windows, pale walls, and plants that looked alive on purpose. He knocked and shifted the jewelry box in his pocket. A few seconds later, Jonas opened the door wearing a shirt and cardigan.

"Meno?" Jonas asked.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Just came to talk and brought a gift for my sister." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"She won't be home for a few hours, and I am busy with a client right now. Come inside and wait. It will be half an hour."

"Sure." Meno stepped in and closed the door behind him. Jonas disappeared through a side door back to his office, leaving Meno alone in the quiet house. After about three seconds, the kitchen began calling to him. He opened his sister's fridge and found civilization. Actual containers. Labels. Fruit that had not surrendered. A pot of soup. Eggs. Yogurt. On the middle shelf sat a glass container of roasted chicken thighs beside rice, cut vegetables, and something green enough to count as medicine.

Meno helped himself to the chicken, hoping they would not be mad. He ate at the kitchen table, slow enough to pretend it was patience and not theft. The chicken tasted like someone had planned tomorrow before tomorrow arrived. After Jonas escorted his client out, he came to the table and sat across from Meno.

"I see you helped yourself to my lunch." Meno looked down at the container.

"Oh. Thought it was leftovers. Sorry. It was too hard to resist real food." Jonas folded his hands.

"So whatever you wanted to talk to me about, my advice is do not do it."

"What? You don't even know what it is."

"Clearly, you already decided you want to do it, but you know it is a bad idea. That is why you came here to get me to convince you otherwise." Meno frowned.

"I am just unsure."

"Is this about that Sorell girl?"

"No. That's over." Meno's face tightened.

"This is someone else, also a streamer. I found a really good item that suits her and is hard to get, but I am worried it will backfire if I just give it to her."

"My advice is simple," Jonas said.

"If she is higher status than you in Veyrath, give it to her. If she is below you, do not." Meno did not love that answer.

"Why?"

"People will attribute her successes to you, then blame her twice as much for failures. But you are going to give it to her anyway, so why are we talking about this really?" Meno leaned back.

"I don't know. Maybe doing something stupid knowingly is better than being impulsive."

"I am afraid it is the opposite. You need to learn self-control." Meno laughed once.

"I already have a Self-Control passive. The AI is about to delete it, though." Jonas stared at him.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Is this the real reason you came?"

"Possible," Meno said.

"No clue. I didn't really have anyone to talk to about it yet. Oxy was sleeping."

"I assume Oxy is the one you want to give the shield to." Jonas gestured for him to continue.

"Explain the situation in terms I can understand." So Meno did. He told Jonas about Naraltan, the class evolution, the disguised nerf, the options, and how it kept chewing at him because it felt like losing agency. He explained Chain Madness badly, then tried again. He explained how the new classes were strong in ways that did not feel like his build, and how refusing to pick might force the AI to act honestly. Jonas listened without interrupting.

"Okay. I understand now," Jonas said.

"But what happens if you stay level sixty, people pass you, and Naraltan still gives you nothing meaningful to do?" Meno's thumb pressed into the edge of the table.

"A failure like that would puncture the image people have of you," Jonas said.

"You turn from a mythical figure into a failed cheater who had his fifteen minutes of fame."

"Yeah. I considered that." Meno tapped one finger against the table.

"But I have always figured something out so far."

"Do not take previous successes as evidence of guaranteed future performance. That is how many people end up in my office." Jonas leaned forward.

"When you were level ten, fighting something twice your level meant a ten-level difference. Now you want to face something more than sixty levels above you. Since the power curve likely is not linear, that gap is far beyond six times as hard."

"If I get Chain high enough, difficulty doesn't really matter."

"Now you are talking in terms of another exploit," Jonas said. Meno opened his mouth, but the answer jammed somewhere between confidence and math.

"A few times is fine," Jonas continued.

"But if you keep overcoming impossible situations through bugs and unintended behavior, people will turn on you. Right now, you are probably at the sweet spot."

"The sweet spot?"

"People believe you are brilliant, reckless, and lucky in a way that makes good viewing. Keep pushing, and they may decide you are simply the best at cheating." Meno drank water, mostly to buy himself a second. Jonas watched him carefully.

"My advice is to avoid exploits for a while. People will still watch, but it will change. Focus on playing your class and overcoming things properly."

"I guess you are right," Meno said.

"If I can't kill anything in Naraltan, I am just griefing myself by staying sixty for no gain."

"Is there somewhere to get better items to compensate for the level difference?"

"Really not sure." Meno rubbed his jaw and thought through the gear map.

"Outside Naraltan, Vervenzal is the only source I know that drops Legendary III gear, and I already killed him this week. Since the raid got cleared, the rest of the bosses and trash were emptied too. I don't know what is above Legendary III."

"Mythic?"

"Mythic does not seem like a direct next quality bracket, since there can be only one of each mythic. There must be better items between sixty and one hundred, maybe Legendary IV and so on, or a different tier." Jonas nodded slowly.

"In my head, Legendary I is around sixty, II around seventy, and III around eighty because the source is a raid endboss. Vervenzal is supposed to be hard for a full twenty-player raid, and you only get three items per week."

"Violence is not always the solution," Jonas said. Meno let that sit on the table between them, where it looked ridiculous.

"You told me these champions were smart," Jonas said.

"Have you considered trading with them?"

"Why would they want my lower-level gear?"

"Maybe they do not know it is lower-level until they inspect it."

"They can inspect."

"Then maybe if you obtained an Essencefruit, they might trade."

"They would probably try to kill me for it. The zone is definitely set up so those drop on death, even though I haven't tested it." Jonas spread his hands.

"Maybe they would accept two lesser things for one better thing. Maybe not. You will not know unless you try. Or they might offer tasks to harass their enemies. A high-level task could have strong rewards."

"Uhh," Meno said.

"I am not doing quests." Jonas sighed.

"Then there is not much I can do for you." Meno accepted that as someone who hated quests.

"Maybe," Jonas said, "you could use the raid boss. Wait until champions engage it, then take a cheap shot at one when they are close to dying."

"I thought of that."

"I recommend against it. People would expect you to do it, but they would also resent you for it. Your problem is that there may be no way to protect both your image long term and your class." Meno focused on the empty chicken container, which suddenly seemed safer than Jonas.

"You have to sacrifice one," Jonas said.

"I don't really care about image."

"I know you think that." Meno frowned.

"I care about Veyrath. If I do another exploit this soon, it might undermine the game and my accomplishments along with it. That bothers me more than stream backlash." The front door opened, and Lysa entered dressed like a proper schoolteacher, hair tied back, bag on her shoulder, looking mildly exhausted. She stopped when she saw him at the table.

"Meno? What are you doing here?" Meno waited until she put her things down, then stood and hugged her.

"Hey. Brought you a gift."

"A gift?" Lysa looked immediately suspicious.

"You shouldn't have. I know your stream has blown up recently, but you still live in that shoebox apartment. You need to be smart about money."

"It's fine. I bought something for Mom too. Would have felt bad if I didn't get something for you." Jonas looked curious while Meno pulled the jewelry box from his pocket and handed it to Lysa. She took it like it might be stolen, then opened it. Her eyes went round, and the box nearly slipped from her hands.

"Meno!" Jonas stood and came closer as the white-gold necklace came into view, its large green stone framed by glittering diamonds. He stared with a sour expression, like Meno had just challenged his entire marriage.

"Have you lost all sense?" Lysa asked.

"This must have been crazy expensive. What did you send Mom?"

"Don't worry about it. I got a good deal and saved one thousand credits." Lysa stared harder.

"Mom got a silver flatware set," Meno said.

"I remembered her talking about how nice it would be to have one, but Dad thought they were overpriced nonsense." Lysa lifted the necklace, and Jonas took it from her hand like a man determined to join the event before it crushed him. He fastened it around her neck, and the emerald settled against her collarbone. Lysa touched the stone with her fingertips.

"Saved one thousand? How much was it?"

"It is a gift. Bit rude to ask."

"Meno." He sighed, because his sister could not accept a nice thing without an interrogation. To be fair, she did not know what sat in his account, or that he would make back the full cost tonight by appearing on The Meta Desk panel.

"Twenty-four thousand for the necklace," Meno said.

"Twenty-five for the flatware." Jonas looked like someone had hit him in the head with a bat.

"That is more than my car."

"I cannot accept it," Lysa said.

"Take it back and ask for a refund."

"Lysa, it is fine. When I get home, I am getting paid fifty thousand just to show up for a video call." Lysa drew in a breath like she had three objections lined up and only one mouth.

"And I have a lot more than this in my account. You really don't want to know how much. Just take it. It looks really good on you. It has nice beauty scaling." Jonas closed his eyes.

"They tried to sell me a dud with an oval sapphire for five thousand," Meno added, "but I was ready and got the good one with emerald and more diamonds." Lysa put her hands on her waist.

"What do you know about jewelry, Meno?"

"Nothing. But I can tell a good item from a bad one."

"Sure you can. The five-thousand one was already too expensive, then you went for absolute overkill." Her voice softened only a little.

"How much money do you have?" Meno turned his attention to the table, not wanting to say.

"Does it matter? It's enough. If you want something, I can buy it for you." Jonas straightened.

"Thank you, Meno, but I can take care of my wife." Lysa kept her attention on Meno.

"How much?" His mouth turned sour. He did not want to lie to her, and dodging too hard would only make her dig in until saying the number became the easier problem. So he gave her the version that would either calm her down or start a new one.

"About one million, five hundred fifty-five thousand." Jonas walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. The number emptied Lysa's expression.

"How?"

"Sponsorship." The lie sat badly, but it was the only version he could say.

"Why would they pay you that much?" Lysa asked.

"I know you had a lot of viewers these past few days, but that seems very fast."

"I don't know. It's their money. Even today, I had more than seven million people watching." Jonas dropped the beer can, fumbled, and caught it against his chest.

"Seven… million."

"Yeah," Meno said.

"So don't worry about it. I can buy you a new car too, if you want. Just let me know." Lysa gave him a strange smile, not pure joy, but something gentler and harder to read.

"That's fine, Meno. Congratulations." She touched the necklace again.

"We can buy things we want for ourselves. This necklace is very nice. Thank you. I will treasure it." Meno nodded.

"But do not buy anything else for me. You can buy whatever you want for Mom, unless she tells you not to."

"Okay." The room had become too awkward for him, and he did not fully understand why. His sister's reaction made sense because it was a lot of money, but Jonas's sat stranger, especially now that he was in the kitchen chugging beer from the can like he had just watched his bank account lose a duel.

"I guess I should leave," Meno said.

"I have to get home and get ready for that panel."

"Yeah," Lysa said. She hugged him again, and this one lasted longer.

"Do not waste your money on stupid things," she said near his ear.

"Get a place to live first."

"Yes." They said goodbye. Meno waved to Jonas, who still looked out of it in the kitchen with the beer in his hand, then left with the jewelry box gone, the chicken stolen, and the class problem unsolved. He walked toward the train wondering what that had all been about. Money was supposed to make things cleaner, but somehow every number he said had made the room heavier. Anyway, it was time to get home and do the panel. After that, he would log back into Veyrath and decide his future path.

All the options seemed bad in one way or another.