Athanasia: My Hacker System

John’s initial strategy had been to stay half a step ahead of his neighbours and outmanoeuvre them.

But seeing the scale of the map forced him to abandon those simplistic plans. He wasn’t just competing with the six zones nearby; he was in a race against an established colonial power. And the scale of the new world made him feel dwarfed.

Zingy then detailed their primary objective. It was the same goal shared by every race: to snatch as many newly formed zones as possible. By conquering these zones, they could expand their influence and, more importantly, enslave the fresh blood of the new races.

They were preparing for the inevitable day when this New Sector would merge with the Outer Sector. When that merger occurred, the Demons intended to be the dominant force.

John couldn’t help but admire the cold, long-term vision of the Demon leadership. They weren’t thinking about surviving the week; they were thinking about the next thousand years. However, he also noted the price they paid, sacrificing their most promising warriors by sending them to the unknown, alone, just to get a foothold here.

"As for our race standing," Zingy continued, a flicker of his old racial pride returning, "the Demons are considered one of the top races in the entire Source Code World. We are not necessarily the strongest individuals; a Dragon might best a Demon in a duel, but our methods are superior.

We provide our empire with an insane number of subordinates from other races. And, most crucially, we possess an innate ability to sniff out Mana crystal mines with ease."

"Mana crystal mines? You mean the gemstone mines?" John interrupted, his heart skipping a beat.

Zingy nodded. "It is our greatest gift. We can sense the pulse of Mana veins buried deep beneath the earth. We excavate the resources before others even know they are there, and control the regions that contain the richest Mana crystals.

Our strongholds were built on top of high-tier Mana crystal mines that we found at our early exploration days. Like this, we arm our growing civilisation with high-grade Mana crystals, fueling our weapons, defences, and ships."

"Fascinating," John muttered. He realised that Mana crystals were indeed the gemstones he needed for the defensive upgrades. He turned to Goven and Blakar. "Zingy will help you find the Mana veins around our zone. We need every crystal we can get before the protection period ends."

"Is it even safe to venture out?" Blakar asked, his voice laced with doubt. "Aren’t they hunting us?"

"There is a massive buffer area between our walls and the edge of the protective dome," John explained. He had already noticed this; the dome covered a vast territory that extended tens of miles beyond the Grand Wall.

"We will scan this internal area first. There is a high probability that resources exist within our own borders. But make no mistake: do not step outside that white mist. If you do, you’re dead."

"That is a wise decision," Zingy added, his face darkening. "The commander you humiliated... He is the leader of our local detachment. He is infamous for his vanity and his inability to let a grudge go.

He has already scanned the area assigned to us, and it is crowded with other protected zones. He has nothing left to do but wait for your protection to fall."

Zingy’s words carried a chilling hint: the Demon fleet wasn’t going anywhere. They were going to sit on the horizon like vultures, counting down the days until the mist vanished.

Finally, Zingy explained the demonic hierarchy. There were two distinct types: the winged and the wingless. Wingless Demons like Zingy were common-origin Demons, the backbone of the labour and military forces.

The winged ones, however, were direct descendants of the Great Demons, the first ancestors. They possessed higher cognitive functions, superior abilities, and a level of authority that was absolute.

John listened to Zingy’s testimony until there was truly nothing more to add. In general, he concluded that the Demons weren’t necessarily invincible, but they were incredibly tricky to deal with.

Their greatest advantage was their flying ships; most races in this new world lacked the specialised aerial defences required to fight them properly.

John didn’t need to stress the importance of this to Goven. Once the interrogation concluded, the Krogers’ leader didn’t waste a second. He gathered the most intelligent minds from his own race and even requested assistance from Bulltors.

Within the hour, he had launched a grand brainstorming meeting that looked more like a war council of engineers than a simple gathering.

Seeing Goven working so diligently and with such focus made John inwardly smile. "It’s indeed a blessing to have such capable people by my side," he whispered. Feeling the weight of the last adventure and hectic running finally pressing down on his eyelids, he headed toward his tent and fell into a deep sleep.

While John slept, his friends stayed awake a while longer. The adrenaline was still humming through their veins, and they sat around, dissecting the battle, analysing the Demons’ unique movements, and marvelling at the timely, if coincidental, intervention of the Dragons. Eventually, however, even their adrenaline hit a hard ceiling. They collapsed into sleep for the remainder of the day and through the night.

The next morning, John hit the ground running. He ordered Zingy to accompany Blakar toward the buffer area of the zone to scan for any Mana gemstone mines. As for his friends, he gave them a task he had been mulling over for some time: it was time to prepare the human survivors for what they should do after getting back to Athanasia.

The human survivors had spent the last few days in a daze. They were amazed by the scale of the zone, but they were confused by everything. The heavy lifting was handled by the massive Bulltors, and the technical brilliance came from the Krogers.

Even the newly joined Demon had a clear utility. The humans stood in the middle of this new world, feeling more at a loss than they ever had during the pocket trial. They needed a purpose; they needed a role to play.

John spoke with his friends as they walked toward the human encampment, laying out the psychological groundwork for the next step.

"Listen up," Luke said, taking the lead as the group approached the survivors. "Gather around. We’re going to have a long talk today."

Luke had shown a natural talent for leadership with the Bulltors, capable of instigating their morale and sharpening their fighting spirits. However, what John wanted now wasn’t just a fire for war, but the groundwork of creating a legend.

He wanted his name, the Anomaly God Paragon, to be deeply etched into their hearts as a figure of legend, the singular saviour of humanity.

Luke and the others began to describe John’s deeds in the pocket trial and the new world. Luke, possessing a storyteller’s flair, added small, extra touches to the narrative. He portrayed John not just as a strong warrior, but as a figure of miracles who could crush obstacles single-handedly and bend the rules of the world to his will.

Since the survivors had already witnessed John in action, it wasn’t difficult to engrave this image. He had instructed his friends to repeat his Paragon title constantly. He wanted that name to reverberate so far and wide that by the time these humans returned to Athanasia, the legend would already be waiting for them.

This was a crucial step in John’s grand plan, one that required genuine belief rather than forced obedience. He had considered using contracts to bind them, but he realised that true loyalty born of awe was far more resilient. Seeing them in a trance, listening to the unbelievable stories told by Elena and Luke, John felt a sense of satisfaction.

"It’s time to check the loot," John muttered to himself as he stepped away from the crowd.

He turned his focus toward the storage devices he had stripped from the Demons back at the battle. "I should have tried to grab a few of the Dragons as well," he mused.

"I’m sure those folks have incredible gear. If it wasn’t for that bastard waiting at the border, I’d go back to the battlefield right now... Or perhaps I can try to do it using my Sandbox ability."

The thought took root. He checked his map, seeing the battlefield still littered with the remains of carnage. It was a goldmine of high-tier materials and racial gear just waiting to be salvaged.

Leaving his friends to continue the myth-building task, John headed toward the northern gate. He spotted the silver Demon ships hovering in the distance, a silent, watchful blockade.

However, he didn’t cross the gate at once. Instead, he activated his Sandbox ability, layering a veil of cloaking over his body. He slipped past their encirclement without noticing anything wrong.

Once clear of the ships’ sensory range, he sprinted toward the site of the battle. He didn’t lower his guard for a second. Even though he couldn’t spot any ships on the horizon, he pulsed his ability every few minutes, ensuring that any high-altitude scouts would see nothing but empty plains.