"Now… how should I proceed with my next project?"
I sat at the makeshift seat, a simple stool cobbled together from wood and metal, and began browsing the internet.
My terminal, connected to the Gestalt System, somehow maintained a perfect, high-speed connection to Earth's web.
It was my only lifeline to my old world to not get bored, and now, my primary tool for my goals of rebuilding the City.
My goal wasn't just to idly surf. I was planning on creating a website, a digital gateway to connect this world to Earth.
It would function as a registration page, like one for a new, immersive Virtual Reality MMO.
In essence, it was a form of contract. By signing up, potential "gamers" would agree to enter this world, or rather, to have their consciousness remotely linked to it.
Plus, the Gestalt System has no issue of finding their addresses and entire information.
When they've submitted their registration. It was already a contract. "Hehehe…"
First, I'd need to get the word out. I'd have to send my advertisements to sites connected to the major ad-flow networks.
A well-placed banner, a pre-roll video ad on a gaming channel... I'd need to be smart, targeting those who were bored, those looking for the next big thing.
Certainly a lot of victims to choose from.
But to be honest, the situation wasn't looking good.
The facilities here in Shelter 01 were lackluster, to put it mildly.
It's unclean and it lacks maintenance, inevitable for something abandoned for many years possibly thousands, this was a building comparable to a medium-sized mall.
Though, thankfully, the R-Corp Singularity—the singularity connected to the Gestalt System—had an invaluable ability.
It could create biological stasis pods for clones.
This system allowed for more clones to be generated, and more importantly, for their "players" to log off and log back in, and even revived with the same specification by copying their previous saves when they had recently logged off.
The fundamental issue with clones was their lack of sentience; a clone had no consciousness.
It was just a blank slate, an empty vessel. A metaphysical entity, a soul, a consciousness, had to inhabit the body for it to function.
Thanks to the Gestalt System, that wasn't an issue.
The system could generate what I called "virtual gears."
These weren't physical items but data-made constructs, quantum-entangled nodes that could not be replicated or destroyed.
They existed in a state of flux, a "quantimized" form, serving as the medium to connect an Earthling's mind to a clone's body in this world.
They could shift from quantumized to physical, and can be done oppositely depending on the protocols.
The sales pitch was simple: a virtual reality game with an ultra-realistic sensory experience. Full dive, full immersion.
It would have advanced NPC dialogues, incredibly deep world lore, and countless more features.
The one key feature I'd build in? You wouldn't feel any pain. All the gore stuff would be censored as well.
You could experience the visceral thrill, at the same time, none of the debilitating agony.
Well, in truth, it wasn't a hyper-realistic game. It was reality in another Galaxy.
"Hehehe…" A low, creepy chuckle escaped me. I couldn't help it as I thought of the wonderfully nefarious schemes to make the leeks—ahem, I mean players—work hard.
They would be the ones to rebuild the City for me. They would toil, fight, and die, all for the sake of "content," "loot," and "experience points."
To make the City Great Again.
The main issue with the City was that… nobody was living here.
The only inhabitants were the monsters, the Abnormality-spawned entities, and the other horrors common to find in the original Project Moon series.
I tried searching outside if people can enter here. However…
I had tried, in the beginning, to move my true metaphysical body outside of even the Outskirts. It was no use. I was anchored here, bound to the City. I couldn't leave this place.
"It won't be an issue with this brand new body," I muttered while flexing the fingers of my current Bloodfiend body. "I can probably visit the Outskirts as well…"
I paused at my words. No, that wasn't a wise choice. It was a foolish, reckless thought. I might end up captured, or worse, dead. If an Abnormality capable of interacting with concepts came to approach me, my physical body would be the least of my worries.
My true, metaphysical body remained at the center of District 1, perpetually sitting on the roof of the main L-Corp building, staring at the distant, ruined City skyline.
As for me, this Bloodfiend body, I could leave various fragments of consciousness in other vessels.
But creating more bodies for myself was pointless. There was no point. I couldn't do everything alone. That was the entire reason for this "game."
Plus, there was a significant risk of those fragments becoming corrupted, developing their own wills, or simply going mad from creatures that can corrupt information or concepts.
The possibilities are endless because the Outskirts has been unexplored even in the original story of Project Moon's Verse.
Which is precisely why I created those clones and devised this plan to plug them into the players' brains. Hahaha. What a genius idea.
Plus, they couldn't be corrupted either. The Gestalt System would log them off and give them the screen of "You Died," upon waking up back in their world.
With this, I'd have a self-evolving and, crucially, reviving army of players from another world.
However, my resources placed a hard limit on this plan. I could only amass 50 players at maximum for this initial "beta test."
Otherwise, I'd run out of Enkephalin, the psychic fuel that powered the Gestalt System. I'd also drain my resources for building the stasis pods.
Those pods were complex; they not only healed the clones but also saved their body specifications into the gene bank of the system, allowing for perfect, rapid regrowth upon "death."
Sigh.
Such was the life of the Founder. I had to start from the absolute beginning with severely limited resources, a handful of high-level technologies I barely understood, and a completely destroyed infrastructure.
So, I started to renovate Shelter 01. If players were coming, I had to make it more pleasant to look at.
A "starter town" or "lobby" couldn't be a collapsed-roof wreck. The gaping cracks in the walls were filled with concrete.
I learned how from Earth's internet, watching hours of YouTube tutorials and reading DIY guides on Google. I even consulted ChatGPT for basic structural engineering principles.
I had spent a considerable amount of time on this. Thankfully, my Bloodfiend body's needs were minimal and even subtle. No sort of psychological hunger like in the original story.
I didn't need to drink much blood from the clone vats to maintain my peak form, so I managed to save up on vital resources.
Innumerable time passed again… or rather, it just felt that way.
I wasn't truly sure if it was day or night in the City.
The gloomy, perpetual twilight beneath the smog-choked clouds never changed.
The City was a monument to oppressive stillness.
It might've been several months. It might have been years.
In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter. I was immortal.
Time was just a resource to be spent.
"This," I said, wiping a non-existent speck of dust from my sleeve, "should do."
Staring at the brand-new place, I felt a sense of pride.
It had been renovated after countless trials and errors of development using scavenged metal and self-mixed concrete.
It has truly been an Odyssey.
Shelter 01 of District 1 was now refurbished.
I had installed functioning bathrooms, a basic water purification system, and even a lounging facility for players to hang out in—a few patched-up sofas and tables recovered from the mall's ruins.
Most importantly, I'd set up a workshop, a vital hub for weapon and clothes designing, crafting, and embroidery.
I had spent the rest of my "downtime" hunting. I prowled the silent streets during the timeskip, stocking up on "revival materials" by hunting Sweepers and recycling their corpses.
Their bodies, once broken down by the system, provided the base organic matter for the clones.
While I was rolling in the gacha after getting 1500 Lunacy. I had managed to get a drone.
[ K-Corp Regen Drone ]
It didn't only have automatic functions that the Gestalt System can modify upon temporarily connecting it to the Teeminal. But it also had camera functions. How neat.
Nonetheless, I had spent my time dilly-dallying with philosophical thoughts while renovating Shelter 01.
Since Bloodfiends didn't need sleep and I possessed a natural immunity to mental erosion.
I spent about 24 hours a day on these tasks, a perpetual cycle of physical labor and deep contemplation.
At this point, I wasn't human anymore, huh?
It didn't matter. As long as I lived, I didn't care if I was a monster or not.
Before I had transmigrated, I had abandoned the need to be accepted by society.
From now on, I am the maker of my own society.
I smiled at the brand-new place. "Not bad. It looks just like the image I copied from Earth."
I could honestly become an engineer and an artist at this point.
The artist part… it wasn't just because of this building.
The reason was that I had built an entire set of a uniform using Nuovo fabric, the kind primarily used for high-end Fixers in the City.
This set was specifically outfitted for my 'Administrator' persona.
This "Nuovo Fabrics" option was the only clothing material available in the system's gacha-like crafting module.
From what I remembered of the lore, this was from the Human Silk Wing.
They had technologies to create these high-quality, impossibly durable silks... made from humans.
The clothing came with augmentations, providing strong defense, enhancements to strength and agility, and even psychological defense from external factors.
I tried not to think about that too hard.
Anyways, I had to remember my role.
Administrator.
The so-called Representative of the Head.
The closest being to a Monarch in this new City I would build.
I had to rehearse my lines many times as an NPC and Faction Leader. I couldn't act naturally like a human. Otherwise, the leeks would start to question reality.
I turned my attention to the uniform that the system had introduced.
[ The Uniform of the Administrator (Rare) ]
> * It was created by a beginner, but the materials are rare and valuable enough to create something good even without any techniques or elite mastery. It will be sufficient for its purpose.
> * [ Provides physical and psychological defense, also slightly enhances agility and strength. ]
> *
It was a pity I couldn't add more effects. I didn't specialize in tailoring, so I had mainly relied on the inherent properties of the Nuovo fabrics themselves.
"Appearances are what's most important," I muttered with a justifiable logic behind my actions to easen my lack of skills.
"The stats are merely additional effects."
Hearing my own sigh, I realized I could always make a new one later.
Perhaps a player skilled in embroidery could craft something truly good enough for these nuovo fabrics to reach SR or even SSR.
I went to the newly installed bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.
A tall, handsome young man with light green hair stood there.
He was dressed in an imposing, aristocrat-and-militaristic-style uniform.
A deep red cape hung from his shoulders, fixed by a clasp over the high, black-feathered collars.
He wore pristine white gloves, which provided slightly better strength thanks to the augmentations woven into the fabric.
His pale white skin and crimson eyes, combined with a sharp, aloof expression, radiated clear detachment and distance.
It perfectly fit the image I was going for in roleplaying this character.
No… I corrected myself.
It felt like living that character's life, not just roleplaying.
I returned to the terminal of the Gestalt System and published the website.
I glanced quietly at the site. Thinking whether to buy SSL or TLS Certification. I shook my head thinking it wasn't necessary.
I didn't have any currency from Earth to buy one, and creating one was a waste of time.
The website couldn't be hacked anyway, not with the Gestalt System's god-level firewall protecting it.