The System had learned, over the weeks, exactly how to time its suggestions for maximum success — which meant waiting until Ari was comfortably horizontal, snack within reach, mind wandering somewhere pleasant and unguarded.
Host.
Mm.
[Now that we have a proper hit on our hands, I suggest establishing a Mission Hall.] Ari cracked one eye open.
A what.
[Guest points are dwindling, host.
Purchases outpace income.
The economy is beginning to stagnate.
We need a channel through which guests can earn Void Points through their own effort, rather than relying entirely on selling pieces of themselves to a crystal.] She considered this for exactly as long as it took to finish the bite she was chewing.
Fine.
Build it.
[Confirmed.
Deducting Void Points.] • • The building rose beside the Exchange Center within the hour — clean lines, tall doors, a wide interior that filled itself in with rows of quiet, waiting counters before anyone had even finished walking through the entrance.
A floating interface bloomed to life the moment the first guest crossed the threshold, patient and glowing, ready to explain itself to whoever asked first.
Sheldon asked first, predictably, already circling the interface like a man conducting a formal inspection.
[MISSION HALL — RULES] [1.
Guests and shopkeepers may post missions.
A minimal registration fee applies.] [2.
Guests who accept a mission will be evaluated for whether their strength is sufficient to face its danger.] [3.
Void Points are earned primarily through merit — meaning the mission benefits the world it takes place in.
Missions involving unwarranted murder, malicious intent, or unfounded violence will be rejected.] [4.
Mission takers will be teleported back to Void City immediately should death become imminent.] [5.
Any damage sustained — physical, mental, spiritual, or existential — will be healed and restored.
The associated fee will be deducted automatically from the mission taker’s balance.] [6.
All rules are absolute.
The City Lord may add to them at her discretion.] Sheldon read it twice, and his expression shifted, somewhere around the third rule, from skepticism into something close to genuine respect.
“This is actually well designed,” he admitted, grudgingly.
“A market for effort, with built-in insurance and an ethics filter.
I have several complaints, obviously, but none of them are about the structure.” “Wait, wait, wait.” Naruto had pushed his way to the front, practically vibrating.
“So I can just — go do stuff?
Actual missions?
And get paid for it?” “That does appear to be the offer,” Robin said, reading over his shoulder with open interest.
“That’s basically getting to be everything I want to be, like a ninja for real!” Naruto’s grin threatened to split his face in half.
“I’m SO doing this.” Harry, close behind him, was reading rule three with a small, thoughtful frown.
“So it has to actually help someone.
It’s not just — fighting for the sake of it.” “Guess that rules out picking fights with dragons for fun,” Luke said, mostly joking, though Halcyon perked up at the word dragon regardless.
“When have you ever picked a fight with a dragon for fun?” “I haven’t.
Yet.
I’m keeping my options open.” • • Gojo had made it to the front of the crowd by then, arms crossed, reading the rules with the particular delighted focus of a man who had just found a new game to break.
“So hypothetically,” he said, to no one in particular, “if I take, like, the hardest mission available, immediately, on day one—” “You’d get evaluated first,” Mary said, appearing at his elbow with her usual composed efficiency.
“Rule two exists specifically to stop that.” “Boo.” “You’ll survive the disappointment.” Levi, further down the row, read through the rules once, silently, arms crossed, and offered his verdict in exactly four words.
“Reasonable.
I’ll take one.” “Of course you will,” Gojo muttered.
“Show-off.” Sanji, arriving late and immediately drawn to rule five, tapped the line about restoration with real interest.
“So if I take a mission and get hurt, it just — fixes itself.
Automatically.” “For a fee,” Ai clarified.
“Deducted from your own earnings.
Nothing’s free.” “Still better odds than most of what I sign up for.” • • Tanjiro read the rules slowly, carefully, the way he read most things, and something in his posture eased visibly by the time he reached the end of them.
“Missions that actually help people,” he said, quiet, mostly to himself.
“That’s — that’s good.
That’s really good.” Erina, arriving from Restaurant Yukihira still faintly floured from the morning’s prep, skimmed the interface with far less enthusiasm than most of the crowd around her.
“This seems like an enormous liability structure,” she said, critically.
“Who’s underwriting all of this healing?” “The City Lord, apparently,” Soma said, grinning.
“Sounds like a pretty good deal for us, though.” “That’s not the part I’m concerned about.” Toriko, meanwhile, had already found what he considered the single most important detail buried in rule three.
“Beneficial to the world,” he repeated, eyes lighting up.
“So if I go hunt something dangerous that’s been terrorizing people, and bring it back—” “You’d get paid for the danger and whatever you brought back,” Komatsu finished, equally delighted.
“That’s — that’s basically our old job.
With better insurance.” “I love this place,” Toriko said, with the simple, total sincerity of a man who meant it completely.
• • Ari watched all of it unfold from her usual spot on the sofa, mildly pleased with herself, the System’s earlier suggestion already proving itself out in the noise rising from across the square.
Not bad, she thought, settling deeper into the cushions.
[The System appreciates the acknowledgment, host.] Don’t get used to it.
[Already too late, host.]