Former Ranker's Newbie Life-Chapter 40

Kwon Hyuk-Jin, CEO of the advertising agency Performance, ran a business that thrived on manipulation. His company handled viral marketing campaigns, but that was only the surface. They also pushed exaggerated ads laced with just enough falsehoods to skirt legality. If the price was right, they spread malicious rumors to sabotage competitors.

They’d take on jobs to boost rookie celebrities, laying the groundwork for their rise, while also manufacturing and distributing rumors and dirt sheets to take down more established stars.

On top of that, they ran so-called wrecking channels, scouring the internet for scandals and controversies, seasoning them with just the right amount of spice to turn them into clickbait gold.

In short, if it could turn public attention into cold, hard cash, Performance was all over it, and not in a good way. Even among viral marketing firms, Kwon Hyuk-Jin’s Performance was bottom of the barrel.

Slamming his desk, Hyuk-Jin cursed at his monitor. “Fucking hell, are you kidding me? Does his dumbass think he can change his whole life with one item? It’s gonna be worthless in a couple of months anyway. What? A hundred million won? Does he think ‘a hundred million won’ is some kind of baby’s name?”

But no matter how much money he made off shady business, it didn’t mean much when he had just as many ways to burn through it. Between gambling, women, booze, and gaming, his bank account was anything but healthy anyway.

Kwon Hyuk-Jin, better known as the Blood King in LOST, slammed his desk in frustration once again while glaring at the price of an item he wanted. It was way higher than he’d expected.

“Fucking hell. What’s taking these dumbasses so long? With the bait I threw out, people should’ve been swarming already!” He thought back to the video he had uploaded a few hours ago, an announcement for Bloodshed Guild’s massive upcoming raid.

It had all the right buzzwords: “first-ever,” “large-scale,” and “raid.” Gamers were suckers for that kind of hype. All that hype meant attention, which meant revenue. Kwon Hyuk-Jin knew that better than anyone. That was why he’d gone ahead and posted the raid teaser, fully aware that it would leak details about their operation. He’d told his guild members it was a crucial step in cementing Bloodshed Guild as a true powerhouse, but in reality, it was all about the money.

Then why the hell aren’t people biting—

Just as he was about to lose his temper again, his messenger app chimed.

—Boss, we just got a call from a cable network. Also, a VR capsule manufacturer reached out...

The message was from Kim Miri, his secretary and fellow guild member. More importantly, it meant money was on the way. Another text popped up.

—Two streaming platforms just contacted us at the same time. But instead of the company, they’re reaching out through the guild. What should I do?

A grin spread across Kwon Hyuk-Jin’s face. “I knew it. No way those dumb fish wouldn’t bite on bait like this.”

He could smell profit in the air. If this played out the way he wanted, he was about to step into a whole new league.

***

The Mythril Steel necklace and earring sold for far more than Do-Jin had expected. He had gotten 12,000 Gold, equivalent to 12 million won in real cash. That was a ridiculous amount for just two accessories. With no level restrictions and the option to resell them later for a decent return, demand had driven the price sky-high.

Do-Jin had also made more than he expected after selling off the rest of his loot, and all that wealth would go toward his revenge. Once he set aside living expenses and an emergency fund, he was left with 18,000 Gold.

My weapon is still fine for now. My accessories are decent, so if I just upgrade my armor, I’ll be much more durable.

The Suspicious Ritual Sword he had snagged from the hidden dungeon was a high-grade item. It came with a defensive penalty, but its raw attack power rivaled that of a Level 50 weapon. Black-Stained Robe, another rare find from the same dungeon, was still solid enough that replacing it wasn’t even a consideration. With those two covered, he decided to swap out the rest of his mismatched armor set.

The problem was that even after scraping together every last coin, getting good armor was still a stretch. Level 50 gear, the highest tier currently available in LOST, was absurdly expensive. Any gear below that was technically obtained as part of an extended tutorial. The real game started at Level 50, where combat, progression, and item farming all became significantly harder. Naturally, this sent prices through the roof.

Even F-rank junk started at a million won. If it was even remotely usable, the price jumped into the 3-million-won range. For B-rank gear, comparable to Rare-grade items in other games, prices could easily break past 10 million won if the stats were decent. That alone was proof of how desperate high-level players were for better gear.

The gaming world was flooded with articles hyping up so-called “gold farmers,” claiming that one lucky drop in LOST could make a player rich. Of course, those articles never mentioned the insane costs of actually obtaining those high-tier items.

Between gear, consumables, and the price of accessing top-tier hunting grounds, players needed to sink anywhere from tens of millions to hundreds of millions of won just to stay competitive. The ones actually making money weren’t the top players. The real profit came from Level 40 players farming mid-tier items with decent resale value. As for the players trying to break into the upper ranks, they were simply bleeding money.

And that only applied to the ones barely clinging to the upper ranks...

If someone wanted to truly dominate, it wasn’t enough to just grind harder, spend more, and put in extra effort. Do-Jin knew from experience that just staying ahead of the game didn’t guarantee a return on investment.

In his past life, he had burned through ridiculous amounts of money, pushed himself to the limit, and hunted day and night, all just to keep his lead over the competition. However, the players at the very top were so far ahead that catching up was nearly impossible. They had something extra, whether it was secret information about the game, absurd finds, or raw talent. These were things money and effort alone couldn’t buy.

The Blood King was one of those players.

But this time, that lucky bastard wasn’t getting his golden opportunity. Do-Jin was going to take it for himself. This would be his stepping stone, the beginning of his rise to the top.

“But still... these prices are insane. Even C-rank is too damn expensive.”

Just looking at C-rank gear bouncing around the 5-million-won range was enough to give him a headache. In the end, he had no choice but to buy C-rank chest and leg armor while settling for D-rank for the boots and other minor pieces.

“This one’s actually worth going for, even at B-rank.”

There were always hidden gems, gear with great value for the price. Do-Jin pulled up the market listing for a B-rank item called Ramael’s Detailed Silk Gloves.

Just as he expected, despite being B-rank, the gloves were dirt cheap at 2,000 Gold.

“Yeah, no shit. Who the hell would use gear that increases mana consumption?”

Right now, the LOST meta was all about mana efficiency. The moment an item had mana regeneration, casters, especially mages, would jump on it like starving addicts chasing their next fix. In a world like that, gear with a 30% increase in mana consumption was treated like actual garbage.

Sure, the gloves had a 10% amplification bonus on all spells, but in an era where mana shortages were a constant struggle, no one in their right mind would use them.

However, Do-Jin had the Mana Heart, three pieces of Mythril Steel accessories boosting mana recovery, and far higher stat points than the average player. He was never going to run out of mana. For him, sacrificing 30% more mana in exchange for 10% stronger magic was a goddamn bargain.

“Even my luck’s lining up today.”

Just as he was about to buy the gloves for 2,000 Gold, a new listing popped up for half price. He instantly grabbed it. That was 1,000 Gold saved.

“Damn, someone’s really pissed off. Not that I blame them.”

The drop rate for B-rank gear was practically nonexistent from regular monsters that spawned in hunting grounds for Level 50 and above. Sure, killing elites or boss mobs boosted those odds significantly, but even finding one of those monsters was a miracle in itself.

Basically, getting a B-rank item was like winning the lottery. And when that one-in-a-million drop turned out to be something nobody wanted, it was infuriating. Do-Jin knew that pain all too well. He had plenty of memories of getting hyped over a rare drop, only to realize it was worthless, screaming in frustration as he held a useless piece of junk.

With a silent nod of respect for the poor bastard who got screwed over, he bought the gloves without hesitation. By the time he finished shopping, he had spent 12,500 Gold. It was a huge expense, but at least he was now covered in a fully upgraded armor set, from chest and legs to head, boots, and gloves. Compared to before, his defenses were on a whole different level.

And finally, for the last piece of his build, Do-Jin poured almost everything he had left into something crucial: a Tier 4 magic spell.

Once a player hit Level 50, their Magic Circuits expanded down to just below their elbows, unlocking Tier 4 magic. Just like gear, spellbooks also skyrocketed in price once they hit the Level 50 threshold. Buying multiple spells was out of the question, so Do-Jin focused on the one he needed most right now, which was the tier 4 Light-element attack spell, Flash Lance.

“I know it’s still early in the game, but how can a single spellbook cost over 5 million won? What the actual fuck...”

Still, this was one of those rare moments when money actually solved problems. At least for now, he could just buy the magic he wanted. Once he started dealing with spells that had special conditions to unlock, that was when the real suffering would begin.

Some spells required proficiency in lower-tier magic, while others demanded mastery of a specific attribute. There were even cases where specializing in one element made it impossible to use its opposite. In his past life, Do-Jin was a perfect example of that. His Magic Circuits had specialized in Destruction, which made him completely incapable of casting anything else.

Well, it won’t be my problem this time around. As he recalled the nightmare that was magic-user progression, a wicked grin spread across his face.

Do-Jin had suffered through unbelievable agony back then, but now that he had the Grimoire of Truth, he no longer had to deal with bullshit restrictions like elemental affinities or magic classifications. He could freely learn any spell he wanted, without worrying about the nightmare that awaited most aspiring mages.

Just the thought of it made him grin ear to ear. He could already picture the mage forums exploding with rage and despair. The sheer number of complaints, curses, and wails of suffering was going to be glorious.

“Life’s all about keeping a positive mindset.”

Maybe it was because he was so optimistic, but the insanely overpriced spellbook suddenly felt reasonable.

[You have acquired the skill: Flash Lance.]

“With that, everything’s in place.”

Now, all he had to do was wait. Of course, he’d be grinding non-stop in the meantime.

***

It was in the morning of October 10. The Blood King, guild leader of Bloodshed Guild, wasn’t logged into LOST just yet. At the moment, he was just Kwon Hyuk-Jin, handling business over the phone.

“Make sure the new emblem gets plenty of screen time. This is basically a surprise announcement that Bloodshed Guild is officially part of Dynamic Gaming.”

“Of course. The entire raid will be streamed live, and the guild’s updated emblem will be visible on everyone’s shoulders and backs throughout the event. When we finish the raid, we’ll even plant our guild flag on the boss’s corpse.”

“Good. I’ll be counting on you.”

No sooner had he ended the call with the major esports organization than another call came in.

“Hello, this is Hwang Woo-Young, producer at KGN. We’re three hours from broadcast, but you still haven’t enabled our stream access. Since we’re airing this on TV, not just our MeTube channel, we need to run some tests. Mind unlocking the streaming permissions ASAP?”

Ah, right. I was just about to log in. I’ll handle it as soon as I’m online.

“Appreciate it. Oh, by the way, we’re the only ones with camera control, right?”

“Obviously. You guys gave us five full minutes of prime-time ads. Speaking of which, it’s five one-minute slots, right?”

“Relax, as long as the stream goes smoothly, we can stretch that to ten, even fifteen minutes. But don’t forget, you’re doing our interview first before talking to the internet streamers. We’re a legit broadcasting station, after all. Totally different level from those online guys.”

“Haha, of course. I’ll leave the real-time coverage in your hands.”

As soon as the call ended, Kwon Hyuk-Jin scoffed. “Fucking idiots, acting like TV still means something. A bunch of government leeches barely surviving on subsidies, but they wanna act all high and mighty. Their MeTube and online broadcasts are the only thing keeping them afloat.”

Shaking his head, he checked the notifications that had piled up while he was on the phone. His entire screen was filled with money-making opportunities.

“Might need to set up another corporation after this is over,” he said with a wide grin.

Lost in visions of a bright future, Kwon Hyuk-Jin, the Blood King, never even imagined that a deep, ominous shadow was creeping over the flawless path he had envisioned. Oblivious to it all, he lay down in his capsule and logged into LOST.