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Less than an hour had passed since Elton Mace had discovered the game menu. In the Aether Dynamics command center, deep beneath the penthouse that still carried the whimpering echoes of chaos, screens glowed with the first data gathered. Panic reports from New York, Paris, Tokyo. Failures of critical infrastructures. But still no clear system of threats. Not until now.

"Sir! We have an anomaly!" The voice of Dr. Anya Sharma, one of his leading AI specialists, trembled. Elton, who was standing at one of the holographic monitors on which he visualized real-time global class election data, slowly turned around. "Speak precisely, Dr. Sharma." "A... a rift in space-time, sir, visually confirmed. In Presidio Park, San Francisco. A... portal." A drone shot appeared on the main screen: a glistening, crack-like rift hovered over the once-green lawn, surrounded by screaming people and the wreckage of a stranded traffic mess.

Elton’s lips curled into an imperceptible grin. Forecast confirmed. The manifestation of the threat. The next step in the game. He mentally tapped on his interface and opened a new data window. "Analyze the activation conditions." They crawled out of the portal. Brown, slippery, with too many legs and almond-shaped heads. Insect-like, but the size of a sheepdog. Their jaws snapped as they plunged into the crowd. The screaming grew louder. Police cars raced up, sirens blared again. Officers jumped out, weapons at the ready. They opened fire. Machine-gun bursts tore the air, but the bullets - to Elton’s quiet, knowing satisfaction - didn’t seem to hurt the creatures. They bounced off, dissolved in a soft hiss or simply flew through as if the monsters were mere mirages. The officials, stunned, tried to keep firing, but their bullets were meaningless. Non-players. Worldly weapons. No use.

Then Elton saw something else. A man in worn clothing, his figure reminiscent of a warrior of the class he had seen in the menu, charged at one of the critters with an improvised club. The cudgel lit up briefly as it hit, and the insectoid monster lurched, yowling. Another, more agile type, presumably a ranger, fired arrows that snagged the creatures and tore them to the ground. They were instinct-driven, clumsy, vulnerable by the right method.

"Fascinating," Elton murmured. The system was relentless. It protected its rules. That meant: controlling the players was the only way. "Dr. Sharma, all resources to the exact location of these portals. And identify every player who is successful against these creatures. We need to analyze their attributes and tactics. The non-players are... no longer relevant in this battle. Publish an official statement from Aether Dynamics immediately. Warn the public that conventional means are useless. Only those who have adapted to the new system can survive." He turned back to his holographic screens. This was the first harvest. Raw. Unspectacular. But it revealed the fundamental truth: humanity no longer had the rules under control. He, Elton Mace, would rule them.

Next Chapter: Shadowhunt