Half an hour had passed since the global "start of the game". Half an hour of chaos, panic and incomprehensible silence in which the world seemed to re-sort itself. But for those who had chosen a class, felt a strange, new presence in their minds. An intuitive feeling, as if there was more to discover. Reality had become distorted and the system seemed ready to reveal more secrets.

Elton Mace sat in his swivel chair, his hands clasped in front of him. The chaos outside was only a side note to him. His analysts struggled to sort out the rudimentary data from the "start of the game". But Elton had the feeling that there was more. A hunch, fed by his savant mind and his insatiable urge for control. He concentrated, tried to "bug" the invisible interface, to "hack" it, to find a "command". And then it was there: not as a pop-up, but as a seamless, transparent projection that lay elegantly in his field of vision. The game menu.

His piercing gaze wandered over the options: Character Details, Skills, Talents, Equipment, Storage, Shop. His lips curled into an almost imperceptible grin. A system. A complete system. He mentally tapped on character details. A stream of numbers appeared: his name, Scholar (level 1), his attributes - Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, all recorded numerically. He switched to the store. A global economy? He immediately saw the endless possibilities. Coins as currency. The "game" wasn’t just a threat; it was the ultimate platform for monetization and global domination. He wouldn’t just survive, he would rule. His first instructions, which came through his smart device, were now focused not only on data collection, but also on securing access to potential ’store’ content and ’coins’.

Leo Richter had largely ignored his colleagues in the office, who were lost in panic and despair. He sat in front of a blank screen, trying to reconstruct the anomaly he had seen: the pop-up, the class selection. There had to be an explanation. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the structure of the supposed "game". If there was an interface, there had to be a backend, a menu. He thought of command lines, debugging tools, hidden functions. And as his mind ran through the imagined sequence of commands, the game menu materialized before him.

The scholar’s eyes widened with intellectual desire. Character details, skills, talents. That was it! The innards of the system! He mentally clicked on Skills. His initial scholar skills appeared: Analysis, Knowledge Memory, Languages, Research. Next to it was a small arrow pointing to further, as yet unknown abilities. The store option at the bottom fascinated him. An integrated economy? The "game" was far more complex than just a random event. It was a universal system, and he would understand each of its gears. He immediately began taking notes, his glasses askew on his nose as he meticulously cataloged each menu option. Knowledge was now his currency.

Barrett "Bear" Sterling had turned his anger into calculated aggression, but the damn screen in his office was still there, even after he’d chosen his class. What the hell was that now? He yelled at his secretary to figure out how to "operate" this shit. The scholar Miss Albright, who had taught him about the power of thought, was already busy analyzing data when Barrett called her over again. "Miss Albright! I want a fucking menu here! What the fuck kind of game is this that has no fucking interface?" Miss Albright winced. "Sir, maybe... maybe you just have to want it? A thought..." Barrett let out a frustrated grunt. Want. He wanted profit. He wanted power. And at that moment, he wanted a menu. And with an unwilling but dominant tug, the game menu manifested itself in front of him.

Coins. That was the first thing that caught his eye, right next to character details. Money. A global currency? This "game" was worth its weight in gold! He clicked on the store. Things could be sold and bought there. Loot. equipment. He already saw himself as the king of this new economy. Equipment. Level 1 weapons and armor were displayed to him. Shovel-sized hands formed into fists. He would arm himself, turn his lands into a fortress. This was no child’s play. This was a takeover battle. And he had found the manual. He ordered Miss Albright to immediately gather all the information about "Coins" and "Shop" mechanisms.

Viktor Volkov had ignored the knock on his door; his attention was fully focused on the inexplicable interface he had just mentally activated. His mind, trained in infiltration and deciphering systems, was searching for a deeper level of control. If this was a "game", there were rules, and if there were rules, there were vulnerabilities. He thought of hidden protocols, of subroutines, of the invisible threads that moved all power in secret. He focused his entire mental concentration on the space behind the now empty interface. And with an almost uncanny precision that only a mystic could muster, the game menu laid itself open before him.

Character details. That was the beginning: information about the players. Which skills they chose, how they developed. Knowledge was power. Skills. He saw his own abilities: Perception, intuition, recognizing hidden things. But also empty fields for future developments. The store was a nice distraction for the masses, the warehouse uninteresting. His gaze fell on the invisible connections emanating from the options. That was the nervous system of this "game". He immediately began to specify his instructions over his radio: Not just about the spread of the phenomenon, but about the individuals’ class choices. About their first interactions with this menu. Who talked about it? Who shared what information? The world was an open book if you knew where to find the invisible ink.

Luna had settled in for the night in an abandoned store whose shutters were only half closed. The smoke of distant fires still lingered in the air. The old woman she had helped had disappeared somewhere in the darkness, and Luna was alone again. She leaned against a wall, her knees pulled to her chest. Her thief class felt like an echo of her life. But this new aspect, this "game", was more than just a metaphor. She remembered the feeling when the interface had burned itself into her mind. Was there more? A trick? She thought of the old, simple video games she had sometimes seen in shop windows. Was there a... a menu? Her mind groped cautiously, anxiously, then demandingly. And it appeared. The game menu.

Her green eyes widened. It was so simple. And yet so overwhelming. Character details, skills, talents, equipment, storage, store. For a moment, she forgot the hunger, the danger. Talents. Her fingers twitched. Conceal. Pickpocketing. Lock picking. The skills she had painstakingly acquired were now listed there as values. And equipment? Suddenly, in her mind, she was wearing light, dark camouflage clothing and holding two slender, sharp daggers. It was an illusion, but she felt... real. The warehouse could be useful for keeping important things safe. The store? She didn’t understand the currency, but it promised equipment. The "game" was different than expected. It was a weapon. A tool. And Luna knew who needed tools the most - the nameless, the forgotten, those who lived in the shadows.

Next Chapter: First Harvest