Silas's current destination lay to his left—on one of the smaller meteorites holding a grand, ornate restaurant named Wandering Tavern.
He moved calmly toward it. The distance was vast, but he swam through the space with ease.
When he first entered the world lobby, he couldn't control himself. He simply floated aimlessly, bumping into other players. They told him to buy a cheap item from the store—something that let him move freely and boosted his speed.
The stronger the item, the greater the effect. Rich players with top-tier gear could cross the entire Sunday region in a blink. He'd heard rumors of even more powerful items, but they cost fortunes—far beyond most players.
Silas had bought a mid-tier one. He was comfortably wealthy and had earned plenty of points, so it wasn't a burden.
His item was a flying boat—not large, but spacious enough for ten people.
He summoned it now and stepped aboard.
The boat glided forward smoothly, fast but not blindingly so. The distance still felt long.
He complained, "It would have been good if the game company hadn't banned using codes to teleport in the Sunday region..."
Previously, players could teleport anywhere they wanted using codes inside the Sunday region. But the owners of those golf fields and restaurants protested that if customers could just teleport straight their destinations, the customers wouldn't bother exploring anything else. After their joint complaint, the game company banned most teleportation codes and allowed only a small number of designated emergence points.
So he had to slowly go all the way to the tavern. He was really bored.
He glanced around.
Players moved in every direction, each using different items.
Some used low-tier items: simple shoes that let them hover, gauntlets for short dashes, or basic flying swords that wobbled slightly.
Others had mid-tier items like him—boats, floating leaves, magic carpets, small chariots.
A few rare individuals rode top-tier items: massive ships, sleek spacecrafts, phoenix-shaped gliders, or dragon-scale platforms that left glowing trails.
But top-tier items were scarce for solo players.
Most belonged to entire sects—used for group travel or display. Individuals rarely owned them.
Silas continued gliding on his flying boat toward the Wandering Tavern meteorite.
He watched the flow of players around him.
Some drifted toward the entertainment zone—restaurants, gambling zones, clubs pulsing with music and neon auras.
Others headed right, toward the sprawling black market landmass. Shady figures huddled in groups, exchanging whispers and quick handshakes.
A few players veered toward the sports zones—cricket pitches alive with cheers, tennis courts with sharp volleys, golf fields dotted like floating giant balls.
But the monstrous stadium behind India Concord remained eerily empty. No crowds, no lights, no matches yet. Just a silent giant waiting for its time.
As Silas passed near the black market edge, he saw recruiters in action.
A man in red robes stepped forward to a passing player.
"Hello brother, have you joined a sect yet? You should join our Burning Hall. We're a newly rising sect—great opportunities!"
Another recruiter jumped in immediately.
"We, the Strong Henchmen Sect, are top-tier! Recruiting now—100 points per month salary. You won't get this deal again. Don't think, just say yes!"
A third called out from a small floating platform.
"Caesar Court is recruiting! Our top players—already intermediate level—will train you personally. Join us and rise fast!"
They had turned the space just outside the black market into an open recruitment zone.
Anyone passing through was fair game.
They never dared do this near India Concord, restaurants, clubs, or sports fields.
Those belonged to private owners or sects who'd kick out anyone disturbing customers.
The black market had no owner.
The game developers had created both the market and the stadium to make Sunday region more lively and useful.
Similar stadiums and markets existed in other big regions too.
Everything else—sports fields, restaurants, clubs, gambling houses—was sold by the game company to private buyers.
Expensive, yes.
But profitable? Absolutely.
Those restaurants didn't just operate in the game world.
They ran real-world branches too.
Owners quickly realized the game side earned countless times more.
Daily, tens of thousands of players visited Sunday region.
Whenever they came, many headed straight to restaurants, gambling zones, or clubs to relax after their matches.
In the real world, 100 customers on a good day was success.
Here? Thousands in hours.
The profit difference was staggering.
They didn't want their customers disturbed. So they kicked out anyone daring to try recruiting near their doors.
Silas watched the recruitment scene from a distance. His eyes caught a figure moving toward him on a similar but more powerful flying boat.
The figure quickly caught up to his boat.
Silas stopped his boat when he saw the person clearly wanted to talk.
But before they could speak, Silas said calmly, "I don't want to join any sect. Don't follow me."
He restarted his boat and continued toward his destination.
The person on the boat opened their mouth—likely to stop him—but then shook their head and turned around.