The Second Life of Adam Cosmos

As the player base wonders who is the mysterious #1 Ranked Player, the subject of the world’s growing speculation, Adam, remains blissfully unaware of the recent developments surrounding him. While guilds and top players scrambled to figure out his identity and catch up to his meteoric rise, Adam was doing something far more mundane—eating a meal. The food he was consuming had come from the Cosmos Residence, a simple meal that had somehow turned from dinner into breakfast.

To Adam, the dinner felt like it had happened days ago, yet in reality, it had only been the night before. Eight hours had passed in real-time since he had logged out of World of Pangea. Now, as dawn approached, what was supposed to be a lavish dinner had become a cold, leftover breakfast. He finished it in less than five minutes, an efficiency born of his experience as an apocalypse survivor. In a world where survival had been a constant battle, eating fast was second nature to him. Every second counted.

With about 25 minutes left before he could log back into the game, Adam decided to step outside for some fresh air. He grabbed a cigarette, an old habit from his previous life. It was something he had picked up during his med school years, a brief vice that he had left behind when he quit school and immersed himself in the world of Pangea. But when the apocalypse came, smoking became a crutch once again—a habit to soothe the chaos that defined his existence in a crumbling world. After his regression, it had come back as naturally as breathing.

Standing outside, cigarette in hand, Adam took in the early morning air. The sharp, familiar burn of the smoke filled his lungs as he stared blankly into the distance. His mind, however, was far from blank. Ever since the moment of his regression, the same unanswerable questions kept swirling in his head. What now? What was he supposed to do? So many things had happened—yet, in truth, none of it had actually occurred yet.

The apocalypse was still in the future. Should he warn his family? Should he tell the world about the impending disaster?

The answer, to him, was yes—eventually. He would tell the world. But not now. Not yet.

If he tried to warn anyone now, they would either ignore him, dismiss him as an attention-seeker, or worse, label him a madman. The world wasn’t ready to hear about what was coming. And even if people did believe him, what good would it do at this point? The systems in place wouldn’t change. Governments and corporations would all continue with their business as usual. His warning would change nothing.

There was another complication. If people took him seriously and linked the apocalypse to the World of Pangea, it could lead to the game being shut down prematurely. And if that happened, what would the world do if the apocalypse still came anyway? They’d lose their only chance to prepare. The game, for all its dangers, was also the key to survival.

But there was something deeper inside Adam beyond the logic of timing and preparation. Something he couldn’t deny. A selfish desire that he had quickly embraced once he returned to the past. After experiencing the horrors of the future, he realized that, in this brief moment of peace, he wanted to live the life he had dreamed of before everything fell apart. He wanted to be a professional gamer, to be successful, to taste the victory that he had once longed for.

Was it selfish? Perhaps. But wasn’t it also understandable? After everything he had endured, was it so wrong to want a small piece of the life he had lost?

Adam knew that, eventually, he would do what needed to be done. He would take action to prepare the world for the apocalypse. But for now, he was content being Adam, the aspiring pro player. He wasn’t ready to be humanity’s savior just yet. The world would have to wait a little longer for him to enter that role.

As he took another drag from his cigarette, the sun rose. The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, and the early morning chill clung to the air. Before he knew it, the thirty minutes had passed, and he was ready to log back into Pangea. The gaming capsule beeped softly, signaling that its internal systems had confirmed Adam had received adequate sustenance. Everything was primed for his return.

But before he dove back into the world of Pangea, Adam made a quick stop at Dreamwave Net. It was a move he had planned in advance, something that had become routine for him ever since he regressed. He wasn’t just gaming for fun anymore—every move was calculated, every decision made with purpose. The world’s eyes might soon turn toward him, but Adam was playing his own game.

***

Dreamwave Net was no ordinary internet. Often referred to as "Internet 2.0," it revolutionized how users interacted with the online world, allowing them to access websites and online platforms as if they were physically visiting locations in a fully immersive virtual reality environment. For World of Pangea players, Dreamwave had an additional layer of exclusivity—a server called the Mercury Auction Palace. This space was where players could sell their hard-earned loot from the game, allowing them to turn virtual riches into real-world or in-game currency.

Unlike most games that offered conveniences like inventories or instant messaging between players, Pangea was designed with more grounded realism. Despite the lack of conventional features, the game developers saw the need for a dedicated marketplace outside of the game, where players could buy, sell, and even trade their loot. The Mercury Auction Palace fulfilled that role. Players could set prices, accept bids, and even use essence as currency, which added an extra layer of strategic depth.

Adam knew that anonymity was a standard feature of the auction house. Players’ identities and transaction histories were kept confidential unless they chose otherwise. This was a significant advantage for those who didn’t want to reveal their wealth or strategy to competitors. But Adam had different plans.

Upon arriving at the Mercury Auction House, he was greeted by a receptionist standing behind an elegant marble counter. “Good morning, sir. How may I assist you today?” The virtual receptionist flashed a warm, professionally rehearsed smile, and though her avatar was perfectly crafted, Adam could tell this was a real person behind the role.

Virtual reality has become a new frontier for employment, just like professional gaming. Working at VR establishments like this one was a full-time job for some people, and judging by her mannerisms, this receptionist was no different. Adam responded with equal politeness. “Good morning. I want to sell some items I’ve acquired.”

The receptionist’s smile didn’t waver. “Of course, sir. Your pod will synchronize the items you have in your possession, allowing you to freely choose what you’d like to sell.” Her tone was smooth, almost automated in its delivery. Adam couldn’t help but internally smirk—definitely a human working off a script.

She continued, “To buy and sell, you must set up an account with the Mercury Auction House. If you don’t have one, we can register you for a bronze-level membership. Higher membership tiers are also available should you wish to access more features. These come with a registration fee.”

Adam already knew the details. The auction house had several membership tiers, each offering different benefits. Bronze was the lowest, with a limited number of items allowed for sale and a rather steep commission of 17%. Higher-tier memberships, such as silver, gold, and platinum, allowed for more transactions with reduced fees, but they also came with periodic subscription costs. For now, bronze would suffice.

“Bronze-level membership is fine,” Adam replied smoothly. “Also, I’d like my account to be publicly named My Alchemical Romance. Is that username available?”

Though it felt odd to say such a cheesy name out loud, Adam had reasons for it. The username would serve as his public identity when buying and selling items. While some players chose to remain anonymous for additional fees, professional guilds often flaunted their public names to build a recognizable brand. Adam, however, was doing it purely for the practicality of selling without extra costs.

The receptionist, undeterred by the eccentricity of the name, checked the availability and smiled brightly. “Yes, sir, My Alchemical Romance is available. Your account is now registered under that name. It seems you’re already familiar with our process, Mr. My Alchemical Romance. Very efficient.”

It was a small miracle that she could say that name twice without breaking into laughter. Adam himself cringed internally but quickly moved on. A notification appeared in his vision.

[Mercury Auction House: Your Mercury Auction House membership has been registered.]

[Mercury Auction House: You can buy or sell up to 12 weekly items. To increase your transaction limit, please upgrade your membership status. This can be done at any time.]

The Mercury Auction House had its appeal—it was universal, allowing any player to sell their loot, and it provided the flexibility of using either real-world currency or in-game funds. But Adam wasn’t interested in browsing through other players’ listings. His focus was on offloading his excess loot quickly before he went back to business.

Adam began the process of approaching a bronze-grade transaction totem. With a limit of 12 items, he had to choose carefully. The system automatically synchronized his inventory, and Adam selected 9 armor sets, knowing they would be highly sought after by lower-level players struggling to survive Pangea’s unforgiving early stages. He still had three more item slots, and for those, he opted to sell one of each elixir he had picked up in the hidden room.

When he entered the details, the auction system appraised each item, determining quality and market value. This step was essential to prevent fraudulent listings and ensure that players got what they paid for. After the appraisal, Adam set the starting price for the armor sets at $1,500 each. The elixirs, more valuable, started at $2,000 each. While some might consider this low, Adam had a good reason for keeping the starting bids modest—the value of low- to mid-level gear would plummet as players leveled up and found better equipment.

A system prompt appeared next.

[Mercury Auction House: Would you like to sell the items anonymously? There will be an additional 5% commission fee.]

Adam grumbled internally. The base commission was already 17%, and adding another 5% was highway robbery. “No, sell it publicly.”

[Mercury Auction House: Please state your preferred currency: in-game or real world.]

“Real world,” Adam replied. He needed to build his real-world funds, not just his in-game wealth.

[Mercury Auction House: What auction mode would you like to use? 24-Hours or Live?]

Live auctions required players to sit through the bidding process in real time, something Adam had no interest in. He had more important things to do—like fighting a boss.

“24-hour Auction,” he confirmed.

Within seconds, the items were listed, and almost immediately, notifications of bids started to come in from players eager to snag his gear. But Adam didn’t bother checking them. He had no intention of getting caught up in the auction frenzy—he had more pressing matters waiting for him back in Pangea.

Satisfied with the transaction, Adam left the auction house, his mind already returning to the game. With a boss fight looming, he needed to return before someone else stumbled upon the room he intended to raid.

And with that, he logged back into Pangea.

While Adam remained indifferent to the auction house's bustling activity, the same couldn’t be said for the agents stationed there on behalf of various professional guilds and wealthy individuals. These players were seasoned veterans in the competitive online gaming world, tasked specifically with monitoring the auction house for rare and valuable items. The moment Adam’s listings went live, it triggered a ripple of excitement across the marketplace.

The armor sets, while not legendary, attracted a respectable amount of interest. They were solid mid-tier gear for early-level players, and many guilds saw them as crucial upgrades for their newer recruits. The bids were already climbing, with some sets looking like they would sell for double, if not more, the starting price.

But it wasn’t the armor that had the auction house buzzing—it was the elixirs.

"Stat-boosting potions this early in the game?!" one guild agent exclaimed, his eyes widening as he quickly calculated the potential impact. "We have to get these. They'll give us a huge lead in PvP and raiding. Contact the manager now!"

The guildhouses had strict bidding limits for their agents, but such situations allowed for quick exceptions. When someone realized the elixirs were permanent stat-boosters, it became clear that whoever acquired them would have a long-term advantage over their competition.

“Tell the manager we need authorization for at least four times the minimum bid!” one of the agents barked into his comms. “We can't lose this to another guild.”

Another agent, representing a rival guild, was frantically trying to figure out how much they could spend without raising suspicion from their rivals. “These potions are priceless at this stage. If we don’t act fast, the Flora Guild will snatch them up.”

“Flora? They’re bidding too?”

Another buyer’s voice crackled over the shared chat channel, laced with frustration. “$2,000 starting price for this? The seller is either completely clueless or they’re trying to flood the market on purpose to stir up competition.”

The bidding for the elixirs quickly spiraled into a small-scale war. Players who were used to bidding on high-end items knew the importance of acting swiftly, and many were shocked that the initial price had been set so low.

“The seller must be new or out of their mind,” muttered one player who had been monitoring the listings. “These should be going for at least $10,000, minimum. And with how serious these guilds are about gaining an edge, they could easily fetch even more.”

As the bids climbed higher and higher, guild agents started sending private messages to the mysterious seller, My Alchemical Romance. Some were polite inquiries, while others were aggressive, demanding to know if the seller had more items or if they were willing to make a private deal off the auction house. They hoped to get exclusive access to the goods before the prices escalated even further.

“Contact them! Maybe we can strike a deal before the bidding goes any higher!”

“Whoever this My Alchemical Romance is, they’re about to make a fortune. If they have more of these, we need to lock them down.”

Yet, no matter how many messages they sent, there was no reply. Unbeknownst to them, Adam was already back in Pangea, completely oblivious to the frenzy his items were causing. He wasn’t concerned about squeezing every last penny out of his sales. He had far more pressing matters ahead of him, like taking on a boss in the Catacombs.

Meanwhile, the players and guilds in the auction house continued their bidding war, their desperation growing as they realized the immense value of the elixirs. As the price continued to rise, some wondered who would end up victorious in the battle for the stat-boosting potions—and, more importantly, who exactly was behind the name My Alchemical Romance.

Little did they know, Adam had much bigger plans than profiting off a few armor sets.

***

Adam, completely unaware of the chaos he had sparked with his auction listings and the flood of private offers filling his inbox, logged back into Pangea without a second thought.

[Dreamwave Capsule initiating systems.]

[Initiating life-support system… 1%]

[Initiating language translation systems…1%]

[Initiating trauma regulator…1%]

[Synchronization: Ready]

[Welcome back, Adam.]

In a few moments, the familiar sights and sounds of the catacombs greeted him once more. The dim, eerie glow of the ancient temple was a stark contrast to the buzzing chaos he'd left behind in the Mercury Auction House.

After briefly checking his surroundings, Adam pulled up his system notifications. The first one that caught his eye was the unlocked leaderboard.

“Huh? The rankings changed quite a lot this time.”

While Adam expected the leaderboard to be unlocked by now, the shift in the top spots was intriguing. He remembered Maxima Guild completely dominating the early stages, with Tyler holding firm at the top, leading at level 17. Now, though, Tyler had slipped down to second place, trailing behind Adam at level 14. In fact, Maxima, which had once monopolized the top 100, now only had 25 members holding onto their spots.

“Seems like many independent players are here this time around. I guess me harvesting all the good loot weakened Maxima’s power.” Adam smirked, realizing that his actions—clearing out valuable items from the hidden room and auctioning off key gear—had destabilized Maxima’s early-game dominance.

As he scanned the leaderboard, about 40% of the names were unfamiliar to him. While Maxima still maintained a strong presence, many professional gamers and independent players joined the ranks. In his first life, the guild had completely stifled competition during the early stages of the game, but it was clear now that his interference had disrupted the original timeline.

Still, his own place at the top didn’t surprise him. If anything, it was expected. Adam had planned this meticulously—his experience, preparation, and resourcefulness had all but ensured his rapid ascent. His only regret was that he couldn't yet hide his rank from the leaderboard. That option wouldn’t be available until after all three main servers completed the first quest.

He pushed the thought aside. While it was interesting to see how his presence had altered the ranking, the real task was still ahead of him. It was time to face the boss.

Standing just before the massive gates that signaled the entrance to the boss room, Adam knew this was one of the most important steps in his plan. He had been preparing for this fight since the moment he logged into Pangea again. The boss lurking behind those doors was no ordinary monster, and taking it down would give him a significant boost in both levels and resources.

He briefly double-checked his gear and prepared himself mentally for the battle. His inventory was filled with fire grenades, potions, and the best equipment he could muster from his hours of looting. His Firebolt spell was upgraded, and with his Ignition Gloves now at level 4, his pyromancy was as strong as it could be at this stage.

Once his preparations were complete, Adam steadied himself, placing his hand on the ancient stone door that sealed off the boss's lair.

A faint tremor ran through the stone, and a distant rumbling could be heard as the heavy door began to shift and creak open. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling as the weight of the ancient mechanisms groaned in protest. Darkness loomed on the other side, an oppressive weight that hinted at the power lurking within.

Adam’s pulse quickened, but his hands were steady. He was ready for whatever lay ahead.

The door opened just wide enough for him to slip inside, and with a final push, he entered the boss's chamber.

His next challenge awaited.