Artyom stared at the floating interface hovering over a dead goblin. Instead of gold coins, the creature had dropped a shimmering, translucent shard labeled .
He moved deeper into the corridor. In this world, mana wasn't a gift; it was a currency you mined with your own heartbeat. To cast a fireball, you had to burn a portion of your portfolio. To heal, you needed to verify a transaction on the local chain. Artyom stared at the floating interface hovering over
"Still haven't found the block?" a voice crackled in his earpiece. It was his handler from the Flibusta syndicate, an underground group of 'data-miners' who treated the literal dungeon like a giant server farm. the creature had dropped a shimmering