Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons

"My recommendation," Arthur began, "is minimal restrictions. Cast the net wide, evaluate afterwards."

Oliver's scarred face darkened immediately. "Bad strategy. Open recruitment means enemy infiltration."

Gates nodded in agreement. "Military operatives, spies, hostile elements from other guilds—they'll exploit any weakness."

That would be a reasonable concern...if I didn't have full control over who enters the guild.

Arthur's smile held secrets. "They can try."

The confidence in his voice made both men pause. Gates leaned forward, his instincts sensing the hidden message behind Arthur's tone.

"Can you explain?"

Arthur gestured toward the sealed entrance. "Notice how the doors responded to your arrival?"

"How you were permitted entry whilst others were denied?"

"The building itself evaluates intent," Arthur continued. "Those with genuine interest in guild membership can enter. Those with malicious purposes cannot."

Oliver's eyebrow raised.

He had never heard of such a mechanism. But everything was possible in a world like Armageddon.

Sensing their interest, Arthur explained.

"It's one of many perks for being the first system-recognised guild."

Gates and Oliver exchanged meaningful glances.

"If the building screens automatically," Gates said slowly, "then recruitment becomes significantly simpler."

Arthur stood, moving toward the central staircase.

"Let me show you the place."

...

Back in the reception hall, Arthur outlined the membership structure.

"Everyone starts as Guild Recruit," he explained.

"The recruits will have basic access over quests, and no-said privileges. It's an evaluation period."

"What are the requirements to advance?" Gates asked.

"They are quite simple." Arthur continued.

"Five completed quests promote them to Guild Member. That's when the real benefits begin—experience bonuses, skill sharing, resource access."

"It's a privilege system that builds investment through achievement."

"Beyond that?" Gates asked.

Arthur's smile widened. "Guild Elite status. Achieved through higher rank quest completion. Elite members join the leaderboard system."

Arthur pointed at the wall where the guild ranking board was, although it had no names currently.

"Leaderboard participation means monthly rewards. The rewards will start at rare items and reach Very-Rare."

Gates and others' eyes widened.

Rare and Very-rare items were not something that anyone could get. Even in the city, it was difficult to get these items as they required a certain number of reputation points.

Motivation through hierarchy. Basic human psychology. Gates thought.

As a billionaire, Gates knew a lot about human psychology. After all, he wouldn't have been able to build an empire without understanding the consumers who consumed his products.

Oliver stroked his greying beard.

"That's pretty good."

Gates replied simply.

"People understand ladders. They climb instinctively."

Archie had been studying the guild floor during their discussion. "The quest generation system is remarkable. Daily missions in a variety. Just like the platinum guild i visited a few days ago."

"Ten percent of all quest rewards flow to guild storage," Arthur added. "Compounds rapidly with large membership."

Gates rubbed his chin.

"That's a sustainable funding model. The growth finances further growth."

Arthur moved toward the sealed entrance, satisfied with their understanding.

"Ready to begin?" he asked his companions.

Oliver cracked his knuckles. "Let's see what kind of recruits we attract."

Archie's eyes gleamed with a genius's curiosity. "I'm interested in evaluating their potential."

Arthur approached the massive doors, hand resting on cool marble.

Time to build an army.

The countdown pulsed steadily in his peripheral vision.

Only hours were left until the merge occurred, and then...reality will change.

...

The doors swung open like floodgates, releasing a dam.

People surged forward in a desperate wave, rational thought abandoned in favour of primal fear of missing out.

The crowd compressed against itself, bodies pressed together as hundreds tried to squeeze through the entrance simultaneously.

"Move! Get out of the way!"

"I was here first!"

"They'll close registration soon!"

Panic. Beautiful, predictable panic.

Arthur watched the chaos.

The terror of missing out, of being left behind when the world transformed—it made them forget dignity, forget patience, forget everything except the desperate need to claim their place inside these marble walls.

A Level 13 warrior shouldered past an elderly mage, nearly knocking the man to the ground. "Sorry, old timer! First come, first served!"

Behind him, three rogues worked together to cut through the crowd, using stealth abilities to walk past other players.

"Hey!" A female archer pointed at the line-cutters. "You can't just—"

Her protest died as one of the rogue's eyes landed in her direction.

Threats already? In my guild hall?

Arthur's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered behind Azarel's borrowed features. The building's screening system had allowed these players entry—which meant their intentions toward the guild remained genuine, despite their methods.

The screening works perfectly, it's from the system after all. They're not enemies, just assholes.

The distinction mattered. These weren't infiltrators or saboteurs trying to destroy Power Guild from within. They were simply desperate players willing to fight for position, to secure their spot before opportunity vanished.

Desperation breeds poor choices. But poor choices can be corrected.

Arthur ordered Formicia to take action with a subtle gesture.

Formicia shifted beside him, mandibles clicking in what might have been amusement or hunger. The spider queen's eight eyes tracked the developing conflicts with predatory focus.

Time for a demonstration. Behave or face consequences.

Formicia began moving toward the worst disturbance. Her crystalline legs carried her with flowing grace that drew every nearby eye. Players instinctively stepped aside, creating a natural path through the crowded hall.

The Level 13 warrior who'd pushed the elderly mage was now arguing with a group of defenders. Voices raised, hands reaching for weapons—violence brewing like a thunderstorm.

Formicia arrived like a nightmare given form.

She didn't speak. Didn't threaten. Simply positioned herself directly in front of the warrior, eight eyes reflecting his pale face back at him in perfect, terrifying detail.

The argument died instantly.

Fear. The ultimate motivator.

"I... I was just..." the warrior stammered, stepping backward.

Formicia's mandibles clicked once. The sound echoed like breaking bones—perhaps a preview of their future if they didn't reconsider their behavior.

The warrior rejoined the back of the line without another word.

Lesson learned. Order restored.

Near the entrance, the three coordinating rogues had pushed their advantage too far. One grabbed a young healer's arm, trying to force her aside.

"Move, kid. Adults are talking."