Ging knew that the outcome was inevitable, and Oboro understood that perfectly. When something piqued the man's interest, even the presence of risk wouldn't deter him.
Following the NPC's instructions, Ging carefully examined the registration interface before entering the game. His attention was particularly drawn to the Player Agreement, a document written in such fine print that none of the previous Nen-using gangsters had bothered to notice it.
"You are," Ging studied the contents of the agreement. Though the language was deliberately euphemistic and deceptive, he could taste the hidden meaning beneath the flowery words: exploitation. Raw, unadulterated exploitation. This arrangement was probably the most crucial element of the entire game and Oboro's true purpose.
Why did players have to provide "energy" and essentially "sell their lives" in disguise? Ging's Greed Island was fundamentally about exploration and collection, with special cards adding depth to the experience. But Hero Island struck Ging as nothing more than Oboro's tool.
"Like I said, if you want something, you always have to pay a price. There is no free lunch in this world." Oboro stood beside him, his hands in his pockets, his voice carrying a calm certainty. It wasn't shamelessness, just hard reality.
Ging smiled. Human desires were indeed boundless. Once you'd tasted the sweetness of the game's rewards, you inevitably craved more. This weakness in human nature was exactly what Oboro wanted to exploit.
"Are you going to open this up to everyone?" Ging asked, studying Oboro.
"Yes." Oboro nodded.
Ging understood the implications. While Greed Island required expensive, limited gaming equipment, making entry increasingly difficult over time, Hero Island was different. To "make a lot of money," Oboro needed to harvest countless players. Ging had no doubt about Oboro's ability to promote Hero Island everywhere; the gang's influence and reach throughout society provided marketing channels that private game developers like the Greed Island team could never match.
This would completely change the dynamic between Hero Island and Greed Island. Hero Island's development could easily become another "Sky Arena.
Under Oboro's watchful gaze, Ging quickly registered and selected his ID: Gold. The choice of name signified his agreement to Oboro's deal: he'd been given the right to play, and would help identify the game's weaknesses during the internal testing period.
Standing on the transport platform, Ging looked directly at Oboro. "You're not coming in?"
"I can't. Experience it yourself." Oboro replied.
"Fine." Ging nodded slightly before the teleportation took him away.
"Sir, are you all right?" After Ging's departure, Mondel approached cautiously. As the captain of the Fells Family Guard and a senior member of the family, years of growing strength had broadened Mondel's perspective. He realized that this Ging person was probably extraordinary - he'd overheard their conversation about improving the game structure, which demonstrated the man's expertise.
The problem was that Hero Island had always been Oboro's exclusive creation, built with great effort and carefully trained personnel. The game management and the NPCs were all their own people. Now an outsider was suddenly involved.
"He's just a player with no special privileges," Oboro explained casually, leaving the hall to await Ging's return. "His role is merely to advise on improvements. Besides, someone like him won't try to exploit or create loopholes. He just wants to experience the game or maybe understand me through it."
"Understood." Mondel retreated, asking no further questions.
He must have realized it himself," Oboro thought. He hadn't bothered to hide the financial aspects, believing that Ging had already observed them. Hero Island was just a tool. Once Oboro opened it to the world, endless players would flock to it, keeping the servers perpetually full. Limited space meant new players would have to wait in line, and the Fells family controlled the "tickets" to Hero Island.
The family could use their private influence over this system. Ticket prices would skyrocket, generating massive profits for the Fells family.
Even as one of the Ten Dons, the Fells family's finances weren't as robust as in their early days, despite years of growing influence and manpower. Their largest expenses came from cultivating political talent in various nations, paving their way with bribes and connections. Beyond their basic gang operations, they needed additional revenue streams.
The consequences of fully opening up the game were obvious. The diverse backgrounds of the attracted Nen users would draw considerable attention. If the Fells couldn't maintain order on the island, problems would inevitably arise. However, immediate problems seemed unlikely once the game started, with the gang's power spread across six continents and the human world far exceeding that of the Sky Arena.
Normal operations would continue with minimal variables.
Oboro's true purpose was to quickly harvest large numbers of players to provide "nutrients" to the game world. This would allow for better "offline autonomous operation" in the future. His current Nen ability was game-dependent, a significant weakness. If Hero Island was destroyed, he would be affected, which explained why one of his summoning abilities was teleportation.
He needed to ensure the safety of Hero Island for a certain period of time.
For Oboro, creating this game in the real world served as a tool, a sacrifice, to transform his Nen ability. The game's treasure trove of endless dreamers had three essential functions: replacement, stripping, and most importantly, going offline, breaking free from the main game.
This was the hidden meaning of the "Player Agreement", which harvested the energy of every Nen user as payment for their participation.
The stability, completeness, and strength of the current game couldn't do this yet. But as more players were harvested, the offline process would speed up. Ging's arrival and help served as a catalyst. This man proved to be very useful to Oboro.
Once the offline process was complete, Oboro would no longer have to worry about Hero Island. Its destruction would become irrelevant; the game would exist purely as a Fells family enterprise.
At this point, even if Ging had ulterior motives or tampered with the game, Oboro was unconcerned as long as the "Player Agreement" remained intact.
The agreement was all that mattered.