Signing the Contract and Becoming the Host

"No rush to leave—I'll do a draw first!"

Having been through two world missions, Russell had picked up plenty of experience. For instance, the 24-hour stay wasn't fixed; he could leave at any time during it.

Five minutes, ten minutes, an hour...

All fine.

Russell saw those 24 hours as a perk of hopping between worlds. Not too long, not too short—it depended on the world. Flexible. If he ran into an interesting world, there was plenty of room to work with.

And when it came to working, the most important thing was still the draw!

In his first two mission worlds, Russell hadn't lingered after finishing the tasks. He'd left immediately. Simple reason: the Subway Police from Delta Force and the Temple Guards who'd eat you alive were standing right there. Being around them put a lot of pressure on him.

For the draws from those two world mission rewards, Russell got 'Character Card: Bolt', 'Skill Card: English Mastery', and 'Skill Card: Jet Flame' in the Subway Surfers world, and 'Skill Card: Marathon Runner', 'Item Card: Blood Sucking Bandage', and 'Item Card: Healing Ointment' in the Temple Run world.

All those cards were drawn after leaving the mission worlds!

Now, after his third world, Russell had more draws under his belt and richer experience. He summarized the results and made some bold guesses.

First, triggering a specific person or object could let him draw related cards—character, skill, or item, random among the three.

Of course, there might be other card types, but he hadn't gotten any yet, so he wasn't sure.

Second, if he didn't draw immediately but waited until after leaving the mission world, the draw wouldn't tie to a specific person or object anymore, but it might still connect to the mission world itself.

For example, 'Skill Card: Jet Flame' might relate to a jetpack, while Healing Ointment and Blood Sucking Bandage tied to Temple Run's adventure theme. Whether that was true remained to be seen.

This drawing method had more randomness—no one knew what they'd get. It could be god-tier or trash-tier. God-tier gave him two permanent skills, English Mastery and Marathon Runner. Trash-tier... Blood Sucking Bandage.

Russell still couldn't figure out the right use for Blood Sucking Bandage. It wasn't like he could grab an enemy and wrap it around their wound—that would be brain-damaged!

Those were Russell's summarized guesses from the draw results, the ones that fit best. For now, these two guesses were close to the truth, with high probability.

Before drawing, Russell first allocated his 3 free attribute points. If this were an online game, he'd focus the points. Mages dump everything into Strength and Vitality, warriors dump into Intelligence and Spirit, assassins into Physical Defense and Magic Resistance—that's how the guides wrote it, often catching enemies off guard and confusing them.

As for the sandbag teammates who got confused too, they could be ignored—they didn't know how to play!

Games and reality were different. Russell didn't focus his points; he spread them evenly to maintain basic balance.

Being average might be wrong, but it wouldn't be a big mistake!

STR: 11 (7+4) VIT: 9 (6+3) INT: 11 (9+2) Level: 3 EXP: 150/1000 Wealth: 700

No agonizing screams—the point allocation process was smooth, neither painful nor itchy. Aside from his body feeling slightly different and needing some time to adjust, Russell didn't notice anything off. It was warm and quite comfortable.

Leveling up to LV3, Russell didn't feel much thrill. He had no idea who created this garbage system. Aside from completing main missions to earn EXP and wealth, nothing else gave rewards.

No side quests, no kill rewards, no incentive for more work meaning more pay. The result? The host turned into a lazy salted fish with no drive.

Russell had gone through three worlds just to hit LV3. The EXP needed for LV4 was more than the first three combined. Going further, the EXP required would only increase.

Normally, newbies leveled up fast, especially from 1 to 10—it should've been rocket-speed leveling. But this system was painfully slow.

Very unreasonable!

Russell set aside his doubts and started the draw. He'd completed three world missions; ending the world process would make him a true host. Any questions could be answered by the system then.

Based on his summarized guesses, Russell activated the draw chances contributed by Sloan and the Loom of Fate. He decided to leave the draws from the Butcher and the Repairman for after leaving this world.

Simple reason: those two probably wouldn't yield anything good. Drawing from them would be a waste.

Russell didn't know much about the Repairman, except that he was good at beating people up. Same for the Butcher. Rather than drawing something like 'Pig-Slaughtering Knife Technique', it was better to save the chance and take a gamble.

The drawing process was casual—no big wheel, no 3x3 grid, no tarot cards. Russell confirmed the draw, and the interface automatically popped out a card. Simple, not even a cheap special effect!

Character Card: Sloan (Back in the day, I was pretty strong too) Item Card: Ring of the Goddess of Fortune (A holy relic that increases luck when worn, but don't try it if you're Luck E—you're hopeless, just give up) Skill Card: Loom of Fate (Weaving fate, weaving destiny, weaving a future that belongs to you)

As always, they matched the person and object that triggered the draw. There was also a character card, Russell's favorite type. The only downside was the short use duration—if it could be permanent, that'd be perfect.

"Russell, how's it going over there? Did you take out Sloan?" Cross's voice came through the micro-earpiece.

Russell pulled the earpiece out and dropped it on the ground. Sloan had said that when he left the weaving factory, Cross would snipe him. That was pure provocation, but hearts were separated by bellies—Russell didn't think his charisma could win Cross over. To protect his son's secret, killing him was perfectly normal.

He had 24 hours, but Russell decided not to stay. He muttered, "System, end the world process. Leave here."

No chime. The system carried out Russell's command without hesitation. His vision went dark, and when he opened his eyes again, he was back in his apartment room.

The killer group chat had already hit 99+ messages, but the computer hadn't gone to sleep or black-screened. That meant the time he'd spent in the mission world didn't match the flow of time in the main world.

Russell remembered the sleep timer on this computer—10 minutes, set by him personally.

"Not even 10 minutes..." As he spoke, Russell felt something digging into his lower back. He raised an eyebrow and let out a silent laugh.

Just then, Russell's vision went dark again. Having completed three world missions, his internship was over, and he was about to be promoted to a full-fledged host.

This was a grand hall, surrounded by a ring of torches. By the firelight, he could make out thick stone pillars; further beyond lay darkness with no end in sight.

The computer desk and chair had been replaced with a stone table and stone seat—cold and hard. The pressure against his lower back was gone, so Russell stopped thinking about it and focused on the long stone table before him.

It resembled an elongated conference table or a Western dining table—very long, very narrow. The surface was carved with totem-like patterns and indecipherable script. There were no chairs on either side. Directly across from Russell, a shimmering curtain of light began to tremble faintly.

A face-like outline emerged, blurry and indistinct, with only the rough shapes of eyes, nose, and mouth visible. Reading the other party's thoughts through that face was basically impossible.

"Lucky one, you have successfully completed three world missions and earned the right to sign a contract with me, becoming a true host!"

The mouth on the blurry outline opened and closed. The voice wasn't a cold electronic tone, but one with cadence and a hint of weariness.

"Great!"

Failure Diary

A failure never worries about dropping chapters or losing followers, because there are none to begin with.