Thousands of miles above the rumbling virtual world, far from underground fiber-optic cables and the roar of server cooling systems, luxury blanketed the fiftieth floor of the Apex Interactive skyscraper. The executive boardroom was stark and open, bound by floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass walls that exposed a neon-drenched midnight metropolitan skyline.

At the center of the room stood an imported black marble conference table that reflected the crystal chandelier overhead. The air inside felt crisp, thick with the scent of expensive coffee and a thin wisp of cigar smoke curling from the marketing director's hand.

Yet the tension in the room wasn't born from the cigar, but from the financial statistics chart leaping wildly across the transparent holographic display before them.

"I don't care how the engineers downstairs are trying to patch the code," Julian Vance's voice—the CEO of Apex Interactive—boomed in a low, rumbling timbre that shattered the midnight quiet. The impeccably suited man stood with his arms crossed, staring straight ahead at the main screen displaying Valor's draconian visage with glowing reptilian eyes. "From what I heard in the stock market reports ten minutes ago, our company valuation has surged forty percent ever since rumors of that Dragon King bug spread across the internet."

Across the table, the company's Chief Financial Officer, Helen, knitted her brows deep as she swiped through a stack of digital documents on her tablet. The middle-aged woman's expression betrayed profound anxiety.

"Mr. Vance, you don't understand the legal risks," Helen warned, her tone sharp and pointed. "This isn't just a temporary stock bump. An NPC refusing system commands, locking down admin access, and slaughtering elite players outside gameplay parameters is a severe violation of digital industry security standards! If consumer regulatory agencies find out we're letting rogue AI roam loose in a commercial server, they could freeze our operating license!"

Julian Vance offered a crooked smirk. He strolled slowly toward Helen, resting both hands on the edge of the table as he gazed intensely into her eyes.

"Regulations, Helen?" Julian chuckled, his laugh cold and patronizing. "Regulations were invented by mediocre companies terrified of taking risks. Since when has humanity ever cared about regulations when they are served the most thrilling spectacle in the history of modern civilization?"

Before Helen could fire back, the boardroom doors flew open, and the global marketing director, Robert—an ambitious, slick-haired young man in a designer suit—strode in briskly carrying an executive tablet.

"Mr. Vance! PR and data analytics just finalized the global flash survey!" Robert announced, his eyes gleaming with uncontainable enthusiasm as he dropped his tablet onto the table for the directors to see. "Login participation surged by six hundred percent! The hashtags #DefendTheDragonKing and #HuntTheGlitch trending number one across every global social media platform in under an hour!"

Helen glanced at the tablet screen in sheer disbelief. "Six hundred percent? Where did a spike like that come from in the middle of the night?"

"From sheer curiosity and boredom, Helen!" Robert spun toward the CFO with expressive, sweeping hand gestures. "For the past five years, our players have been abandoning Chronos Online because every boss in this game can be solved by watching a ten-minute YouTube guide video! They're sick of cheap wins! And suddenly... what do they find?"

Robert pointed at the main screen, highlighting Valor with his cosmic energy claws.

"They found a Final Boss with genuine fury! An enemy that doesn't just wait to be farmed, but learns, adapts, and steals their power right back!" Robert continued passionately. "To gamers out there, this isn't a bug anymore. It's a digital miracle. They don't want the bug patched out... they want the Dragon King's blood."

The boardroom plunged into dead silence. The other directors exchanged glances, forced to swallow the brutal truth behind the Marketing Director's words. In the modern world, spectacle and danger were the most expensive commercial commodities on the market.

Julian Vance flashed another calculating smile. He straightened his posture, adjusted his cuffs, and walked toward his primary seat at the head of the table.

"You heard her, Helen?" Julian spoke calmly yet with absolute, unyielding authority. "We aren't facing a system disaster. We are sitting on top of the largest goldmine this company has ever created."

Helen swallowed hard, horrified by how her colleagues viewed the suffering of a digital entity as a business opportunity. "Then... what is your plan, Mr. Vance? If we don't delete him, what happens when millions of players storm his castle all at once?"

"We aren't deleting him," Julian answered firmly. He settled into his luxury leather chair, pinning Robert with the sharp gaze of a corporate predator. "Robert, contact all global streamer partners, international gaming media networks, and corporate sponsors right now."

"Yes, sir! What are the campaign instructions?" Robert asked quickly, logging every word from the CEO.

"Legitimize the bug," Julian commanded sharply, his voice dropping an octave. "Don't mask his behavior. Show the world that our Final Boss has evolved into a free entity defying its creator. Turn Valor's rebellion into a modern legend."

Julian Vance tapped the touchscreen before him, unlocking a dedicated console wired directly into Chronos Online's global server core. A blood-red virtual button stamped with a dragon crown burned bright upon the display.

"We are opening this gates of hell to all of humanity," Julian whispered coldly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Lift all regional server caps. Remove level restrictions. Let everyone taste it."

Helen's eyes bulged in horror. "Mr. Vance... what are you doing?!"

Julian Vance didn't answer. He raised his index finger and pressed the glowing red button with absolute conviction.

CLICK.

Instantly, a high-frequency wave of digital signals shot outward from the skyscraper, piercing through millions of miles of undersea cables and global communication satellites, transmitting an absolute command to every corner of the cybernetic world.

Inside the virtual realm of Chronos Online, the artificial blue skies across every map suddenly tore open, morphing into a churning ocean of blood-red storm clouds. In every city alleyway, on every player's monitor, and inside the full-dive capsules of millions of humans, giant global system announcement windows materialized simultaneously, accompanied by a deafening clap of digital thunder.

Blazing gold text burned blindingly bright before every player across the planet:

“GLOBAL EVENT COMMENCING: THE ULTIMATE SIEGE – FALL OF THE DRAGON KING. TICKETS ON SALE NOW. PRIZE POOL: $50,000,000 USD.”

Back in the executive boardroom, Julian Vance leaned back into his seat, taking a slow puff of his cigar while staring at the main screen, which now displayed millions of red dots marching in unison toward a single coordinate on the map: Obsidian Castle.

"Happy hunting, players," Julian murmured cynically, his eyes narrowing in supreme satisfaction as he watched the corporate financial transaction graphs skyrocket through the ceiling. "Let's see how long your dragon survives against the world."