Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge

While Ryan was basking in triumph, a very different atmosphere had taken hold elsewhere—one of sheer panic.

"Damn it! What the hell is going on? Why are there so many tech advancements all of a sudden?"

The speaker was an old man with a snow-white beard, his voice thundering through a stark, sterile conference room. His face was grim, and the oppressive tension in the air made the dozens seated around the long table sit up straighter, their hearts beating faster.

"We're still investigating," a young man in a white lab coat replied calmly, adjusting his glasses with practiced precision. "But Prometheus transmitted sixteen separate tech advancements. And, for the record, these aren't the corrupted fakes we've received in the past. They've all been verified as genuine."

"I know tech advancements are good news," the old man snapped, his tone softer now but no less intense. "But don't you realize what this might mean? Prometheus only distributes advancements when someone completes an impossible task. And now, sixteen? All at once? What if something went wrong? What if Prometheus made an error in judgment? If that system fails, humanity's entire future could collapse."

"Director, with all due respect, I disagree," a young woman stood up, her voice clear and resolute. "These sixteen breakthroughs could trigger the leap we've been waiting for. We might even be able to complete Phase One."

The Director shook his head, his expression troubled. There were things he couldn't explain—things these researchers didn't have the clearance to know. All he could do was wait for the official team that had been in direct communication with Prometheus to return with more answers.

Silence settled over the room like a weighted blanket. The buzz of whispered speculation had died down. Everyone waited. Minutes dragged on.

Then—footsteps. Fast and purposeful, echoing in the hallway beyond the closed door.

Every head in the room turned as the door flew open. Another elderly man stepped in, his own snow-white beard contrasting with the bright smile lighting up his face. He waved a thick folder in the air.

"Director! We've got confirmation from Prometheus!"

The room stirred. People leaned forward in their seats.

The old man approached the table, laying down the documents. "According to Prometheus, someone has completed three impossible tasks. For each one, we received three tech advancements as a reward."

The Director's eyes widened. "That explains nine... but what about the other seven?"

"Those came from a fourth task," the man said, frowning slightly now as he flipped through the papers. "It wasn't just classified as 'impossible.' It was labeled absolutely impossible."

The Director's brow furrowed. "Wait. I thought the rule was: complete one impossible task, get advancement. When did we start assigning categories like absolutely impossible?"

The old man gave a slight nod. "Prometheus had mentioned it before. An 'impossible' task is something no ordinary human could pull off—but a genius might. When someone like that succeeds, it proves humanity deserves to evolve. Hence, the reward."

"And an absolutely impossible task?" the Director pressed.

"That's something that defies all logic," the man said, his voice low now. "Something that, under any known reasoning, should not be possible to complete. But it was."

He didn't say it outright, but everyone in the room picked up on the unspoken implication: if an absolutely impossible task could be completed... then something beyond conventional understanding was at play.

Still, there was one thing they could all agree on—Prometheus was stable. The game's central intelligence system, orbiting far above Earth, hadn't malfunctioned. It was still functioning perfectly.

Back inside the game world, however, the one who had defied logic—who had completed the impossible, and then gone beyond that—was currently under siege.

Ryan, the player behind those miraculous feats, was being absolutely bombarded by his own guildmates.

"Raid the rich! Redistribute the loot!"

This wasn't the cry of revolution—it was the gleeful warcry of a certain battle-crazed woman in Ryan's guild.

"Guild Leader, you scored so many great drops... shouldn't you throw some gold our way to soothe our wounded, envious souls?" added a sly female hunter, her tone half-joking, half-dead serious.

Then came the final betrayal.

"No handouts, no lunch for you, brother."

That one hit home. It came from his own sister—openly turning on him in front of the entire guild.

It had all started off on a good note. When Ryan first revealed his Epic-tier loot, everyone was ecstatic. The congratulations came pouring in. Then came the Rare items, and the mood shifted—hype was building. But when he finally showed off his new title reward, the crowd went feral.

The guild members transformed instantly from supportive allies into a mob of loot-hungry brigands.

Ryan, however, took it all in stride. With a wide grin, he laughed and casually announced that every member would receive a 30 Gold dividend, along with a trove of special items he'd personally prepared.

The storm of complaints ended in a heartbeat.

They'd been loud, yes—but more out of excitement and playful jealousy than real demands. Once they saw Ryan sharing the spoils, their mood flipped right back to celebratory.

These people weren't random strangers from the game's forums. They were handpicked—chosen carefully by Ryan based on everything he remembered from his previous life. He knew their character, their potential, and most importantly, that they were the kind of players who stuck with their guild through thick and thin.

At first, Flowing Light Guild had barely over twenty members. Now they were up to forty.

By comparison, it looked laughable.

Sky Dragon Family, the biggest guild so far, had already ballooned to over 200,000 members just days after launch. Other major guilds were surging past 100,000 without breaking a sweat. From the outside, Flowing Light looked like an underdog barely crawling forward.

But inside the guild, no one cared.

The members weren't here for numbers. They were united by something stronger—loyalty, trust, and the feeling that this guild was building toward something bigger. In larger guilds, players struggled just to be noticed. In Flowing Light, everyone was seen. Everyone mattered. If someone needed help, they got it—no questions asked.

Ryan knew. He believed—when the first true raid dungeon dropped, the world wouldn't be laughing at Flowing Light anymore. They'd be watching.

And when that moment came, they'd understand what he had built.

Since day one, Ryan had made it a point to foster that spirit of unity—always emphasizing friendship, mutual growth, and shared glory. Slowly but surely, those ideals had taken root. Now, the guild was truly on track.

It wasn't just growing—it was evolving.

Flowing Light didn't need hundreds of players. It needed the right ones. That elite-first policy meant their numbers stayed low, but their combat power? Far beyond what most elite squads in the massive guilds could offer.

As for those "special items" Ryan gave out—they were more valuable than they looked. Rings and necklaces crafted through Jewelcrafting, a life skill most players hadn't even started leveling. In the early stages of the game, accessories like that were incredibly rare. But Ryan's were better than anything on the market—stat-boosting, high-quality gear no one else could craft yet.

And that was just the start.

He also handed out Engineering tools—combat gadgets that didn't require Engineering skill to use. Throw in a healthy supply of custom potions and elixirs, and suddenly, every member of Flowing Light became a walking powerhouse.

After distributing everything according to the guild's roster, Ryan finally sent a message in the guild chat:

"I'm opening up the Level 20 dungeon—Deep Corrupted Forest. Anyone who's interested can try it out or just explore a bit. If dungeons aren't your thing and you're heading into contested zones to grind, just be careful. Things are heating up out there."

His message was calm, but there was an undercurrent of excitement—and everyone could feel it.

Flowing Light Guild was no longer just a footnote in the game.

They were ready to make history.