After the first 24 hours, we summed up the interim results of Black Friday: more than five hundred ships had been destroyed, including four astral naves and twenty galleons. The kill rating showed one hundred and thirteen thousand kills, thanks to the repeated deaths of NAVY raiders. The most expensive target was an astral nave and its cargo worth five and a half million; the owner announced his departure from the game. The combined value of all lost and destroyed items approximated a hundred million gold. That broke all kinds of records: no other battle had ever taken so many lives and so much money.
On average, Bazaar prices rose by 20% and then froze. The market was still kicking, as thousands of scalpers and auction representatives kept working inside the defended towers, but they didn’t have long. The administration didn’t react.
That was only the beginning. On the second day, the Americans didn’t leave. They were still there on the third one. Their combat teams continued blocking the Bazaar off, taking down all transport ships and caravans that risked crossing its borders. Whining, complaints, threats, KOS lists of the aggrieved alliances — nothing could stop Black Friday. All trade and movement were paralyzed; delivering goods to and from the Bazaar was impossible. The unprecedented curfew continued.
All trade on the largest market halted. The prices started falling. It was the murky moment when nobody could predict how long everything would go on and how it would end. The administration fueled the flames by finally posting an announcement. Everything happening fell within the scope of the User Agreement and didn’t violate game mechanics. There would be no compensations or punishment. It was fine: knock yourself out and fight. Rumors said that the astronomical losses were profitable to Sphere’s administration and the Golden Hamster: players would have to buy a lot of currency to compensate for them.
All of this caused the prices to landslide. New lots appeared on the auctions in unheard-of numbers. Their owners tried getting rid of the stuff that could get locked up in inaccessible warehouses. The scalpers’ moment of glory had come, as some articles dropped by ninety percent or more. Those traders who had access to our grapevine were making millions. I sold insider gossip several times to people prepared to pay even for a scrap of information.
By the morning of the third day, we owned most of the ellurite at the Bazaar. Almost three-quarters of all blue fuel in Sphere belonged to Hird, NAVY, and partially, me.
But what was going on in Dorsa? By that moment, despite the fierce resistance, seventy-five percent of the Northerners’ territories had been taken, including the Brethren’s castle. Basically, our current holdings amounted to the barren islands in the Windy Sea to the north. The Pandas either didn’t care about them or hadn’t gotten around to capturing them yet. In any case, the remote stronghold of the Varangians was still untouched.
During the blockade of the Bazaar, the Northerners adjusted their tactics. Continuing the guerilla warfare against Pandorum, they assembled several large raids and started threatening their opponents’ principal outposts. Commando units forced them into invincibility mode, making the Pandas regroup and redeploy their astral fleet to repel the attack. Over several days, the enemies had to perform more than thirty jumps through the astral portals and roll out their juggernauts seven times. Our goal was simple: wear them out psychologically and compel them to burn as much fuel as possible. Pandorum definitely had a strategic stockpile of ellurite. It was large but not unlimited.
The plan I had proposed at the coalition meeting was still underway. My reasoning was elementary: Pandorum maintained their dominance by constantly crushing us with their giant fleet of airships led by juggernauts. By denying them the opportunity to redeploy their vessels to different theaters of operation, we could pull the rug from their feet. On the ground, the Pandas could be dealt with by attacking them in various time zones, at the very least. At first, it had sounded unfeasible, but with time, this strategy bore fruit: the enemies came in minimal numbers, opening portals for their flagships with great reluctance. They even lost one of their crucial outposts because of that. Were they tired? Cutting down on ellurite?
I thought it was the second one. Our scouts who kept their finger on the pulse unanimously reported that Pandorum-affiliated merchants had started buying ellurite. At last, they got wind of our plan. We jacked up the prices, allowing the enemy to buy out the part of the market not belonging to our coalition, and made our move.
NAVY declared a two-day humanitarian pause. The truce prompted a new unpredictable price surge. For a few hours, everyone waited, and then, several daredevils slipped unchallenged across the border, followed by a wave of caravans and ships. Some wanted to make purchases, using the unparalleled discounts caused by Black Friday, while most were in a hurry to evacuate their stuff. True to form, NAVY were never going
