Max Difficulty system: Building my Base in a Volcanic Hell World

Chapter 1: prologue

Jack Mercer used to be an honor student with a bright future. Back in university, he had the highest marks in his class and a guaranteed fast-track into one of the top corporate firms in the country. He was built to lead, sharp-minded, and ready to climb to the very top.

But life rarely plays out the way you plan.

Being an orphan was hard enough, but getting on the bad side of a powerful, well-connected politician’s son was a death sentence for a career.

So now, at twenty-four years old, instead of sitting in a glass-walled corner office as a rising corporate executive, Jack stood behind a sticky stainless-steel counter, wiping down grease stains.

“Do you want fries with that, sir?” Jack asked, forcing his voice to sound polite despite the exhaustion clawing at his throat.

“Yeah, make it a large,” the customer grunted without looking up from his phone.

“Right away, sir.”

Jack turned toward the fryers, his knees aching and the soles of his feet burning like fire. He had been on his feet for fourteen straight hours. His apron reeked of old vegetable oil and burnt batter, a constant reminder of how far he had fallen. 'God, I hate when we’re short-staffed,' he thought, suppressing a groan as he scooped the fries into a cardboard container. 'Fourteen hours in this dump. I just need this shift to end.'

During his brief ten-minute break earlier, sitting in the cramped back room on a stack of plastic crates, Jack had pulled out his phone to play [Max Difficulty Survival]. It was an unforgiving, hardcore base-building game where players constructed fortresses by day and defended them against wave after wave of monstrous hazards by night. The game featured dozens of servers, each set in a different harsh environment—frozen tundras, toxic swamps, and desolate deserts.

Lately, Jack was obsessively grinding on the Volcanic Server, a ruthless 52°C hellscape. His sharp, strategic brain—the same brain that used to crush university exams—was his only real asset here. Optimizing resource routes and calculating heat-resistance math in the game was the only escape he had from the miserable reality of flipping burgers at Zib-Zab Buns.

When his shift finally ended, Jack practically dragged himself out the back door and slumped onto a seat on the night bus. Watching the city lights blur through the rain-streaked window, he let out a long breath.

“Well... at least I have a cute girlfriend waiting for me,” he muttered under his breath, a tired smile touching his lips. “Even if I still can’t get her to step outside the front door.”

Twenty minutes later, Jack arrived at their apartment complex. The building was run-down, the hallway carpet was faded, and the elevator constantly squeaked, but it was the only place he and Zoey could afford.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The moment the door latched open, Zoey flinched violently, her shoulders jumping as she instinctively pulled back into the shadows of her desk corner, away from the window blinds. It was only when her eyes caught Jack’s familiar face that the tension melted from her posture, replaced by a soft, quiet relief.

“I’m back,” Jack said softly, stepping inside and taking off his shoes.

“Welcome back,” Zoey replied, offering him a gentle smile.

Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes—a clear sign she had stayed up all night again, either grinding away at her online writing or lost in some video game to pass the hours. Jack couldn't even tell which, but he didn't mind. Zoey Brooks was a complete recluse who almost never left the apartment, and Jack couldn't even remember the last time she had set foot out on the street.

She hadn't always been like this. Back in high school, Zoey was vibrant, popular, and bright. Everything changed when they both got full scholarships to an elite, upper-class university filled with wealthy kids and influential families. A group of rich girls hated Zoey simply because she stood out, and things turned ugly when they tried to corner and hurt her.

Jack had stepped in to protect her, getting into a fierce physical fight with the ringleader's boyfriend—the son of a powerful figures with deep ties to the university board.

After that, college became a living hell for both of them. Zoey suffered a severe breakdown from the constant harassment and withdrew from the world entirely, becoming terrified of stepping outside. Jack managed to fight his way to graduation, but the damage was already done. The politician's family made sure his name was blacklisted from every major corporate firm in the country, forcing him to take whatever low-wage work he could find under the radar.

Now, while Jack worked grueling double shifts at Zib-Zab Buns, Zoey stayed locked safely in her room, earning a modest living as a web novel writer, too terrified of the world beyond their front door to ever leave.

Jack walked over, placed a hand gently on her shoulder, and looked at her tired, sweet face.

'Well,' Jack thought to himself, taking a deep breath, 'at least things can't possibly get any worse, right?'