Daniel Nyman, Sergeant First Class in the Emperor's Guard, walked to the city wall with his player team. The whole Council of Man was close behind. Dozens of other teams were marching in loose formation towards the invaders.

It was what they’d all trained for. For months now in the simulations. In the Neutral Zone. Against invading non-humans and planars. A great battle for the ages.

But Daniel had never felt fear like he did in that moment. He and his team—one of the best in the city—had fought the eastern six man team and lost. They hadn’t lost badly, and if it was just people like that he was up against, it wouldn’t have phased him. But it wasn’t.

It was Mason Nimitz.

Like everyone else, he’d watched ‘The Wolf of the West’ face the emperor and his Minister of War, and beat them both. He’d hoped the emperor would improve himself—that he’d come to his players and tell them how things were, and that they’d need to spend every waking moment preparing for this day.

But he hadn’t. The leadership had been silent. No one on the council or any of the senior officers discussed the loss, or what they’d do about it. No one discussed the possibility that Mason Nimitz was maybe unstoppable. That they should surrender to him because he could be the best hope for mankind to ‘win’ the game. Whatever the hell that meant.

Daniel could stand a tyrant. He could stand harsh rules and order with an iron fist and some men with most and other men with little. But he couldn’t stand incompetence. So he had discussed it.

“Dying fighting either of those men makes no sense,” he’d argued, way back in the Neutral Zone, in the privacy of his team’s joint room. “They’ll fight. And when it happens, we wait and let them. We keep the fuck out of the way. We join the winner.”

“Easy to say. And that kinda talk could get you killed,” had said Achmed, their pure caster. They met eyes and he knew the man only said it because they were friends. That because any other member of the team could tell someone who mattered, and Daniel would die that afternoon. But he knew as he’d said it that he trusted those men with his life. He’d met all their eyes.

“We don’t die for no reason. If it comes to it, we get away. We wait. Jeong doesn’t deserve our loyalty. None of them do. They couldn’t give two shits about us. So we wait. We stay alive. Agreed?”

One by one the men had nodded. They hadn’t discussed it since. Not a word. But now they were here being marched to their deaths with the cowardly emperor nowhere in sight. He was sending them in like cannon fodder, probably hoping they’d use up some of his enemy’s mana or kill some of his people and make him sloppy with rage.

It was so stupid. So selfish and incompetent and pathetic. But what the hell could Daniel do about it with the whole council standing right there? He had to get them out. Get them away. Once the fighting started, and the chaos began, he knew it could happen.

As he saw the now huge walls, a piece of him hoped the enemy couldn’t get inside. But he knew they would. Daniel had to get his team to understand—to go pure defensive, to fall back and scatter in the closest buildings when things got wild.

They’d arrived now and stopped at the main street that circled the city, a good fifty feet of open ground between the wall and the nearest buildings. The Minister of War was shouting orders and making some ridiculous speech about fighting for the emperor. Like anyone in the holy city fought for him for any reason except necessity.

‘Where are the other players?’ he wanted to shout. ‘Where is anyone not forced by being part of the Great Mighty Jeong’s House?’

But it made no damn difference. He moved closer to his men and got their attention. Jeong had too many damn spies. He had to be careful.

“Delta Pattern,” he said meaningfully. Their team was aggressive and almost always attacked. But Delta was their defensive posture. A ‘wait and see’ that meant don’t go all-in until Daniel gave the command.

The men exchanged looks, but nodded, just like they had in the Neutral Zone. Daniel took a breath and wiped sweat from his brow. He ignored the Minister and looked up at the top of the wall, feeling like any moment that madman and his bow and his giant wolf would come leaping over.

“We deal with the weaker players first,” he said, hoping keep the fuck away from Nimitz was understood.

Again his men nodded, and again Daniel turned and stared at the wall. They watched in silence together, ignoring that ridiculous man’s speech together, just as they’d survived the game so far together.

Daniel wiped another few beads of sweat off his forehead.

**

“Well I guess the shopping trip’s canceled,” Mason heard someone say as they all climbed to the top of the wall and looked over. He few people laughed, and he couldn’t help but grin.

The enemy players had arrived. Looked like nearly a hundred of the bastards, all in Jeong’s colors. Nobody was blasting off powers yet. They all sort of just stood there and stared—Mason and his people from the top of the wall. A loose cluster of red colored men and women staring up at them from a wide street.

It was a tense, surreal moment. They’d slipped past 90% of the wall defences without any problems because of Becky’s prestige power. Some of his people were still shooting down flying creatures, or tossing zombies off the ramp below like they were playing with toddlers. He was pretty sure he saw John yawn.

All the buildings and people inside reminded Mason of the old world—made him feel more ‘human’, like he had in a crowd less than a year before. The chaos made him anxious. Overwhelmed by all other man-shaped predators around him. Vulnerable from some angle he couldn’t see.

Except that part of him had shrunk. It was a quiet whisper now behind a roar of understanding: he didn’t need to be afraid of these people. They needed to be afraid of him.

“Orders, Patron?” Phuong said beside him, blasting some skeleton flying with a weaved pattern of his purple sword.

“Nothings changed,” he said. “Be cautious. I’ll go down for a chat. But expect to fight.”

He waited for a question, but when nothing came he growled at Streak to stay, then leapt the fifty feet straight to the paved road, landing with a crack. He stood before the enemy players, glancing at a few of their nearby, allied corpses for effect.

“All I want is Jeong.”

The sea of sweaty faces stared, and said nothing. They hardly even moved.

“We outnumber them five to one,” called a voice from their back.

“Yeah.” Mason smiled. He tried not to want this. He really did.

“Enough talk,” called the same voice. It was familiar. Maybe Jeong’s little friend. “Leave, or die.”

“Funny,” Mason called back. “That’s what those dead guys said.”

Violence grew heavy like moisture in the air, but the moment was long and still. Mason looked between the players and saw familiar faces—a few members of Jeong’s council. People he’d fought or seen fight in the Neutral Zone. It seemed the mighty emperor had really sent his best and most loyal people to fight without him.

But why? Did he really think they’d succeed where he himself had failed? No. He would know they’d only make Mason stronger. That they wouldn’t be able to stop him. So what game was the man playing? It couldn’t just be fear. Was he getting internal rivals killed?

Even if that was true, Mason was pretty willing to play along. Especially with his people vulnerable and behind him. He did his best to wait, to think, to give these people the chance to change their minds and take off those robes. They were human beings in a terrible situation. They hadn’t been murderers or tyrants before all this. He could still give them one last chance to walk away.

“It’s not too late,” he said, meeting a few different eyes. “Whatever you did, or didn’t do. You can end it now. You can still…”

The emperor’s friend stepped out from a small crowd, body twisting as he formed a red, swirling javelin, and threw it. The man moved fast, Mason gave him that. The power of the throw was impressive, too. It would have made every Olympic athlete on old earth stand and stare with slack jawed wonder.

Mason slapped the metal away like it was nothing and formed his bow, putting a Power Shot right back at the man’s throat. A shield flared blue as the missile exploded and stopped before it arrived.

“Kill them!” Damian screamed. “Or be hung as a traitor!”

Mason saw the reluctance. The fear. But dozens of men and women moved to obey. The air hummed with power; the paved streets cracked and burst; light began to glow in a dozen spheres and cones and silhouettes around the enemy.

“Light ‘em up, ya’ll!” Becky called from somewhere behind him on the wall. More power and grunting efforts came from his own side. They were strong, but they were outnumbered badly.

Mason had to make sure the enemy didn’t have much time to target them.

Instinct and necessity overcame everything. He fought the urge to take and withstand whatever they threw at him, just to show he could. He clicked Aspect of the Cheetah, and bolted.

The emperor’s hand was his target. But he’d take off any other body part that got in range. He loosed a Crippling blast and a number of other shots as he ran, all of which hit shield. He’d be draining their mana, but he was draining his own, too.

Streak soared over the top of the wall and the players, dropping as easily as Mason, howling as he raced to get closer. Mason didn’t hold him back. He was so big and tough now, combined with shared passives and Pain if needed, he had no fear for the equally overpowered creature.

He angled his sprint and summoned his Claws, charging towards a pack of at least ten players. They scattered and hit him with bursts of force like Blake’s Telekinesis. Stronger ‘shields’ or walls of purplish energy appeared like football blockers.

Some cracked, some broke, his resistances flaring as he pushed and slashed his way through. A cyclone of water swirled around his legs. Projectiles struck his chest in quick succession, each leaving what looked like smoke until they curled around him like rope.

He growled and pushed, twisted, slashed. But there were just too damn many effects from those casters in the back. It was awfully tempting to nullify all their magic, but he was a bit too close to his friends for comfort. And getting him to use his abilities might be the point.

Maybe Jeong had told them to wear down his mana and his abilities, get his players hurt or overwhelmed, waiting to attack when he was ‘weak’. It made the most sense.

Mason struggled and fought with the enemy right in front of him, but he was ready. He was waiting. He knew he really only had one target. One man to kill to end it all.

A few more seconds and he was through the first round of magic defence. The players were falling back again, their leader shouting and calling them cowards. Some had gone to exchange ranged shots with his people above.

But he could already sense the panic. The diverted attention as several held off Streak, or had to deal with his people. They couldn’t hold him off. Not for long. And if something didn’t change, or Jeong didn’t arrive, the slaughter would soon begin.

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