At four in the morning, Mercyaa returned to the game:

“Well, did the flower grow?”

Hebanyac nodded and said that the plant was poisonous and added:

“So, I burned it.”

They sat in silence for about thirty minutes until the commander turned to the steward and asked:

“Why do you think monsters attack us with one goal in mind: to kill us? What motivates them at that moment? What is their philosophy?”

“Philosophy in monsters?” Mercyaa laughed. “Hebanyac, you’re fucked in the head. As I see it, there are two types: the first are the conscious ones and you can negotiate with them, and the second is the unconscious type and they want to kill you and get your mana to become stronger. You should read the bestiary once in a while. You’ll have fewer questions.”

“That’s not what I mean. The unconscious type is the final stage. Take, for example, the animals on our planet. While they were free, from the dawn of life to the twenty-second century, they killed for food or to protect themselves. That’s what their survival philosophy is built on, you know? Even the weakest creature has this kind of instinct. And here it’s exactly the opposite. The beasts of the Earth, or the monsters of Thalack, are a product of the planet, a mirror, an embodiment. So, if in reality, everything revolves around survival, here they revere death. The more you kill, the stronger you become. The question is, how will the conscious races behave in such a case?”

“I think you’ve gone too far in your reasoning. Go get a couple of hours of rest and get some sleep.”

“I’m serious.”

“It’s just like any MMO game. Kill, level up, get stronger.”

“The only difference is that in MMOs the monsters respawn, but not here. Thus, it changes everything. They have to have a self-preservation instinct. When you can’t respawn, you appreciate life more. That’s why on Earth we, well, basically try not to kill everyone we meet, because one, it won’t strengthen us, and two, we might die.”

“You mean the races that await us on the other side of the mountains are probably bloodthirsty, murderous monsters?”

“There will be at least one. It’ll be the main antagonist. There are antagonists everywhere.”

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“We’ll see.”

“One last thought.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Someday, we’ll use summoning magic. So wizards can summon weak monsters and power-level newcomers, right?”

“Maybe.”

“What if a weak monster kills three or four players, gets stronger, eventually kills its creator, and after a while turns into a boss and destroys the entire Otron? What then?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You mean the little monster isn’t capable of becoming a boss?”

“I think the mage would destroy it before it became that powerful.”

“What if the monster gets a gun and shoot the wizard?”

The wakening Rdrag interrupted their dialogue. He approached his two comrades and said:

“I thought the game froze. I was online, but the screen was black.”

“You were asleep,” Hebanyac said.

“The military commander never left your side, kept you safe,” Mercyaa said with a chuckle. “And then a screw loosened up in his head and he started talking about monster philosophy.”

“Stop. So, you’ve been here over twenty-four hours? How’s that possible?”

Hebanyac shrugged his shoulders and answered:

“Maybe it’s a system error. I’m lucky.”

“What happened to me?” Asked Rdrag, still coming to his senses.

Mercyaa told him everything he knew and then they made a new rule - to not allow anyone closer than 500 meters to the entrance and to themselves.

“Hebanyac, why the hell aren’t you asleep?” The healer continued his questioning.

“You see...” He hesitated to answer, “the smell was so strong that I had a gas mask on, and the trick didn’t work on me.”

“Where are the flowers?”

“I burned them.”

“Of course, you did...”

“Is there something with it?”

“Yeah. We could have analyzed them!”

“You’d find a problem, even with a lamppost. What’s there to analyze? It’s all in the HUD. Open it up and read it. What’s the problem?”

They came out of the tunnel and sat down. The clock struck seven. The cool breeze of the gray morning blew with the birds to the east. At the top of the mountain, the sounds of a landslide could be heard. At Varnasosto’s fortress, the players were still bustling and running about. Hebanyac looked to the east, where the sun was shining with a red-hot disc through the thick abyss of clouds. Then he turned his head to the west and there he saw a strange black dot. The military commander took his binoculars out of his pocket and he saw the unidentified flying object through the protective glass of his foggy helmet. It drew nearer and nearer, Hebanyac could see the wings. The wingspan was incredible. The creature hovered, descending smoothly a dozen meters down, and then, with a single sweep, it rose and disappeared behind the clouds.

“I’ve never seen such enormous birds,” said the military commander.

Rdrag and Mercyaa turned their heads, first to Hebanyac, then to the west. The manager shuddered, dropped his binoculars, swore, got to his feet, and took a closer look.

“It’s a fucking dragon! Dragon!”

“Send a message to Gra,” said Rdrag. “They must be ready for its arrival.”

“Let’s help them,” Hebanyac said and got up and prepared to run, but Mercyaa stopped him.

“We are not moving from this spot.”

“There’s a fucking dragon over there!”

“Even if the king of the gods of this world himself came down from the heaven.”

“It’ll be an EPIC Battle, friend!”

“Well, it’s your choice: epic battle or the position of a military commander.”

He swore and sat down in a lotus pose, crossed his arms across his chest, and went silent.