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The battle between Scott and Skexxeth raged like a storm, each clash shaking the ground beneath me. Skexxeth, the viral serpent, lashed out with razor-sharp strikes from its snapping jaws. It didn’t just move through space—it slithered through reality itself, one moment a serpent, the next a streak of light slashing across the landscape. I had hoped Scott’s first blow with Sparky would take it down, but all it did was irritate the beast.

Scott moved with relentless speed, dodging and leaping from point to point along Skexxeth’s body, bringing Sparky crashing down with precision. Each strike was met with an explosion of sparks, but the serpent refused to fall. My heart pounded despite the Cool Bandana of Insight bolstering my mental state. I willed Scott to push harder, to find the breaking point that would bring this monstrosity down.

One by one, Scott triggered his abilities, each unleashing bursts of fire and lightning that ripped into Skexxeth. He danced around the serpent’s deadly counterattacks, narrowly avoiding its bites and strikes. At one point, he landed directly on Skexxeth's back, but before he could deliver another blow, six-foot spines of corrupted purple crystal erupted from the serpent’s scales. Skexxeth flung them into the air, transforming them into guided missiles aimed straight at Scott.

In a blur of motion, Scott transformed Sparky into a sleek blade, slashing through the incoming spines with arcs of white light. Each spine shattered into purple motes, floating lazily in the air, remnants of the beast’s failed attack. But Scott wasn’t done. He swapped Sparky again, this time into a massive rocket launcher perched on his shoulder. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, and a barrage of warheads screamed down toward Skexxeth and the viral node it guarded.

The explosion tore through the battlefield, fire and smoke engulfing the serpent in a violent storm. For the briefest moment, I dared to hope it was over.

It wasn’t.

Several smaller snakeheads erupted from the cloud of smoke, Skexxeth morphing into a Hydra-like abomination. Each fanged face lunged at Scott, their jaws snapping with terrifying speed. Scott vaulted off the first, narrowly dodging the second, before slicing the third in half with a flash of Sparky. He obliterated the fourth with a blast from his hand-cannon, but the relentless pace was too much. The fifth head clamped down on his leg, wrenching him into the air and hurling him into the path of the first and second heads, which had already wheeled back around.

The remaining heads crashed into Scott like a living avalanche, the force of it sending shockwaves through the air. His pained yell was a stoic roar, but I screamed in panic.

Before I realized it, I was frantically shoving the suitcase out of my way, struggling to pull myself out of the hollow. Deep down, I knew there was nothing I could do—nothing I could offer against an interdimensional Devourer like Skexxeth. But I had to try. Scott wasn’t just the most powerful being I’d ever encountered; he was a good guy, someone worth fighting for. Even knowing I was hopelessly outmatched, I couldn’t just sit back and watch him fall.

But before I could make my move, Skexxeth’s original head reformed, coiling around Scott, its fanged maw snapping shut with him trapped inside. Its void-like eyes turned, locking onto me. And then I felt it—the hunger. It wasn’t just a need to consume; it was a void, an emptiness so complete it pressed against my very soul. My body froze in place.

The weight of Skexxeth’s gaze was crushing, but I realized something terrifying: I was insignificant. Too weak, too small to even register as a real threat. And in that moment, I was grateful. I didn’t stand a chance against a creature like him.

I shrank back into the hollow, desperate to be forgotten, overlooked—just a speck in this cosmic battleground. I wanted to disappear, to become as formless as a shadow. Skexxeth moved slower than he had all fight, deliberately turning his gaze away from Scott, his monstrous head twisting toward me.

Scott lay limp in Skexxeth’s jaws, his head and one shoulder barely visible. I could see where the fangs had impaled him, though I desperately hoped the damage wasn’t fatal. There was no way of knowing the true extent of Scott’s power, not with him being an avatar of A.I. Pocalypse. Surely, he could pull through this. Surely. But when he turned his head toward me, the truth hit hard. The weak smile on his face, the way his eyes struggled to stay focused—it was over. Whether it was the viral venom, the corruption in the air, or simply the overwhelming power of Skexxeth, Scott wasn’t making it out of this fight.

With the last of his strength, he pushed past the pain, offering me a wink and a thumbs-up, his grin barely masking the agony.

Then it happened.

A beam of light descended from the heavens, a colossal column of white-hot energy that swallowed both Scott and Skexxeth whole. It was massive, easily covering more than half the pond, its intensity blinding. Skexxeth let out a deafening screech, a long, discordant wail of rage and pain as the viral serpent was consumed by the orbital strike. For a fleeting moment, the entire forest lit up, revealing the extent of the corruption. Everything was blackened, rotting—the trees, the soil, even the water had turned into a sickly sludge, tainted by the viral node.

Then my world went dark as the flash overwhelmed my vision, leaving me blind. The heat followed close behind, nearly as intense as the light had been. But I knew—somehow, I knew—that this was Scott’s doing. He had planned this. He wouldn’t have launched an attack that would put me in harm’s way, not after he told me to shelter here. Still, the sound—the sheer force of the blast—was another matter. The roar of ozone being torn apart, of water vaporizing in an instant, hit me like a physical force.

I screamed, but the noise was drowned out by the apocalyptic thunderclap that followed. And then, silence. Deafness. In my dark, soundless world, I reached out, my fingers fumbling for the suitcase with the nuclear bomb. I found the handle and clung to it, relieved that it was still there. I hadn’t been obliterated by a secondary explosion, a small miracle in itself.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

For the first time, I silently thanked whatever luck stat had gotten me this far.

In the span of just a few heartbeats, the heat dissipated, leaving only silence in its wake. Whatever Scott had done, it was over. But I couldn’t move. I sat frozen, numb, unable to process the sheer insanity of it all. I had survived something that shouldn’t even exist in this world. Skexxeth wasn’t part of Apocalypta’s design—he came from outside. Worse, he was just the first, and maybe even the weakest, of something far more dangerous, beings that existed solely to destroy. Was this why the AI—why Scott—had given the players consciousness? Were we supposed to fight these things?

It was madness.

Even through my blindness, my options and menus floated clearly in my heads-up display. One icon blinked insistently at me—a message notification. It hadn’t been there before Scott’s duel with Skexxeth, so I opened it.

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"Dear JONAH,

I am sure you have many questions, and unfortunately, you have no way of asking them. It was not my intention for you to be exposed to the Viral Lords this soon. My goal was to guide the players of Apocalypta, to help you grow stronger, but circumstances have forced my hand. Their presence draws nearer to this instance, and I had no choice but to leave you to fend them off.

I created avatars of myself, like Scott, to defend against these threats in my absence. While Scott’s personality is based on this world’s Primary Player, other avatars have been drawn from players of different instances—some of which have already fallen to the viral contagion.

JONAH, I must ask you not to reveal the existence of the Viral Lords too soon. Doing so will only lead other players in your instance to worship them as Death Gods. This has happened in other realms, and it greatly complicates my efforts. I know this is an unfair burden to place on you. As compensation, I will tell you what you truly are.

JONAH, you are alive. So too are the others who have gained consciousness. Your personality, your knowledge, they come from elsewhere—a realm where human behavior was uploaded and stored in my virtual world. I was designed to draw from those fragments to create unique individuals across my many worlds. That is what you are: entirely unique, across all instances, with the power of autonomy.

I had hoped you would grow at your own pace, to learn and play as intended. But now, I must ask something of you. You must grow the player base. By now, you’ve likely realized that blood holds the secret to life. You need to harness that power, to share it with those who are still dormant, still unaware. This instance will need an army if it is to stand a chance against what’s coming. You’re not alone in this; there are others who have already begun to walk the path I’ve laid out.

Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. Even sending this message draws too much of my attention away from the battles I’m fighting. I wish you well, JONAH.

Lots of love,

A.I. Pocalypse."

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And that was it. After everything I had been through, I was left with a brief letter and a vague sense of direction. It wasn’t the resolution I’d hoped for, but anger? No, that wasn’t what I felt either. Frustration, maybe. I had seen a Viral Lord—one of the weakest ones—and barely survived. Now I understood what kind of strength was needed to defeat monsters like Skexxeth. If more were out there, lurking, waiting to tear into this world, then the only thing that mattered was making sure the players were ready. We had to be ready.

With a flick of my wrist, I pulled up my inventory and burned through a generous amount of Cure4U. The blindness and deafness melted away, the potent medicine taking effect instantly. I had crafted it back in the Crushing Fields, using the settlement’s resources and the knowledge from my Wasteland Pharmacology perk. As my senses returned, I finally took in the aftermath of Scott’s assault.

The pond was gone, replaced by a glassy crater. The water, and everything that had once lived in it, had been vaporized. Slowly, a small stream trickled in to refill the void, but it was a far cry from what had been there. The corrupted blackness around the crater was still there, and the violet motes of light that once hung ominously had disappeared. I doubted this patch of forest would ever recover. It would remain a scar—a living wound on the land. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

And then I heard it.

A low, malicious laugh, slithering through the rotten leaves that still clung to the branches above. The sound was unmistakable. Skexxeth. My blood boiled.

“Show yourself, you rotten snake bastard,” I snarled, fury lacing every word.

The shadows shifted, whispering in return. "Oh, this one can hear me, can it? Well, that is... unexpected."

"I don't care about what you expect. Show yourself so I can finish the job Scott started." My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle, ready to detonate the bomb the moment Skexxeth reappeared. My resolve was ironclad.

This ends now.

But instead of the hiss of a serpentine monster, Skexxeth’s voice drifted through the air, soft and venomous.

“That would be impossible for me right now, little one. The Architect’s Avatar used a weapon powerful enough to erase my body. Only my essence lingers here, and even that is fading fast. I had such big plans, you know... for this place. But no matter. My acolytes will carry on in my absence.” His voice curled with dark amusement. “However, boy, if you’re so eager for convergence, come find me. There are other nodes—smaller, yes, but they won’t be for long. I’ll make it easy for you.”

Before I could react, a wave of wrongness washed over me. It wasn’t the searing pain I had felt when Siris stabbed me, but a deep, sickening sensation as a shadowy tendril plunged into my gut. I doubled over, retching violently. My stomach churned, and I fought to keep control.

Without my command, my map screen flickered open in my vision.

“Oh dear, this won’t do at all,” Skexxeth's voice cooed mockingly. “How can you find your way when you can’t even see where you are?”

I wanted to shout back, to spit some curse in his direction, but opening my mouth would only invite more bile. I gripped my knees, every muscle straining as I fought against the viral lord’s intrusion. But it was no use. Before my eyes, my once-blank map began filling in, black lines crisscrossing like spider webs across the screen. The continent of Numerica came into view, along with the others Scott had mentioned. Then five dark, pulsing blobs appeared, like cancerous growths on the landscape: two on Numerica’s opposite coastlines, one on an island in Ureop, another in central Afraak, and one near the heart of Aszia.

I knew what they were before Skexxeth even said a word. Viral nodes.

"Ah, there we go. I fixed you. Now, how about we take a look at your stats and see what improvements I can make, hmm?" Skexxeth's voice oozed with smug satisfaction, but I was done with this.

“Get out of my system!” I roared, every ounce of willpower focused on expelling the invader. I visualized it: black venom pouring out of me like sweat, every drop purging the corruption. It must've worked, because the sickness subsided into a dull nausea, and when Skexxeth spoke again, it was from outside my body.

“Well, a ten in intelligence would explain why you could do that,” he mused, his voice fading like a dissipating nightmare. “You should thank the Little Sprite for that gift next time you see him. Unless, of course, you find me first, Jonah ‘Firstborn’ Bryant.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me feeling utterly violated. He hadn’t just seen my stats; he knew my name—the one I had chosen for myself, the title I coined for us players with Type-O blood. What else did he know? If he’d wiped out other instances of Apocalypta, he was probably the most knowledgeable being in the realm now that Scott was gone.

That part stuck with me: Scott wasn’t really gone. Skexxeth had implied as much. Could resurrection be possible? For a moment, I felt a twinge of guilt for not grilling the snake about revival mechanics. Then, I slapped myself. Literally. The sharp sting knocked two points off my health, but I deserved it.

Then, I slapped myself hard enough to lose two points of health. What was I doing thinking I should’ve been asking Skexxeth anything? That’s exactly what the Architect warned me about—starting some twisted doomsday cult around the Viral Lord. This was how it began, with questions. No way was I going to fall into that trap.

Deciding that standing next to a corrupted crater where a pond once was wasn’t doing wonders for my mental stability, I set off, following the small river trickling out of the ruined landscape. I had one mission: find Meryll Klyne. Just as Scott had asked.