In a brightly lit room, there were three hundred desks laid out in a circular formation. Each desk was occupied by a man or woman dressed in a suit. Some were beastkin, others were dwarves and elves, but the majority were human. In the center of the circular formation, a video projection displayed a group of five people: Theda, Khrx, Mr. Bubbles, Lorin, and Anaheim. There was also one unidentified blob.

A man let out a sigh as Theda tilted her head up and fired a shadowy claw up at the camera. A few seconds later, the claw expanded until it engulfed the whole projection and destroyed the satellite feeding them the image. The projection turned into a solid block of blue light, and the man pressed a button to turn it off, allowing the three hundred leaders to see the person sitting across from them.

“This is a disaster,” someone muttered.

“I knew creating [Resolution] was a bad idea,” a beastkin with lion-like traits said. “Didn’t I say it? Didn’t I say [Resolution] would be a terrible idea? All of you laughed at me, but look at where we’re at now. We should’ve stuck with the nukes.”

“It’s too late for regret,” an elven woman said, shaking her head. “I too disapproved of creating a game to solve our conflicts in reality. The first thing we should do is shut it down before any more of these things cross over.”

“Who was the genius that proposed [Resolution]?” a dwarf wearing an eyepatch asked. “I say we hang ‘im.”

“That would be Sir Bozco,” a man said, eyeing the person sitting beside him. “It was his bright idea.”

Sir Bozco gritted his teeth. “Let’s not play the game of redirecting blame. All of us agreed on the creation of [Resolution]. I cannot be held solely responsible for this. All of us contributed and played our parts.” He gestured around himself, sweeping his gaze over the other 299 people. “Right now, we have to discuss solutions. It’s not the time to fall apart. We must stand united.”

“Flowery words may work on the masses, but think of your company, Sir Bozco. But you do have a point. Does anyone have any solutions?”

“Didn’t I say it?” the elven woman asked. “Shut down [Resolution].”

“That’s impossible,” the president of South Rokea said. “[Resolution] cannot be such down until the game concludes. There has to be a winner. Did you all forget the soul contract we signed?”

“But there’s a way around that soul contract, you know?” the lion-like beastkin said with a grin. He stared at Sir Bozco. “Someone can break the contract. Shouldn’t the brilliant man who suggested it be the one to sacrifice himself to correct the situation?”

“If it was just myself, I would gladly do it,” Sir Bozco said. “But all my countrymen would die along with me, and I can’t accept that.”

The beastkin’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying you’d rather let the world end? Is that how it is? You bring us to the brink of extinction and think a simple apology is going to appease us? Break the contract, Sir Bozco. It’s the only responsible thing to do.”

Sir Bozco glanced at the elven woman. “Shouldn’t the creator of said contract have a way out?”

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“Elves aren’t like humans, Sir Bozco,” the elven woman said, her voice icy. “We don’t create outs for ourselves to renege on deals. Isn’t that why you all entrusted me to create it?”

“Didn’t you propose we shut the game down?” Sir Bozco asked, raising an eyebrow. “What did you mean by that? Surely, you don’t expect a country to sacrifice itself to break the terms.”

“Isn’t it simple?” The elven woman shrugged. “When a victor appears, the game ends.”

The leaders stared at each other in silence.

“I’ll take the victory then,” a man with a blond beard said. “The Renchf have been ahead since day one.”

“Excuse me?” the prime minister of Great Tribain asked. “I can’t accept that.”

“Are my words wrong?” the blond-bearded man said with a sneer. “Who was the first to conquer their strategic resource? The Renchf. Who was the first to found a guild? The Renchf. Who was the first to create an empire? The Renchf. Extrapolating, isn’t it obvious who’s going to win the game?”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Aric Stone asked. “Of everyone here, my country has the greatest chance of victory.”

The dwarf with the eyepatch snorted. “You? You haven’t even founded a guild yet. So much for the efficiency of Regmans, huh?”

A faint smile appeared on Aric’s lips. “Lukroix Adveign Desrigard. The leader of Paradise and I Can Pick. I’ve subordinated myself under him. As long as he wins, Regmany’s objectives will be achieved. Wouldn’t it make sense for all of you to yield to us?”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” the blond-bearded man said. “We can’t allow an outside power to win the game. Think of the demands he’ll have upon victory.”

“So you’d rather let the world end than to concede,” Aric said. “I understand.”

“President Stone,” the leader of Amireca said. “What exactly is Mr. Desrigard trying to accomplish? Do you know his objective? I don’t believe someone playing just for fun with a group of friends can triumph over all our countries put together. He’s clearly the head of an organized group. A terrorist organization, perhaps?”

“Let’s not accuse each other of supporting terrorism when we all know who trained those insurgents in Aimbuloc,” a bald man with a scar on his forehead said.

The leader of Amireca snorted and glared at the bald man. “Don’t tell me Sursia also threw in their lot with Mr. Desrigard after being so devastatingly crushed by him.”

The bald man shrugged. “And if I did? What does that matter to you? If you don’t like it, then nuke me. Go on, break the contract. I’m waiting. Be the hero the world needs, Mr. Donovan. I’ll hire an expert to write your eulogy.”

Thumping sounds rang out as a woman smacked a mallet against her desk. She shouted, “Let’s not fight amongst ourselves, please.”

“Quit banging on the table, bitch,” the lion-like beastkin said, his ears pressed flat against his head. “Do you believe I won’t invade your country? Your grubby little hands have been reaching over my border for decades now.”

“What did you call me?” The woman threw her mallet, striking the beastkin’s nose.

“I’ll kill you!”

The elven woman shook her head and sighed as the lion-like beastkin navigated through a menu and pulled out an automatic rifle. She glared at the bald man with the scar. Someone had once again ‘forgot’ to disable weapons before hosting the conference. She shrugged and navigated through the menu before hitting the reset button, returning the room to how it was before blood started flying. At least the countries couldn’t nuke each other. A small consolation, but an appreciated one.

“You shot me!”

“And I’ll do it again! Watch me!” The lion-like beastkin once again pulled out his rifle.

Aric Stone whispered to the bald man. “It’s amazing how we managed to even sign a contract in the first place.”

“Isn’t it?” the bald man asked, raising an eyebrow. He held his hand out for a handshake. “You know, I never really liked you, but since we’re in the same boat, I’ll try to get along.”

“For our future cooperation,” Aric said, shaking the bald man’s hand. A bullet pierced both their palms at once.

The bald man growled as he retracted his hand and pulled out a skinning knife with his unharmed hand, rising to his feet. “That bastard,” he said while charging towards the leader of Amireca.

Aric leaned back in his seat, folding his bleeding hand over his lap. It seemed like this conference was going to take a while. As usual.