Chapter Twenty-One:
"The Illusion of Safety"
A distant roar shook autumn leaves from the branches above, crimson and amber fragments spinning down through shafts of fading sunlight. The sound coursed through their group. Tobias’ hands shifted on his shield ready. David rubbed his hands together, a warm light beginning to form. Racheal’s fingers traced invisible calculations, her focus unwavering.
Keira let her mind reach for that sense of direction. Suddenly, her vision filled with information she hadn’t even realized she could access. A band of ethereal blue light curved gracefully through her field of view. Icons shimmered into existence: a campsite marker barely a quarter mile ahead, and beyond that, what had to be the village, Emberwood.
"Side quest detected," Racheal confirmed, her analytical tone carrying an undercurrent of genuine wonder. "'Journey to Emberwood.'" She focused, and a soft green indicator materialized over the village icon.
Another roar, closer now.
The Pyre Flies scattered in erratic bursts, flickering in and out like a disrupted signal. The forest shifted, stillness broken by the whisper of unseen movement, as if something was watching, waiting.
A Player in Knight’s armor near the front stepped forward, her transformed war hammer held with the casual competence of someone who had spent countless hours playing similar games. "We need scouts," she said, voice low, as if afraid to wake something slumbering. "Small team to check the path while the rest fortify a position. We can't afford surprises. Not to mention an army of six hundred draws a lot of attention."
"That campsite marker’s close," Keira said. "Quarter mile. Get everyone there, dig in, then send a team to—"
"I’ll go." Racheal’s voice carried that particular certainty Keira recognized from incident commanders who had run the numbers and knew their solution would work. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just the cold, hard calculus of what needed to be done.
"You’ll need a shield." Tobias shifted his stance. His deep-set eyes scanned the tree line with efficiency. "And someone who knows how things can turn chaotic, fast… from either side of the line."
"And someone to keep you breathing," David added softly, his steady presence resonating outward, calming those nearby through the simple certainty of his being. "Assuming no one’s eager to test if respawning is actually possible here."
The lighter warmed Keira’s palm. Gameweaver sighed, luxuriating in their silence. "Oh, you clever little things," she mused. "So sure you’re in control. But tell me, how can you trust what you see, when the rules change beneath your feet?" "Oh, don’t mind me!" Her voice dripping with mock indulgence. "I’m just here for the show. Please, make your choices, suspense is my favorite part!" A syrupy chuckle oozed into the space between them. "A scouting party? Bold! Dangerous! The kind of decision that gets people killed, or worse... separated. Love it!"
The Pyre Flies pulsed faintly, her unseen grin curling at the edges of the Realm. Her presence stretched, as if reclining in a plush theater seat, her tone shifting into something almost sing-song. "My, my... What a gamble. But I do adore gambling."
She lingered, unseen yet undeniably present.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Now.
Four strangers, bound by survival and circumstance.
Each brought something vital to their chances of making it through the unknown waiting ahead.
Kiera had led teams before, had made the calls that sent people into burning buildings, but this, this was different. This world didn’t follow the laws of nature, of logic. The air felt thin here, the rules too loose, too mutable.
It gnawed at her instincts, what was she missing? They weren’t just facing fire and collapsing structures. They were facing a reality reshaped by something’s twisted imagination, and they were only beginning to understand the rules.
Something was approaching.
The ancient forest held its breath.
Along the winding path and through the surrounding trees, six hundred survivors stood ready. They had arranged themselves in circular rings that radiated outward from where Keira's team waited, a formation born of instinct and necessity.
The terrain worked in their favor, with gentle rises and scattered clearings allowing ranks of archers and spellcasters to position themselves between the massive trunks, while warriors with shields formed a loose perimeter that zigzagged through the underbrush.
A woman in leather armor wiped sweat from her brow with a trembling hand, her daggers catching the light that filtered through the canopy.
Nearby, a swordsman's eye twitched beneath his helm as he maintained his ready stance.
The Pyre Flies twisted overhead, their light quivering in jittery, unstable pulses, Gameweaver's emotions made manifest, a silent tremor of amusement, anticipation, or something far worse.
Snap.
Branches crackled in the darkness ahead. The sound of something moving through the underbrush grew closer. A bush shook violently, and hundreds of transformed players drew in a collective breath, weapons raised, spells half-formed in trembling hands.
Snap. Rustle. CRACK!
The bush's leaves parted, and out waddled... a chipmunk.
It sat up on its haunches in a shaft of sunlight, tiny paws clutching what appeared to be a glowing acorn. Its copper-brown fur gleamed, while its cheeks, impossibly round and pudgy, puffed out with what could only be described as absolute adorableness. Wide, innocent eyes surveyed the crowd as its tiny nose twitched.
"Oh my god, it's so cute!" someone whispered, breaking the tension.
Weapons lowered as nervous laughter spread through the ranks. The swordsman's stance softened, while the woman with the daggers actually cooed.
Racheal's UI flared with sudden data, information streaming across her vision. Her voice caught in her throat as information blazed through her consciousness:
EMERALDWOOD DEVASTATOR
Level: 10
Threat Assessment: LETHAL
DANGER: Stored magical power exceeding safe measurement threshold.
ALERT: DO NOT APP—
"Tabias, wait!" she cried out, but the shield-bearer was already moving forward, his gnomish form making the approaching creature seem somehow even smaller by comparison.
"Look… If something this adorable is what kills me," he chuckled, kneeling down, "then I don't deserve to—"
The chipmunk's eyes snapped open wider, blazing with electric blue light.
Its fur bristled outward as those cute, pudgy cheeks swelled to impossible sizes, crackling with barely contained power.
The Pyre Flies above twisted violently, their movements frantic.
Tabias froze mid-reach, his breath cut short, as a sharp dread curled in his gut.
The chipmunk's battle form fully manifested, electric blue eyes promising devastation.
Before Tabias could even register his mistake, still kneeling, those impossibly swollen cheeks contracted.
The energy burst erupted with a high-pitched whine that set teeth on edge before everything went sideways.
His shield buckled on impact, its surface warping under the sheer force of the blast before splintering into useless fragments.
The blast caught him square in the center, launching his gnomish form backward through the air. His HP bar dropped from full to 15 in a heartbeat, the damage number "985" blazing above him in angry red as he slammed into an ancient trunk.
The impact sent his SP gauge plummeting into the yellow, muscles screaming as he struggled to maintain his grip on the shield.
The moment stretched, frozen in collective horror. Then Gameweaver's voice seeped into the space, velvet-soft, distorting the air like a signal just slightly out of sync. It carried an echo, as if she was whispering from just behind them, yet nowhere at all.
"Ohhhh," drawing out every delicious second of their dawning horror. "Did you really think I wouldn't put a twist on such things? Oh, my sweet little hopefuls, tell me, did you actually think you could trust anything here?"
"SCATTER!" Keira's voice cut through the chaos.
But it was already too late.