Slow advance. All in all. Stacked defenders at every chokepoint. Hidden ambushes in the maze of tunnels. Hollows of varied size and clever mechanisms working together. Automaton. Powered by magical crystals. Not an ounce of sentience in them. Their AI gone wrong, multiplying endlessly, consuming all.

Art Delvers took it all down. Perfectly synchronized. They built the same build every game, or as close as the random skill trees let them. Same role. For the last 5 years. A game per day, stretched to 24 days through the engine’s time dilatation. Had humanity ever had soldiers as trained as this? Had it ever seen a boxer with 100 years of continuous training?

Now it had. The last five years had delivered a mortal blow to human’s references, all records broken. The walking monkeys, larping as a civilization, went straight to the space age. The super AI had dissolved time. The infinite galaxies of possibilities had delivered Enoch here. Fighting with an ethereal blade, neon pink, teleporting around. His consciousness freed, bound by the rules he had agreed too.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? I can’t get used to it.” Tag | Mom.

It didn’t hurt but it smelled. Burnt metal and toxic smoke. Combined with the ambient heat, it made for uncomfortable experience, yet barely registered, lost to the concentration.

Enoch breached yet another wall of defenders. Two big hollows, their four front legs forged into shields. Tiny fighters crawled over them, shooting shards of crystalized mana, well protected in the recess of the huge carapaces.

One of these shards, sickly green, skewered Enoch’s belly and the strong steel protecting it. It didn’t hurt thanks to the game’s pain filter. Even better, his Resist overpowered the projectile’s poison.

The Blink Sword sliced a leg. A Lightning Bolt fried the empty drone and all its tiny friends. Good thing they weren’t keeping count. The mage would win.

Great level design on this higher path. It hugged the very top of the main battlefield. Holes in the left wall showed glimpses of the carnage below. Real Drones, propelled by their own spark, fought the empty one, executing broken instructions. Huge drones dominated the fight. Walking battleships, they tanked swarms of blows, opened breaches for their smaller comrades. The dead piled, creating new obstacles where they fell.

Specialized monstrosities crawled under the wrecks. Mechanical centipedes of various sizes fighting for both sides, lit up or empty inside. They made waves in the layers of junks as they advanced. Sprung out in ambush, ate their smaller enemies, swarmed their biggest ones. When the size where similar, they bit and coiled around their target, dragged them under.

“Let’s not go there,” said Ally, appearing beside Enoch.

She waited half a second to take it all in then nudged the scout. Right, there was grinding to do.

***

They emerged in an empty tunnel past the main battlefront. Their two companion Drones sent them a wave of encouragement before turning back, radiating disbelief.

“They didn’t expect to get that far,” said Anton.

“Probably not,” said Turner, “but here we are.”

“This tunnel is definitely loaded with traps,” said Tetsuo. He gave a huge scroll case to his scout, then indicated the tunnel with a nod.

Time to go. Enoch strapped the scroll on his back. He kissed Ipabo, the patron god of traps, and glided forward on his Omnilegs. Four oversized blades crossed each other. Runes exploded. Stone hammers crushed. One second too late.

Enoch rode the wave of destruction, using his four limbs to spin and spring around. The Hollows were serious about their traps.

At the end of it, in one of the few safe spots, the giant scroll unrolled, instantly summoning the four Art Delvers.

“That was something,” said Ally, “not sure I could have done it.”

“Of course, you could have,” said Turner.

“No lying,” said Tetsuo, “next thing you know, she’ll try it and get killed.”

“Hey,” said Ally, “have some respect. I’m not that bad.”

The mage stayed silent.

“Don’t worry,” said Anton, “you’re the best backstabber I have ever seen.”

They looked at each other. Looked at the corridor. All its traps unleashed on their scout’s blurred shadow.

***

“It’s so boring,” said Turner.

Two days now. Not a single fight. The four professional players being carried around like a pack of freeloaders.

Enoch didn’t say anything. He stared at nothing. Sipped his beer from time to time. His days were the direct opposite. He had never felt more alive. The hardest traps in the game. Amazing loot. Fun parkour. Almost too easy, yet the adrenaline spiked every time. He could die in an instant.

The chat cheered him now. Praising his moves. Someone was apparently doing a guide out of his parkour through deadly traps. Enoch received tips to stop dramatically after the dangerous traps, apparently for the guide.

“We’re almost there,” said Anton, “then it’s non-stop fighting to take the castle.”

Enoch left the table. He had already heard that conversation. More than once. He sat by the huge panoramic window, and beside the Bird Spider.

“So, hum, you’re the Bird Spider.”

She looked at him.

“I’m a solo player too. I run fast.”

She looked at Art Delvers.

“Oh yeah, It’s a temporary alliance. I would expect a backstab but they have a great reputation. Not worth ruining it just to kill me.”

“Makes sense,” said the Bird Spider, “you’re having fun?”

“I’d like to see the sky from time to time but the traps are fun.”

“Careful out there. It’s all fun and game beating the NPCs’ traps until you end up into a Trapsmith level 11 trap.”

She rose saying it. Left with an amused look. Disappeared into the stairs to the players rooms. His gaze followed her all they way. She turned twice.

***

The skill tree was boring now. No exploration. No real choice. Piling points into chosen branches. +40 Health | + 40 Stamina | Martial 6 | Double Jump 3 | Blitz 3.

Even simpler for Choo. Intellect 4 | Tower Golem 2. The last summon seemed good in theory. No real chance to test it yet.