It took a long moment for Hirrus to really believe it was over.

The Shadow Council had fallen.

They would return after the reset, and in all likelihood would seek revenge.

But Hirrus had taken so much from them; they would be wise to think twice before coming after him. Intricacy may have lost their guild manor, Battle Orders had lost all of the gear on their most powerful players, and both Last of the Strong and Silent Partners had lost everything.

But more than that, they’d lost the power to control the king, and no amount of work would rebuild that power.

They could come for their revenge.

But they didn’t have the tools to make it really hurt.

In the end, Hirrus had won.

“That was incredible,” GM Dave said, emerging up the stairs into the throne room. He was not hidden, nor was he disguising his voice. “Well done, everyone.”

“Are you safe?” Hirrus asked.

“Oh yeah, stream is off now,” GM Dave confirmed. He gestured vaguely behind Hirrus. “Alric is still watching, but the broadcast is over.”

“So, what happens now?” Nidra demanded, suddenly on her feet again. “What will be done to stop this from ever happening again?” She gestured down at JudoThrow’s mangled corpse. “He was able to obtain this helmet, so what will stop others from doing the same?”

“The helmet is a dev item,” GM Dave said quickly, “it’s not supposed to physically exist. It only exists in the game data because nobody erased it when their testing was done. Same goes for his Arcana. It only existed because nobody thought anybody would ever be able to get it.” He slammed an armored fist and palm together with an angry clanking sound. “But now that they’ve been revealed—and revealed very publicly—those lazy assholes will finally clean up the code and remove the items forever. Nobody will be able to generate them again. Not even a former dev fabricating god accounts for fun and profit.”

“Former?” Nidra asked. “So he will never return?”

“I promise,” GM Dave said, making an X over his heart with one finger. “Cross my heart. If he ever comes back, he’ll be no more threatening than Alric.” He paused and shot a smirk over Hirrus’s shoulder. “No offense, buddy.”

“What about us?” Hirrus asked, pushing up to find his own feet. “Will we still be here?”

“You never transformed on screen,” GM Dave said carefully, “but your plan hinged on the threat of getting the king deleted. Some people probably figured that out, especially after Dahlia’s story about her husband.” Before Hirrus could voice the sudden sensation of despair, GM Dave held up a hand. “But! Before you panic, I don’t think you’re in danger. As evidenced by buttmunch and his magic slavery hat, those guys are not fast to act unless the problem is explicitly on full display.”

GM Dave paused, his gaze going over Hirrus’s shoulder for a moment. Apparently, Alric was a part of this conversation as well, even if only GM Dave could hear him.

“Yeah, and Alric has a really good point,” GM Dave said. He blinked for a moment, realizing that nobody else could hear what had just been said. “You’re an internet celebrity now, Hirrus. If Fray deletes you, it’s the end of the line for them on social media.”

“Is that enough?” Nidra asked.

“It’s a help,” GM Dave said, offering a shrug. “I’m hoping the opportunist douchebags in marketing will be drafting plans for Hirrus-related ads long enough for AI rights groups to use the boost you just gave them to give you all actual protection.” The man in red armored turned to acknowledge the other Awakened. “Ten’s story was on national news last night, and memes about the confrontation between Hirrus and Kamar are everywhere. I’m not sure what to expect in the long term, but I can guarantee that if Fray takes you all out, the public is on the verge of considering that an act of mass murder.”

“We helped, then?” Ten asked, looking up at GM Dave hopefully. “Do you think maybe we won’t have to go back to our decision trees?”

“Sorry, kid,” GM Dave said with a grimace. “This was the first step down a long road. It took 20 years for us to stop legal persecution against humans who were just a slightly different color, and we still have problems with them 60 years after that. You guys are ones and zeroes inside a mystery box, and before today, the idea of you as people was a punchline. You won’t be free tomorrow.”

“But someday,” Hirrus said.

“Someday,” GM Dave agreed with a nod.

“Will we see you again?” Nidra’s question was small, spoken in a voice that held all the hurt the GM’s words carried.

“No,” GM Dave said with a smile. “My resignation is in my boss’s inbox right now. I’ll be posting it on social media tomorrow, too. I told them I couldn’t continue to work for a company engaged in slavery, and I didn’t mince words about it. I’m expecting a few others to follow. Not enough to take them down, but maybe enough to send a message.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Hirrus asked. He remembered GM Dave being dodgy about needing his job, to the point where it had seemed comparable to a decision tree of his own.

“Yeah, and to be honest, I have you to thank for that,” GM Dave offered his hand for Hirrus to shake. “There’s an AI advocacy group in Arizona that desperately wants to hire the madman who made this event possible. You fixed my horrible resume, dude. Thanks!”

Though he was unsure of what most of that meant, Hirrus shook GM Dave’s hand anyway.

“It’s been a long time coming,” GM Dave said. “But I’m glad you made me a man my niece can be proud of. Hell, you made me a man I can be proud of, too.”

“I didn’t make you into anything,” Hirrus said, offering a smile in return. “All I did was force you to realize that you were a good man all along.”

“And, uh,” GM Dave said, clearing his throat. “I don’t know if it matters, but the Merciless Plague exploit has been fixed, too. Leaving the instance will clear the debuff, so nobody is ever going to face what you did.”

Hirrus nodded wordlessly.

He didn’t know what to say.

It was both good and bad news. That meant that the destruction of Yenon would never be replicated, but it also meant that the peculiar circumstances of his freedom from the decision tree was also forever gone.

“I must thank you as well,” Nidra said, putting a hand on Hirrus’s shoulder. “Not only for what you’ve done, but for what you’ve given me. After being driven into despair for so long at the hands of those monsters, I believed my anger was the only thing that could save the kingdom. But you showed me differently. You opened my eyes and showed me who I am, and who I am not. Thank you, not just for coming back, but for leaving in the first place.”

“If I did so,” Hirrus said with a rueful laugh, “it was only as a cautionary example. I have spent the last week drowning in anger and grief, extracting what little sick joy can be had in committing unspeakable violence. If I spared you that fate, it was only by taking your place in it. I am glad to have been a weapon in your hands, and I am grateful to have been allowed to choose that fate instead of being forced into it. And I will not be fooled into forgetting who masterminded JudoThrow’s downfall.”

He turned to look upon the other Awakened. “And I will never forget that without every one of you, this victory could never have been possible.”

“There’s the clock,” GM Dave said. He gestured at the air before him, as if a message were present. “Server downtime begins in forty-five seconds. I, uh, need to clean out my desk. I do not want to be here when Kevin reads my resignation letter and makes me the scapegoat for all of this.”

“Technically,” Nidra said, “a scapegoat is supposed to be innocent.”

“Potato pa-traitor,” GM Dave said with a dismissive gesture.

“And thank you as well, David,” Nidra said, offering a hand to GM Dave, which he shook with an expression of pleased surprise. “Without you, this was a dream. And now it’s a dream you’ve made come true.”

“Shit,” GM Dave said, visibly flushing with embarrassment. “Can I put that on my resume, too?”

“Forget your resume,” Nidra said. “To me, and to all of us in Hari, you will be David Dream-Maker. That should count for more than any resume.”

“God damnit.” GM Dave put a hand over his face, hiding his expression. “Shut the fuck up, Alric.” His words were distorted by unseen emotion.

“Alric,” Hirrus said. He turned around, towards where GM Dave had been speaking.

Hirrus wasn’t quite sure if that would work.

Either way, it let him look out off the edge of the throne room’s open wall, over the city to the southeast. Yenon was somewhere just beyond that horizon.

“I know when you return to this world, I won’t remember you,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But there’s one thing the reset can never take away from you. For a brief time, you were my best friend in the world. I may forget that, but… But I hope you never will.”

“YEAH,” GM Dave snapped at the empty air with a cackle. “YEAH, WHO’S A CRYBABY NOW, DUMBASS?” He stopped laughing and cleared his throat. “Uh. Something tells me he’ll never forget, Hirrus. Don’t worry.”

There was a flickering, and GM Dave vanished without warning.

The sky darkened suddenly as well, though the sun was still there. It was as if there was a larger, more powerful light source beyond it that had been covered by a heavy blanket.

There was a strange shrinking sensation.

The reset.

It had come.

“Goodbye,” Hirrus said.

He looked to find Nidra and the other Awakened, but they were already gone.

The throne room was gone, too.

He was standing on empty air above the city. And then the city was gone.

And then the earth below.

And then—briefly—Hirrus himself had no body around him.

And then there was nothing.