Algoritm of oblivion
Юрий Третьяков

© Юрий Третьяков, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0065-6326-1

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

I. Prologue

The last rays of the sun, painting the sky in hues of crimson and violet, vanished beyond the horizon. The quiet suburban neighborhood slowly succumbed to twilight as darkness crept in. A blue delivery truck rounded the corner of the house next door.

Max Gromov, a lanky teenager with tousled chestnut hair, sat wrapped in a blanket on the veranda of his home, visibly bored. Resting his cheek on his hand, he idly watched the old vehicle.

“What a charming relic,” he murmured.

It was an old, rusted pickup truck, as if torn from the pages of a forgotten manga, with sharp body lines and round headlights that resembled eyes gazing at the world with undisguised weariness.

Unlike the standard, bright-yellow, self-driving delivery trucks, this one was driven by a human. And it stopped right in front of Max’s house, even though no one had ordered anything else for the day.

A sturdy man in a crumpled jacket climbed out of the cab, his face weathered and lined, as if marked forever by the imprint of hard labor. Ascending the steps to the veranda, he addressed the teenager:

“Max Gromov? Does he live here?”

“Yes, that’s me,” replied Max, involuntarily tensing.

“This is for you.” The courier handed the boy a small box and a tablet for a signature. The logo of “Dream” adorned the packaging – the same logo that plastered billboards throughout the city, promising unforgettable virtual adventures, relief from sorrow, and oblivion. Inside, it seemed, was a device for immersion in virtual reality, or VR, as it was commonly known.

“Who is this from?” Max asked, feeling like a character in a novel about to unfold.

“I don’t know,” the mailman shrugged. “There’s a note inside.” He pointed to the box, where a small envelope was tucked into a fold of the packaging, then turned and headed back to his truck.

Max tore open the envelope, and a white note fell into his palm, bearing the text:

“See you in the dream.” Signed: Grimnir.

A lump formed in Max’s throat. “Grimnir”… that was the gamertag of his father, who had died five years ago in a car accident.

“Wait!” Max jumped to his feet, but the truck sped away, leaving Max without an answer, only with questions that, like all mysteries, had a habit of accumulating like dust under the bed.

The biggest of which was: “Could he be alive?”

II. CITADEL OF DARKNESS

Five years prior…

The sun, dazzlingly bright during the day in this desolate virtual location, was already sinking towards the horizon, painting the sky in crimson and orange hues.

Above the battlefield, where thousands of players representing the forces of light and darkness clashed, hung a thick pall of smoke and dust. The ground beneath their feet was scarred with cracks and soaked in blood, littered with the shattered remnants of banners and the bodies of fallen comrades. Amidst this chaos, a clear line of defense was visible – the great Bastion of Darkness, rising like an impregnable rock face from the fortress wall around the city at the foot of the mountain, surrounded by countless armies of light.

The dark forces fiercely resisted. The air was pierced by bolts and arrows, like swarms of angry wasps, flying towards both the players and the non-player characters they commanded, driven by computer algorithms. Mercenary dwarves with their crossbows stood upon the city walls and the roofs of tall buildings. Like deadly automatons, they sent one bolt after another into the ranks of the besiegers.

Above them, invulnerable and unreachable as ghosts, elven eagles soared, blinding enemies with their sharp talons, tearing warriors from the fray and rending them asunder with their razor-sharp beaks. Their riders, the finest of elven archers, relentlessly rained arrows upon the enemy, searching the crowd for commanders and standard-bearers.

A roar. It drowned out the din of battle, pierced the heavens, shattered the earth, and made even the sturdiest walls tremble. It was the roar not merely of a beast, but of the very embodiment of fury – the Black Dragon, a colossal shadow eclipsing the setting sun above the Bastion of Darkness. With its flames, it incinerated entire squads. Its scales, like obsidian, absorbed the last rays of the day, turning into burning lava when struck by catapult projectiles and flashes of light magic. Its rider, a demon king, seemed a mere speck against the vast bulk of the dragon in the twilight sky.

At the heart of the battle, like the wind itself, the Emperor of the warriors of light rode upon the back of a giant griffin. His golden armor gleamed in the rays of the setting sun, like a beacon of hope in the all-encompassing darkness. He held in his hand a sword blazing with holy fire, from which demons recoiled and fled in terror. His face reflected the determination to fight to the end and the bitterness over the irreplaceable losses of the NPC warriors of light who, having entered the battle at his command, would never see another sunrise. But he knew that the fate of this virtual world depended on the outcome of this battle.

Beneath him, on the ground, humans and orcs fought side by side, forgetting old grudges in order to battle a true evil. Their swords and axes savagely crushed the dark forces who dared to venture into the open field and give battle beneath the city walls, showing no mercy. They fought against legions of dwarfs, clad in armor as impregnable as stone, yielding not an inch of ground, as if their feet had taken root. Giant demons, summoned by the witches from the rearguard of the dark army, hurled fireballs into the advancing ranks. Their curses withered warriors in mere seconds. Against them, the best mages of the empire invoked the elements. Flashes of lightning, gusts of storm-force wind, and gravitational waves shook the battlefield, claiming ever more lives.

At sea, at the foot of the cliffs, an equally fierce battle raged. The mighty ships of the sea-faring humans, with their tall masts and blue sails, fought furiously against the dark galleys teeming with demonic creatures. Sirens, beautiful and deadly, sang their enchanting songs, luring sailors to embrace the abyss.

A giant, standing on the shore in a desperate attempt to stem the armada of the advancing fleet, turned towards the sea and hurled a boulder onto the deck of one of the ships. The frigate shattered into pieces, but this could not prevent the landing of the remaining troops on the shore. Short warriors with long, curved swords and straw hats rushed forward to aid the orcs and humans, drawing the demons’ attention to themselves.

The battle raged on all levels; the sky, land, and sea were engulfed in the flames of war. This was not merely a clash of armies; it was a battle for the very essence of the world, for the right of light to dominate and the right of darkness to exist in this insane chaos.

Every warrior, be they elf, human, or orc, understood that this battle could be their last.

Of this battle, bards would compose a song. It would be a song of the siege – a song of strength, of hope, of despair, a song that would echo in the hearts of all who fought on this battlefield, a song that would forever remember and tell of the great struggle between light and darkness.

And just when it seemed that a fragile equilibrium had settled on the battlefield, the unthinkable happened.

The massive gates of the Fortress of Darkness, hitherto impenetrable, swung open with a grinding screech. Within, yawned a blackness, like the maw of a monster, ready to devour all living things.

For a moment, confusion reigned among the ranks of the attackers. This was not supposed to happen. It was not part of the plan.

But the confusion quickly gave way to a battle cry. The Emperor raised his sword, pointing the way into the depths of the city.

And the battle, which had until recently unfolded at the walls, surged into the streets of the Fortress with relentless force. Now there were no clear front lines; battles were fought for every house, for every alleyway. This was a fight in the very heart of darkness, the final battle for the world.

The hordes of light, like predatory beasts, surged forward, showing no mercy. The Emperor on his griffin, like a god of war, led them in the attack, his sword burning demons and witches like a fiery scourge. Elves and orcs, united in their hatred of darkness, crushed the resistance of dwarfs and giants. The sea-faring humans, with their long blades, desperately cut down summoned creatures in the narrow alleyways. Eagles, having no other targets, hurled themselves upon the Black Dragon.

Despite the fierce resistance, the forces of darkness gradually retreated, pushed back towards the center of the city, towards their last stronghold – the Castle of Darkness. This was a grim, cyclopean castle, built of black stone, as if grown from the abyss itself. It loomed over the city like an ominous beacon, a reminder of the former power of the dark forces.

Gradually, retreating in combat, the last defenders of the city – witches, demons, dwarfs, and a few remaining giants – began to filter into the narrow passages leading to the castle. Their faces were covered with soot and blood, their eyes burned with despair, but their movements were marked by determination. They covered the retreat of civilians – all those who could not fight: women, the elderly, and children. For the dark forces were not caricatured villains; they had families. Not every one of them was a warrior. Their city had been living its everyday life until the attack of the light forces.

The Emperor of Light, noticing the retreat, ordered an intensification of the assault, hoping to finally break the resistance of the dark forces. However, the warriors of light encountered fierce, almost suicidal resistance from the last defenders, who fought even knowing that inevitable death awaited them.

When the last of the retreating dark forces crossed the threshold of the castle, the massive gates slammed shut with a thunderous crash. The defenders, realizing that there was no turning back, began to barricade them from the inside, sealing their own doom. The Emperor, in anger and fury, ordered the castle to be stormed, but he understood that this would be a long and bloody battle.

Imperial scouts reported that civilians, under the cover of the retreating troops, were withdrawing through a sprawling system of tunnels beneath the city. This was an ancient route that led to the mountains and further into the dark lands, a route that the defenders of the city had decided to use in their final hour.

Locked within the castle, the last defenders of the Fortress of Darkness, knowing that they were doomed, prepared to put up a desperate fight to buy time for their fellow citizens. Their sacrifice would be paid with their lives, but they knew that this was the only way to save even a few of their people.

And in this cacophony of battle, where the cries of the wounded mingled with the clash of metal, the roar of the dragon, the echoes of battles in the streets, and the thunder of blows against the sealed castle gates, where the air reeked of gunpowder, blood, and magic, a figure appeared against the backdrop of the raging battle, at the center of the last bastion of resistance, on the wall of the Castle of Darkness. Tall, clad in black armor, with a helmet crowned with horns, and a face contorted with fury and scorn. It was the Dark Lord, Grimnir, the last of the mighty rulers of the dark realm. In his hand, he held an ancient staff, from which streamed dark, dense energy.

Suddenly, on his griffin, the Emperor of Light hovered right before the walls of the castle. This was not merely an NPC, but one of the most experienced and powerful players, whose name resounded throughout all the virtual reality worlds created by the “Dream” corporation.

Alex, reining in his griffin, lowered his flaming sword. And his voice, amplified by magic, thundered across the battlefield, drowning out even the noise of the fight:

“Grimnir! I demand that you cease this pointless resistance! Surrender the Book of Fate and yield! Your army is broken, your city has fallen!”

Grimnir laughed, a bitter, piercing laugh that echoed through the surrounding streets, smoky and scorched by the flames of battle.

“Alex, you still understand nothing! This world is built on the law of equilibrium, and neither side can achieve a final victory!” he snarled, his voice full of hatred and contempt. “You think you can command me? You and your pathetic allies are merely virtual ghosts, puppets in the hands of a corporation that craves to possess the Book! It will never be yours! The blood of my warriors will stain these stones, but the Book will remain untouched!”

“You know that this is futile,” Alex replied calmly, his gaze firm and unwavering. “Your forces are broken; you are doomed. Besides, you do not understand the danger that the Book represents in your hands. No single person can wield such power; it is a temptation that cannot be resisted. Surrender it to me, and transfer your shares to the board of directors, and I guarantee you and the remnants of your army the opportunity to retreat, a safe passage through our ranks.”

Grimnir abruptly brandished the staff, made from the bone of an ancient dragon, and black tentacles burst from the ground, like living, writhing snakes, trying to seize the griffin and throw its rider from its back.

“Your promises are lies, woven from hypocrisy, much like the adherence of your motley army to the true ideals of the warriors of light!” Grimnir spat out. “The blood of the dark forces will be spilled to the last drop, defending this city, but I will not give you the Book of Fate! May it rather burn in the flames, be reduced to ashes and dust, than fall into your hands!”

The griffin roared, flapping its wings powerfully, evading the attack of the dark tentacles. Alex, never taking his eyes off Grimnir, raised his sword, enveloped in radiant flames:

“Then you leave yourself no choice but defeat. And you know it perfectly well, Grimnir. Your pride has blinded you, and you cannot see the obvious.”

“In every defeat lies the seed of future victory!” Grimnir roared, his eyes burning with a wild fire. “And even if I fall, darkness will rise again!”

A tense silence fell, like the calm before a storm. Alex and Grimnir stood facing each other, embodying the eternal struggle between light and darkness, good and evil, upon which hinged the fate not only of the virtual world but also, perhaps, of all reality dependent on the balance of power in DREAM WORLD. The wind howled, whipping capes and banners, and the approach of an imminent resolution could be felt in the air.

Grimnir, brandishing his staff, created a fiery barrier, soaring into the sky as a wall of flame, cutting him off from the army of light, and with a wild cry, full of despair and madness, he plunged into the depths of the castle. Alex, with a heavy sigh, realized that further negotiations were pointless, merely a waste of time that could cost his warriors their lives. He signaled his troops by raising his sword above his head, and the storming of the castle began anew, with a ferocity never seen before. The gates, reinforced with magic and steel, were smashed open by mighty battering rams, and the army of light surged inside, like an enraged river.

Despite the fierce resistance, the forces of light, led by the dismounted Emperor, banishing darkness with his flaming sword, relentlessly advanced, capturing one hall after another. Every inch of territory had to be won in battle, spilling blood and sweat. The last defenders of the Fortress of Darkness fought like possessed men, under the influence of dark forces and the power of Grimnir, but their ranks dwindled before their eyes, like snow under a scorching sun. Every step was taken with difficulty, every swing of the sword brought wounds and pain, but they did not surrender, willing to give their lives for their lord and his ideals.

With screams and curses, they retreated ever deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the castle – a maze of stone and darkness – until, finally, they reached its very heart: an ancient temple, built even before the creation of the Fortress. It was a grim, majestic structure, whose walls were covered with runes and dark symbols. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and decay, and shadows, seemingly possessing a will of their own, lurked in the corners. In the center of the temple stood an altar, made of black obsidian, like a concentrate of evil itself, pulsating with dark energy.

Grimnir and the surviving defenders, the last handful of warriors, witches, and demons, burst into the temple, and with a thunderous crash, the massive doors, reinforced with dark magic, slammed shut behind them. The forces of light surrounded the temple from all sides, but breaching the magical barrier proved no easy task.

“Alex, stop!” Grimnir cried out. “At this level, the death of any of us could be final. In this world and in the real one!”

Alex stood before the temple. He saw the hatred and despair in the eyes of the last retreating defenders but understood that this battle was not yet over… He knew that within the temple, along with Grimnir, could be the Book of Fate, a mysterious artifact, any entry in which could change the very world of the game and make it as the company’s leadership deemed fit.

Now, as an ominous silence descended upon the battlefield, it became clear that the forces of light and darkness were about to clash in a final showdown.

From the ranks of the warriors of light, an NPC mage in white robes stepped forward and stood before the emperor:

“My emperor, attacking the temple is forbidden,” he bowed before the leader of the light forces. “Blood spilled on sacred ground will turn into a curse. We will incur the wrath of the gods!”

Alex carefully examined the temple, its grim majesty, its ancient runes, and frowned. He knew that this was a sacred place of the dark forces and also knew that, according to the rules of this world, it was forbidden to spill blood on sacred ground. However, the desire to obtain the Book of Fate had blinded him. He stared at the sealed doors of the temple, knowing that Grimnir was inside. His hand, clutching his sword, trembled with excitement, but his will was as firm as a rock. He decided to go against all the rules.

“Take the temple!” he roared, his voice, filled with authority, thundered across the battlefield. “Spare no one! Let blood be spilled, if necessary! The Book of Fate must belong to us!”

For the first time in history, the warriors of light, in their fanatical pursuit of victory, began the assault on the shrine of the dark forces. And so, blood flowed onto the sacred stones of the altar and the planks of the temple floor. Red and thick, it spread across the ancient runes, staining them and simultaneously imbuing them with its power, summoning the demonic forces slumbering within the depths of the temple. And just as the final blow struck Grimnir’s body, the unleashed dark magic, gushing out from within him like a fiery wave, threw back the attackers.

Through the cracking of splintering boards and the roar of demonic incantations, seemingly echoed by the temple walls themselves, came the screams of wounded, agonizing, and dying warriors, consumed by flame and darkness.

And at that moment, the world shuddered, as if from an earthquake of unimaginable power. A deafening roar ripped through the city, and the sky seemed to split apart, revealing an abyss filled with chaos and darkness. The wind intensified, turning into a hurricane, tearing tiles from roofs and felling trees. Everything around grew dark, as if the sun had forever abandoned this world, plunging it into eternal twilight.

With a cry of horror erupting from the ranks of the advancing warriors, the unthinkable began. The wounds of the last defenders of the temple began to heal, and their eyes glowed with a red light, their bodies began to rot, saturated with the necrotic energy seeping from the sacred ground of the dark forces. The dark and light forces who had fallen that day rose from the dead, turning into animated corpses, possessed by a thirst for blood and flesh. The zombies, risen from oblivion, recognized neither friend nor foe, throwing themselves at all who still breathed.

Panic gripped the warriors of light. They, recoiling in horror from their former comrades, who had been transformed into walking dead and with whom they had fought shoulder to shoulder, fled the city. The battle devolved into chaos, where the living fought against the dead, and light clashed with the darkness it had itself spawned.

Alex, realizing the horror of what had happened, silently watched the unfolding nightmare. He understood that he had disregarded the rules of the world, and this had led to catastrophe. He tried to turn back, running and pushing his warriors aside, but the zombies, driven by their bloodlust, began to swarm over him like flies. Reaching his griffin, he took flight, but the risen dead, like a swarm of vile insects, clung to his mount. Evil hands reached for him, tearing flesh from its wings, and the griffin, losing altitude, crashed to the ground, smashing against the stones.

Emperor Alex I, founder of the empire, scourge of the dark forces, once a dazzling hero, was buried beneath a wave of dead bodies, and his flaming sword was extinguished, like a spark in the night.

A gray mist descended upon the city, shrouding it like a shroud. It became a place where eternal twilight reigned, a place where past and present were intertwined in agony, light and darkness mingled in a primordial gray haze.

The city, once illuminated by light, was plunged into impenetrable twilight. The thick fog, enveloping the streets, swallowed all sounds and cries, leaving only silence and horror. The forces of light, in panic, fled, leaving behind their fallen comrades and a city gripped by terror. All who had perished on that day were turned into the undead and filled the streets of the city, hidden in the eternal fog.

Recollections of those who witnessed the events:

Stephanie. Level 26 Elf.

The fog. It was everywhere – thick, cold, piercing to the bone. Something ancient, evil, as if a living creature. It enveloped me, muffled sounds, leaving only the dull, agonizing beating of my own heart. A heart that pounded like a trapped bird.

I couldn’t see anything but the fog, but I felt it – heavy, sticky, steeped in the smell of blood and… something else. Something putrid, sweet, disgustingly alluring. It was terrible, but… I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it. I couldn’t move.

I was hiding in a narrow passage, pressed against the cold, damp wall. A few meters away were others – ghostly figures, dissolving into the fog, whispering something in a language I didn’t understand. Fear was not just a feeling; it was a living, cold entity, constricting my soul.

But even stronger than the fear was the pain. A sharp, burning pain in my chest that echoed in every cell of my body. I clenched my fists, trying to suppress it, trying to concentrate on something else, on something other than this relentless, all-consuming horror.

Right now, all that mattered was survival. Just to keep… breathing.

Something touched my hand – a cold, sticky touch. I shuddered, preparing for the worst. It was… horrible. But not deadly. Just… strange.

I peered into the fog. In the dim light, I made out a figure. It was inhumanly tall, its movements – slow, clumsy. It wore tattered clothes, and its face… its face was as if covered in an unearthly shroud, a white fog that I felt so close. Suddenly, the creature screamed opening a huge black yawn and I rushed to run without looking back away from this city. One thing I knew for sure that I will never return here again.

Milfhanter38. Professional Game Reviewer.

OMG! It was just… EPIC FAIL! I’ve never seen anything like it! Imagine, you’re right in the thick of it, the most epic siege of the last boss – the Fortress of Darkness – and then everything breaks down, as if someone cut the server cable!

At first, it was pretty standard, basically. The forces of light, you know, charging ahead, grinding mobs, kicking dwarf and witch ass, I’m in the front ranks, of course, and then… Whoa, the gates open! I’m like, “WTF?! Was that a trigger?!” No one expected that twist, honestly!

Well, as they say, go-go-go! We rush inside, and it’s… just a hellish inferno! Roofs are falling, stones are flying, and everywhere, like out of a cornucopia, ice spells and fireballs are raining down. The monsters are like, completely out of control! But we’re – crushing it! Passing through the horde, we push our way to the very heart, to the final boss, and there…

Grimnir, that bastard, is chilling in some temple, like he’s on a bench, and then the Emperor – our dude, Alex – with the words “I’ll carry everyone!” decides to just go straight in. Haha, noob! Looks like no one even did a guide for this fight, not even the top players!

As soon as I heard his order, I knew it was some kind of bug in the matrix. Like, you can’t spill blood on holy ground, everyone knows that! But he, that pay-to-win power-user, with a cry of “For the Book!” – well, you understand what happened next – attacks. And, of course, a hidden trigger goes off!

And then… real trash begins! Undead, zombies – where did they come from?! I was in shock! A bug, definitely a bug, the devs failed the patch! Poor Emperor with the griffin, how those walking corpses swarmed them, it was almost a shame… well, not a shame, but… you know!

And then, bam! Everything is plunged into fog, as if someone cut off the power, and all hell breaks loose. We, like noobs, scatter in panic in different directions, praying to our god of RNG, because, well, where, in what guide will you read about something like this?!

The most epic battle turned into pure horror, just like in that creepy alpha version! Bugs, glitches, crashes, zombie apocalypse! It was just… unbelievably cool!

And now… I’m locked in this twilight city, and everything around me seems frozen. And I’m like, “What’s next?!” This is awesome! Surely the devs have prepared something VERY cool for us! What level? What quest?! I can’t wait to find out!

So I, as the last surviving noob, am waiting for my epic quest! But it is not there. I just stare at the wall with the eyes of the undead and nothing happens my character became a mob and nothing works. Only messages and invitations to the game can be sent. But what invitations are there after this… I will not recommend this game to anyone. So much time was spent on leveling up and everything is down the drain…

Igor. Regular at a themed bar. Believes that “Dream” virtual worlds can kill players.

Alright, you’ve bought me another couple of beers, so listen up, imagine that I’m some seasoned bard by the fire telling you this story.

I arrived later than all the top players that day, I guess. Frankly, I just overslept and showed up when the sun, dim, like the eye of a dying giant, was already sinking towards the horizon. And the warriors were fighting knee-deep in mud and blood and were ready to collapse into that mud for a short respite, despite the risk of being trampled by their own comrades. The sky, like a piece of ragged cloth smeared with bloody sunset stains, was darkening, and it seemed that it was all over for the day. Neither side would be victorious. Everywhere were the cries of the wounded and the roar of warriors fighting at their limits. You feel how the stench of artificial sweat and rancid oil from thousands of bodies crawls into your nostrils. You want to drop everything, turn around, and run away from this place.

But down there, lay that medieval city, the Citadel of Darkness, craved by our clan leaders like a lollipop by a child. I’d call it the Citadel of Despair, to be honest. Stone walls, as if they had been torn from the ground, black, cracked, like the skin of a leper. And they emanated not darkness, but a cheap and hackneyed idea about the opposition of light and darkness.

And against this backdrop, you see, stands that damn Alex. The Emperor of the Light, or whatever he is… A hero, for Christ’s sake. Sitting on his griffin, like an ornament on a Christmas tree, all snowy white, shining as if he’s filming a toothpaste commercial. He’s the embodiment of a cliché, you understand? A cardboard hero. And his eyes… there’s no pain, no doubt, nothing human in them. Just stupid, senseless determination, like someone who’s completely out of his mind.

And this so-called hero has gathered an entire army of freaks. Elves, of course, all so graceful, but behind their backs, I bet, sit fat nerds eating chips. Orcs – just total trash, sweaty, smelly, ugly, I don’t understand who even plays them, but they have huge two-handed axes, which is probably cool. And the humans, as always, are the average, gray and dreary, like the stones that pave the streets of this dark city.

And they all, like possessed, are charging at this citadel, howling at the top of their lungs, waving iron things around, thinking they are making history. But in essence, they’re just playing children’s games, and they don’t even feel disgusted with themselves.

And from the city constantly come out the same freaks, only in black. dwarfs, also with axes, but small ones, goblins with knives, and gloomy dark knights, the most cool type, but if you look closely, you can see the same typical models as everyone else, both dark and light. And so they chop away, like madmen, and everywhere, this fake blood splatters. As if cherry syrup had been poured on the pavement.

Above them, like vultures, circle a dragon and eagles, and at sea there is also complete epic. Storm, cannon shots, ramming blows from galleys and boarding parties. Death flies everywhere.

And this Alex, on his griffin, is rushing right into the thick of the battle. Fighting, cutting everyone down right and left. Who does that? It’s not realistic. Commanders should command, not participate in the battle. No one will believe that.

Okay, fast forward through this sideshow. The battle is over. Well, how is it over – one pile of pixels buried another, and now, in place of the battlefield, there is only stench and virtual blood. The Empire, what was it called, the Golden Griffin, won. Well, if you can call it a victory. Just the whites have fewer corpses than those in black. Although the losses on both sides are just huge. On the battlefield in front of the city and on the streets leading to the castle, there is nowhere to set foot, everything is littered with the bodies of the dark and light mixed together. Now you can’t even tell who is who.

But it doesn’t matter in the end, someone always wins, and someone falls, and all this is a farce, a game. When you turn off the VR, all this will disappear.

And so, the last scraps of defenders, like rats cornered, are hiding in this temple. I don’t know what they’re up to there. Probably think the gods will protect them, or some other heresy. They are covering the retreat of the rest who didn’t manage to become fertilizer, but where are they retreating to, into pixels?

And then he, the Emperor, descends from his griffin-steed. All clean, as if he hadn’t even fought, as if he just came out of a spa, although in reality he should have been covered in dirt, blood, and shit up to his ears a long time ago. But this is a “virtual world,” so no one cares.

And from the castle, like a devil out of a box, flies out some Grimnir. The master of the city. Looks like a clichéd lord of darkness written off from an old book about hobbits. Stooped, scarred, as if he had been bitten by all the local fauna. And in his eyes, you know, there is no hatred, but some kind of fatigue, like a taxi driver after a night shift.

And so, this damn dialogue begins.

“Grimnir,” this Alex drones on, like a broken record. “Surrender the Book of Fate, and I will spare your people.”

As if anyone had ever spared anyone in this virtual world.

And then… Role-playing and immersion are important in the game, you understand? And they start arguing like office plankton near the water cooler. They’re talking about company affairs, old grievances. Who didn’t share the shares, who squeezed the bonus… No, well, I understand that you are – people of the company, whose role is to bring players together in an epic battle of good and evil, arranging a global event. But work according to the scenario, read the text without deviations, you are not alone here, you are not playing for yourself.

Finally, Grimnir, with a rasp in his voice, waves him off, as if shooing away a pesky fly. “The Book of Fates will never leave this place.”

Well, of course, it won’t leave. It’s the plot, how would they change it?

“Then you have left me no choice,” says Alex, and his voice is like that of a robot. Zero emotions. – “Kill everyone in the temple! And take the book!”

And then Grimnir spouts some heresy about death in reality if you get killed in the game at some high level. I rewatched it a hundred times in the recording, but I never understood what he meant. That was clearly off-script too. And their levels, by the way, are off the charts, they have been in the game since day one.

But that other guy doesn’t care, because he is invincible, that definitely won’t affect him. The enemy is trapped, and he has a numerical advantage, yeah. And here it is, the most “heroic” decision! Kill everyone, so you can take the book. This isn’t raising money for cat food on crowdfunding, this is harsh virtual reality for you!

And you know what? All these “heroes” in armor, all this “empire” with its white flags, they all happily carry out the order. As if they were just waiting for it. They forgot, probably, that they wanted to “save the world,” not butcher people. Well, yeah, it’s just a game, so no one cares.

They storm into this temple, like hungry dogs on a bone. Cutting everyone down indiscriminately. Old men, women, children, who hadn’t managed to escape. And no morality, no meaning.

And all this just happens, you understand? Just like that, with a snap of the fingers. And we, watch it, and like we should feel something. But what is there to feel? Nausea from meaninglessness? Disgust for ourselves for allowing this to continue? I don’t know. But this is definitely not heroism. And it’s definitely not about glory. Just another piece of shit in this damned, virtual, and so similar to the real world.

But suddenly this world trembled, as if someone had kicked the server. And from the temple, like from hell, crawled out these… undead. Not some stylish zombies from Hollywood movies. No, this is complete trash. Rotten corpses, with falling limbs, with eyes full of hatred and some kind of stupid, animal malice. And the smell, was just terrible, as if it was not in the game.

And so our clean-cut hero Alex, realized that he, damn it, had miscalculated badly. He jumped on his griffin, that same one, white and shiny, and tried to get the hell out of there. As if nothing had happened.

But those dead, swarmed over the griffin, tearing its feathers, gnawing at its flesh, at this virtual flesh, which probably doesn’t smell of anything, but the sight of it all is still nauseating.

The griffin, that white horse on which Alex rode, crashed like a shot bird. Scattered into pixels, and, our hero, simply disappeared. Vanished under hundreds of dark monsters. As if he had never been there.

And the city… the city was covered in gray fog. As if someone had turned off the lights on the stage, and everything became gray, dull, dead. Eternal twilight. Or it was just a server failure. I don’t know.

But the strangest thing is not that. The strange thing started later, in reality.

They both died. Shortly after those events. Just as Grimnir had predicted. I saw articles about it on the internet afterwards. The one who played the emperor died in a plane crash. And Grimnir’s body was never found after his car fell from a bridge.

And the company “Dream” does not comment on this in any way, at all. They even use the aura of mystery to promote the game. Hello, two people are missing! Don’t you care?

And after that, you know, I don’t play those games anymore.

III. THE PARTY WASN’T A SUCCESS

When Max entered the house with the VR box in his hands, his friends, invited for his birthday, were in the same poses he had left them in when he had left. Artem, the 15-year-old son of Aunt Olga, sat on the sofa in the living room with the projector remote in his hands, and his gaze was fixed on the broadcast on the wall, where footage from a documentary-entertainment show dedicated to retro-battles in virtual worlds was unfolding. “Legends of Online Battles” was one of those shows that constantly inserts analytics from VR experts and archival interviews with eyewitnesses. The red-haired girl next door named Daria sat here nearby in an armchair, staring at her phone, as if trying to find salvation from the boredom of the surrounding world in it. Today, she was the personification of the apathy that seemed to have infected the entire generation.

“What’s that? What did you get?” Artem, who had recently celebrated his fifteenth birthday, whom Aunt Olga and Max’s mother had repeatedly tried to befriend by bringing them together, jumped up from his chair, his brown eyes sparkling with curiosity, seeing the gadget. He had dark hair and swarthy skin, inherited from his father, Aunt Olga’s husband, Vladislav.

“Is that VR? So you can join us in the raid on the ‘cursed lands’! Join us while it’s not too late, we need everyone. Of course, you won’t be of much use, but you’ll still get an achievement as a participant. Such global events rarely happen. So don’t miss your chance. This time, the light forces will definitely reach the castle and destroy the Twilight King!”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be playing this. I don’t want to be a zombie stuck online for days. I want, you know… to still be in reality,” Max put the box on the table.

“What are you talking about, it’s the best game of all time, okay, before you couldn’t play because of parental controls and age restrictions, but now what? Have you heard who leads the clan ‘Mercenaries from the North’ – Boris and Vic! Bullies from our school! Maybe we can start a acquaintance, we will raise our social rating at school. And such events are rare. Come on, they gathered all the adventurers, received help from the imperial bot-legion, and all the kingdoms of light sent their best warriors. What’s the point of living if not for such battles? Daria and I would first help you level up your skills, take you through dungeons, raise a couple of levels together. And into battle!” Artem seemed to be a little hooked on games. Even today, when he came to visit, he spent half the day in the game chat and on forums dedicated to the game. Like Daria. “The whole summer is ahead, what will you do if you don’t play?”

“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll sign up for the archaeological expedition with our historian Fedorov. It seems like he’s recruiting people again now,” Max replied.

Daria, who had been staring listlessly out the window, cast a fleeting, interested glance at Max. A spark flickered in her eyes, as if she had momentarily seen in him something different from the rest, something deeper and more real. But she immediately returned to her contemplation.

“To that old alcoholic? Hauling stones all summer? Give it up, there are only losers and nerds there.”

“The cake will be ready in 5 minutes!” Max’s mother’s voice came from the kitchen.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up, I’ll just take this upstairs.” Max pointed to the VR.

Max’s room was in such a state of disarray that even the most experienced chaos researchers would probably have given up upon seeing it. Things were scattered everywhere, each seemingly trying to tell its own story, but like Max himself, they weren’t too sure what exactly they wanted to convey.

In a place of honor stood a trophy with figurines of fighters, won at a martial arts tournament where Max, as usual, took not first but third place. It was a pretty impressive achievement, except that his persistence in training lasted only until he realized that martial arts lacked magic and dragons. The trophy seemed to know about his short-lived passion and looked at its owner with bitterness.

The computer, on which an unfinished program was open, reminded him that Max had once dreamed of becoming a great programmer like his father. However, as often happens with dreams, he soon lost interest in them, leaving the project in a state of “still in progress.” In this place, technology and inspiration met to exchange glances before parting forever.

A small green tree – a bonsai – stood in the corner, like a wise elder who, despite all the chaos around, remained calm. Max sometimes came to it to reflect on life, but in the end, he often just forgot to water it. The bonsai seemed to know that its fate was to witness the strange reflections of a young philosopher who didn’t always remember his responsibilities.

A poster from a NASCAR race that Max had once attended with his father hung on the wall, as a reminder of a happy day. It always smiled when he looked at it, as if trying to say: “Here, this was real fun, not all this…”.

An electric guitar, standing on a stand, waited like an unnoticed muse who knew that her time would come, but was in no hurry. Music was his passion, but, like everything else, it often remained in the shadows.

On the bookshelf, among textbooks on mathematics and astrophysics, a mythological encyclopedia and treatises by ancient military leaders peacefully coexisted. Max, as a true seeker of knowledge, believed that one day all these books would tell him something important, although for now they were just gathering dust, waiting for their time.

This whole room created an atmosphere of constant searching, where each passion became just a stop on the way to something more. Max knew that sooner or later he would find something that truly captivated him, and then his room would become a reflection of his true “self” – or, at least, would become a little more organized. But, as the classic said: “Everything comes in time for those who know how to wait.”

All this accumulation of objects left very little space for life, so the furniture in the room consisted only of a bed, a table, and a wardrobe.

Gifts, given personally and passed through mutual acquaintances, lay here in the corner of the room, unopened in factory packaging and bright ribbons:

– A new laptop from his mother.

– A book on psychology from Aunt Olga.

– A set of tools for soldering microcircuits from Uncle Vladislav. They had been friends with his father since school. And his father often said that if it weren’t for him and his talent for handling computer hardware, VR technology would have reached real implementation 10 years later, or maybe it wouldn’t have appeared at all, remaining at the level of an idea.

– Collectible figurines of characters from the game were brought by Artem.

Max never understood this fascination of almost adult and some completely adult people with collecting figurines of characters from films and games. But now he also became the owner of a figurine of the “Twilight King”, some witch in black flowing rags and a dragon.

– A watch was sent by the director and majority shareholder of the company DREAM Inc. – Alexander First. He owned the company, one of the founders of which was Max’s father.

The gift from Daria was unexpected. A package of condoms tied with a blue ribbon. “Condoms for a Condom” read the inscription in black marker on it. Next was a smiley face in the shape of a heart.

“Closer – further” – Daria was perfectly fluent in this game. All evening – icy silence, but then this gift…, the gift clearly hinted at a continuation. Or was it just a mockery? What did she mean by this?

He could have guessed about this for the rest of the evening, but now he was occupied by another mystery.

Max put the VR with the rest of the gifts. He took the augmented reality glasses from the floor and went to the news portal:

News Headlines 02/03/2050

– Globalization Isn’t What We Wanted for Breakfast! Antiglobalists gather for the largest rally of the decade. However, the protests promise to become not only an expression of discontent, but also the main cultural event of the year with performances by famous artists and an extensive entertainment program.

– Cinema: Virtual Reality Changes Perception of Films VR-technologies from the company “Dream” are changing the TV series industry – viewers do not just watch, but experience history. But how do you bring them back to the usual boring real world and send them to work in the office, after they have been heroes all weekend, saving the world from evil season after season?

– Breakthrough in Psychology: Scientists Developed a New Method of Treating Depression A new method of neurostimulation promises to relieve depression by reprogramming the brain. Will everyone finally be able to be happy just by pressing a button?

– Superheroes on Minimum Wage: How eSportsmen Save the World From Boredom eSports has been recognized as an official profession, allowing you to count on a minimum wage from the state. Now, teenagers who have not finished school become not only opinion leaders and idols of youth, influencing the minds of an entire generation, but also respected members of society whose work is finally officially appreciated.

– Personality for Rent: Who Owns Our Data? Experts raise the alarm: personal information is the new and most valuable asset. How to protect yourself in the digital ocean.

Quickly swiping away news about antiglobalist protests, cinema, scientific achievements, he went to the archival section.

He typed in the search engine: “Mikhail Gromov Dream tunnel accident.”

He reopened the articles about his father’s death, those that still made it to the web, despite attempts by the company to “hush up” the matter. He had reread them a hundred times before and had already promised himself not to do it again, but today he returned to them again.

Several years before his father disappeared, he had a falling out with his wife, Max’s mother, withdrew from work at the company, and moved to some backwater. Tatiana accused him of domestic violence and drunkenness, although Max was ready to vouch that nothing of the sort had happened. Rather the opposite. He remembered one quarrel, but it happened because Tatiana was communicating too closely with her yoga instructor. Then there was a conversation in raised tones and he and his mother moved out after that. His father bought a new house. In the course of the divorce, the company severed relations with the developer who had gained a bad reputation, which could cast a shadow on them as well. In the end, he also disappeared from the information field, telling those media outlets that were still willing to listen to him that he was working on some new project in the field of artificial intelligence. After that, his communication with the outside world ceased for many years.

After a while, he and Tatiana seemed to have even improved their relationship, and his father was supposed to come to their house for Max’s 10th birthday. Was supposed to, but didn’t.

The car was found 3 days later at the bottom of the bay, but the body was never found. For several years he was considered missing, then declared dead. His fortune, which mainly consisted of a package of shares in the company “Dream”, passed to Tatiana. As far as he knew, the additional listing of shares annually reduced her share in the company, but they were still not poor.

The bracelet on his hand vibrated. An icon of an incoming call from the contact “Uncle Vlad” was reflected in the augmented reality glasses, obscuring the printed material and a photo of the crashed SUV.

“Hello, Uncle Vladislav. Why didn’t you come today?”

After his mother’s divorce from his father, Vladislav was a frequent guest in their house for a while, as was Olga, but then, for some reason, his mother stopped wanting to see him, and their relationship became very strained.

“Hello Max, sorry I couldn’t make it, there was a big commotion at the company and for once they called me back again. So I called as soon as I was free. And I congratulate you, you are now of age. You can work, sign contracts… an important milestone in your life…”

“And what could have happened in the company that they pulled you off of your well-deserved retirement?”

“I’m still the best specialist in hardware, if you remember…”

“Of course, my father always said the same thing, so what’s the commotion about?”

“Is Tatiana far away?”

“Well, she’s home, but… she’s not nearby and definitely can’t hear.”

“In short, just don’t tell her, but someone logged into the game under your father’s account. And was even online for a minute and forty seconds today. Can you imagine?”

Max froze, his heart beating faster.

“And why did this cause such a commotion in the company?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“This is the Twilight King, the main antagonist of the game right now. And he may have been controlled by some hacker for more than a minute… Everyone there just went crazy… Can you imagine what could have started? He could have ordered the army of the undead to move on the capital or millions of in-game gold could have been dumped on the market, launching hyperinflation, or the ‘dark ones’ could have acquired monstrous artifacts from his vault, completely breaking the balance of the game. You know, we basically don’t control the game worlds, thanks to your father’s ideas about a completely self-regulating system, we only provide access to the game and ensure order, in a small territory like the capital and the main cities of the empire, and even then only by game methods. And here is a full-scale catastrophe… and we still have the old advertising contract in force, according to which we are obliged to exchange in-game currency for real money! Can you imagine what a scandal it would be if we had to abruptly abandon this? And the massive ‘final’ deaths of players at the hands of the undead within the ‘safe’ cities in front of the NPCs and the loss of accounts would not contribute to the popularization of the game and positive reviews, we would simply be eaten alive, sued…”

“Wait, but could someone log in under his account? Is that technically possible?”

“That’s what I was invited to answer. Theoretically, no. It’s impossible to pass authorization with only a name and password now. There is a check based on the location points of the electronic chips in the body, which is impossible to repeat, they are scattered through the bloodstream and fixed randomly during initialization for each person individually. And not only that, there is a check based on ID, physical address, biometrics, and other factors that artificial intelligence analyzes when connecting. Maybe it was just a system failure, I don’t know. Or… but this is not a phone conversation.”

“What time did he log into the game?”

“3:32 PM.”

Max fell silent. That was the time when cameras recorded the car falling from the bridge – he had looked at the photo with the time recorded in the picture that hit the media a hundred times. And there could be no error in that. Another coincidence?

“I was given VR today,” Max finally said.

“Congratulations. A great gift for your fifteenth birthday. I’m even a little jealous. I remember my first immersion, it’s unforgettable. Another world in all its glory…”

“The sender signed as Grimnir.”

“Your father’s nick? Yes, that’s strange. Very strange.”

“Tell me, is this device for immersing in VR, can it be dangerous, for health or can it somehow harm me?”

“Theoretically, no. It only reads and transmits signals, and also broadcasts theta waves to keep you asleep. But the game server controls everything, you will be thrown into a normal sleep in any case after a 2-hour game session. It’s no more dangerous than wired headphones.”

“No more dangerous than what?”

“It’s such a device, it was used to listen to music before chips and augmented reality glasses appeared. Okay, never mind. In general, my answer is no, it can’t be dangerous. Today is your birthday, go for it…”

Two women, resembling each other like two peas in a pod, had been sitting in the kitchen for a couple of hours, drinking red wine from tall glasses, discussing everything in the world – men, children, everyday life, unfulfilled dreams – as if this evening were the last when they could talk about everything without fear of consequences.

“Does your Artem also study at St. Andrew’s School?” asked the blonde, and her voice became quieter, as if she wanted to share a secret that should not leave the confines of this kitchen.

“Yes,” answered the interlocutor, her eyes sparkled with curiosity, like a cat noticing that its owner had opened a bag of food.

“Let him keep an eye on mine for a while, it seems to me that someone is hurting him at school,” said the blonde. Her voice was full of helplessness and fear for her son. She felt that she could not protect him from this world and hoped for her sister’s help.

“Okay, I’ll tell him,” the dark-haired woman became interested, as if she had just learned that her favorite store was having a sale, but her next question sounded cautiously: “What happened?”

“Max has come home with bruises and abrasions several times,” said the blonde, and her voice became even quieter, as if she were afraid that someone from the neighbors would eavesdrop and decide that they had a real thriller here. “He’s becoming more and more withdrawn. I feel that something is wrong, but I can’t understand what exactly.”

“Maybe just transfer him to another school?” suggested the guest, but it was said as if she herself didn’t believe these words. Her proposal felt only like a formality, as if she just wanted to get rid of the problem.

“I don’t know,” sighed the blonde, “I’m tired of everything. Maybe we need to move somewhere further south, where the climate is milder and the people are kinder…” she bit her lip, as if this could stop the flow of her thoughts. Her words sounded a longing for a peaceful and happy life that she had never had.

The dark-haired woman put her glass on the table. Her gaze was directed into the distance and focused on something intangible, perhaps on memories of the past, when she herself dreamed of dropping everything and running away. She felt only envy and regret that her own dreams had never come true.

“Have you already talked to him about moving?” she asked.

The still beautiful, but already plumping woman of about forty in a pink dress, got up from the table and took the cake out of the oven, according to the timer that went off.

“No, I haven’t,” replied the hostess, her voice became even quieter, with a note of anxiety in it. “I think a change of scenery would be good for both of us. You know, everything has gone wrong since his father disappeared.”

“Tatiana, don’t start,” Olga stated categorically. Her voice became stern, as if she were reading a sentence. “His father was crazy. Everything turned out for the best. He would have ruined us all, and ‘Dream’ would have drowned in lawsuits.”

“I know,” said the blonde, but her gaze became sad, as if she had lost something important, “Still, it’s so… sad… because ‘Dream’ was his brainchild, his dream, and he never revealed the full potential of his world. He didn’t tell its story to people to the end.”

“It’s better to have a working project that generates profit than empty fantasies,” the dark-haired woman snapped, her voice sounding clear dislike.

“Yes, you’re probably right,” replied the blonde, lowering her shoulders.

Olga considered the conversation over and raised her voice:

“Children, let’s go have tea!”

When Max came down to the kitchen, the table, in addition to snacks, had a cake with the number 15 on it, decorated with simple cream roses, three cups of tea for the children, and two glasses of wine, half-emptied by the adults. On the wall, in large letters cut out of colored cardboard, was written: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

“Finally, you’re unhooked,” exclaimed Artem, apparently wanting to finish the “tea ceremony” as soon as possible and be at home next to his computer.

“Artem, watch your language! Sit down!” Aunt Olga immediately snapped at him, as if he were small, so much so that he almost spilled the tea on the table. It seemed that her son’s stupid behavior was ruining her perfect picture of arrogant superiority over her sister. She had specifically come today in the image of a “Business Woman”, took her husband’s SUV, and not the family car that she usually used for business, and repeatedly mentioned the firm’s affairs in passing, because, unlike her sister, she had kept her job there. But Artem had been acting stupidly all evening, unrestrained, and spoiling the whole impression… “Just like his useless father,” flashed a thought in her head.

“Oh, Mom…”

“How many times have I asked you not to be rude at the table! If you don’t stop, we’ll go home immediately and you’ll be without VR for a whole week!” Olga looked sternly at her son.

“It’s not fair…” Artem fell silent, looking imploringly at his mother. He frowned resentfully, but didn’t protest any further.

An awkward pause hung in the air.

“In my youth, people communicated, met, went somewhere together,” Tatiana picked up the conversation, “now… Everyone sits at home and lives with imaginary problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Olga supported her.

“By the way, when VR technology first appeared, Dad used the nick Grimnir in the game, right?” Max asked Tatiana, trying to make it as casual as possible.

Olga sharply lowered her glass to the table. The light blush caused by the half-empty bottle of wine faded from her cheeks. Every mention of Max’s father seemed to cause her dislike, as if he were still dangerous to her.

“Yes, that’s what he was called, why are you asking about it?” Tatiana wondered.

“I received this today.” Max took out the note with the name that was attached to the box with the game and put it on the table.

“Wow. What a twist.” Artem immediately chimed in, unable to restrain himself from a new remark. His eyes lit up again with curiosity, “There are a lot of rumors on the internet now that game characters can learn on their own, adopt the habits of their players. They say some almost gain consciousness, start writing messages from the player’s name to his friends. But for letters… That’s something new.”

“This is probably fake and someone’s stupid joke,” Aunt Olga stated categorically. “Rumors spread by competitors.”

“What happened to my father’s game character? How did his story end? Maybe he’s still there, in the game, and has retained part of my father’s consciousness or memories?”

Tatiana shook her head, as if dismissing this thought: “I don’t think it’s possible…” Tatiana took the note from the table, read it, and gave it to Olga.

“Your father is dead,” Olga stated unequivocally, looking at Max with undisguised anger, “The car was pulled out of the bottom of the bay. And that’s enough about it.” She returned the card with the name to Tatiana as if it were a time bomb.

“But his body wasn’t found!” Max interrupted her, his voice trembling, “The last time he spoke… he said he would come. It would be by six.” Max glanced at the electronic clock, which showed 6:05 PM. “The delivery truck arrived exactly at 6:00 PM, and the note is signed with his name…” Max didn’t know what other arguments to give to preserve this thin thread of hope.

“And when was he supposed to come? Five years ago?” Olga’s eyes flashed with anger.

Tatiana, seeing that the situation was escalating, stood up, as if about to protect her son from her sister:

“Let’s all calm down a bit. It’s just someone’s stupid joke. Your father was quite a well-known person in the gaming industry, so someone set up a silly prank on the anniversary of his death.” She went to the window and drew the curtains, suspecting that a prankster from the street might be filming their reaction on camera.

“It’s too expensive for a prank. He was sent the very latest model.” Artem again broke free from Olga’s control and chimed into the conversation “It’s being advertised all over the city now. You don’t need glasses or a helmet, just a hoop and electrodes that fit to the temples and interact with the chips. I need the same VR, it’s damn convenient.”

“Artem! What did I tell you!” Olga unleashed all her anger on her son, who had again violated the ban on bad language. “Home now, you’re without the web for a week!”

“Oh, Mom!” Artem said with offense, but his mother was no longer listening to him.

She stood up and confidently dragged Artem towards the exit.

“I’ll write when we get there,” she told her sister without turning around and left the house, leading the weakly resisting Artem with her.

Daria, a fifteen-year-old girl with long, curly red hair, also put her cup of unfinished tea aside.

“Well, Max, thank you for the evening, it was very cordial,” she said with a barely noticeable mockery, “but I guess I’ll go too,” she said, “now we know that your father is sending you messages even from the afterlife, and mine, although he visits home once every six months, is always drunk and never remembers me. I guess I’ll post about this story for my blog, but already at home.”

“Come on, come on, out of your 15 subscribers, no one even watches you there,” Max snapped.

The girl stuck out her tongue at him and got up from the table.

“I already have fifteen thousand subscribers, if you didn’t know!” Daria hissed with feigned anger, pulling on her coat, “And there are even donations on the streams, can you imagine?”

Max snorted, but a surprise flashed in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter that the guests are leaving,” Tatiana said when they were left alone, “it only means that we can talk in a closer family circle, doesn’t it?”

Max nodded, lowering his eyes.

They didn’t say another word to each other that evening.

It was already 3 a.m., and Max still couldn’t calm down and fall asleep.

“Who could have sent this VR anyway? Why did the ‘gift’ arrive exactly at six in the evening, exactly at the time when my father was supposed to arrive, even if it’s someone’s prank, who besides family members could know all the details?” Max pondered.

The question seemed to hang in the air.

He needed to double-check everything again and find out everything he could. First, he tracked the place of dispatch of the order by the number. The point of sending the parcel was a receiving point, one and a half kilometers from his father’s old house, the one from which he was supposed to arrive, 5 years ago. It’s hardly a coincidence. But how could the “prankster” who sent the device know this address? It was an amazing attention to detail. After all, his father’s address was not publicly available information, although he was quite a well-known person, as one of the leading developers of the company “Dream”, participated in presentations, and sometimes gave interviews before the release of updates, but personal information was always kept secret. The house in which he lived after his divorce from Tatiana was recently put up for sale again, and it had changed several owners before that. Over the past few years… it had gained a reputation as a “bad place,” if you believe the reviews on rental and real estate sales sites. It had an expensive “Smart Home” system installed, which turned on when it wanted to and scared the new owners to hell. It was possible to demolish it, but then the house would lose almost half its value, and each time the new owners did the same thing – they sold the house with a small discount. Now it cost ridiculous for a super-modern house: 1,800,000 cr. Similar houses in area cost at least 4,000,000 cr.

More information about the sender could not be found today.

Max didn’t know what to do. All of this could be someone’s stupid joke, a prank. All the data about his father’s death is on the web, and anyone could send this message. But if you believe Vladislav, his father’s avatar was online in the game for two minutes. The game’s functionality has long allowed you to send messages, make purchases in the DREAM Inc. online store, and much more. Even one minute is enough to buy VR for in-game gold and send it to someone along with an invitation to the game. In modern games, it is almost impossible to hack someone else’s account. In addition to the name and password, the location of the chips in the body must match, and so on, artificial intelligence analyzes, including physical parameters such as heart rate, breathing, appearance, and even the player’s behavior. All of this is impossible to fake. The chips are scattered through the bloodstream when taking the first identification pill and are fixed in the body chaotically, individually for each person. Their location is simply impossible to fake, it’s like a fingerprint. Who else could send him this device and know all the other indirect details?

Time passed… Max couldn’t fall asleep.

He tore open the packaging with the VR and pulled out the contents.

His loot consisted of a hermetically sealed silver plastic bag and an instruction manual, printed on paper, which in the eco-obsessed world was wasteful.

“Introducing Oneiro-Drive 3 – a virtual reality immersion device from “Dream”

Key Features and Benefits of Oneiro-Drive:

– Full Sensory Immersion: The user feels the virtual world with all their senses as if they were in the real world.

– Direct Thought Control: The user controls the virtual environment and interacts with objects simply by thinking about it.

– Realistic Dream Experiences: Oneiro-Drive allows the user to experience realistic and controllable dreams.

– Enhanced Cognitive Abilities: Oneiro-Drive can be used for training, exercising, and improving cognitive abilities such as memory, attention, and creativity.

– Therapeutic Applications: Oneiro-Drive can be used to treat mental disorders such as anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

Important note:

The company “Dream” is not responsible in case the user makes changes and modifications not provided by the manufacturer…”

He immediately tossed the instructions aside. Who even reads them?

The torn plastic bag revealed a white hoop with a bunch of electrodes on the inside. A battery pack and a source of theta waves were hidden inside this high-tech device. The box also contained a bundle of wires in case there was no wireless charging station for electronic devices in the house. Max also set them aside. He turned on the VR and saw a notification about finding a new device on his computer.

Then he went to the game’s website. He scrolled through the splash screen with the flight into space over various worlds, fighting knights, dinosaurs, and spaceships… He poked the “Create New Account” button as soon as it appeared.

“Would you like to undergo a personality analysis procedure to create more high-quality content suitable for you?”*

– The game has a psychotherapeutic effect and, by analyzing your answers, selects adventures that will help you become a more harmonious personality, work through old psychological traumas, or simply gain more self-confidence…

A questionnaire with more than three hundred tabs appeared on the screen. “Oh no,” Max thought, “that’s too long:” “No”.

“Would you like to allow our algorithms to independently analyze your social networks and search history to create a personalized storyline and higher-quality content that is right for you?”*

*DREAM ltd guarantees the confidentiality of personal data.

*In the case of providing full access to social networks, artificial intelligence will independently analyze your interests, contacts, likes and, based on the history of correspondence and preferences in the selection of groups, music, news… will select the optimal storyline. In addition, the road of adventures can bring you together with people close and interesting to you, correspondence with which is in the chat, in order to strengthen family corporate, friendly, and other ties… the further description was quite long, but the main thing that followed from it was that the game allowed you to “close the gestalt”, relive the traumatic moments of life again and emerge victorious, at least in the virtual world, while learning effective methods of solving problems in reality.

Below were enthusiastic reviews from people who took advantage of this option when registering:

– “An amazing adventure that changed my attitude to life” – Victor, 18, student.

– “Incredible. Hundreds of hours of psychoanalysis gave me less than a month of playing online according to the proposed plot” – Alexander, 42, banker.

– “I overcame my fears and was able to communicate with women again.” – Oleg, 37, builder.

“OK,” Max decided, let’s see what kind of individual story it is.

“Grant access to social networks?”

Maybe “Yes”. He didn’t want to give up the possibility of getting a personalized storyline.

A message appeared on the screen that read:

Attention: the game device connects you to only one character, to create a new character, purchase a new device. If the device is lost, the connection to the character will be lost forever…

“What crafty game developers… – Max thought, – one device equals one character in the game, which means more sales of the VR devices themselves, plus constant service and repair of the already purchased equipment, in order to maintain connection with your embodiment in the game…” Max waited for the short download to finish, attached the electrodes right to his temples, and lay down on the bed.

Sleepiness immediately fell upon him.

IV. TEMPLE OF THE UNNAMED GOD

He came to in a meditative pose in a temple with gray stone columns. A colorful mosaic on the floor of the temple was woven into spiral patterns. The dome-shaped roof was divided by arched vaults into eight segments, each of which had its own color and was made of stained glass, the pattern of which was woven into a web. The round opening in the middle of the temple roof had no glazing. It was broken, and its shards lay on the floor of the temple. Eight doors and eight exits led from the temple to the outside, one door for each side of the world. Each of these massive wooden doors was decorated with intricate carvings and a mirror almost the size of a human.

In the center of the temple grew a green tree, surprisingly reminiscent of the bonsai that Max kept on the windowsill in his room. However, this tree was much larger – more than five meters high, its powerful branches spread out to the sides, almost reaching the walls and the round opening in the roof. The leaves shimmered with various shades of green, creating a contrast with the gray color inside the temple.

The light of the sunset, breaking through the opening in the dome, played on the foliage, as if emphasizing the magical nature of this tree. It looked like a symbol of life and hope in this abandoned place.

Max was surprised by the detail of the drawing of each element of the temple and the bright colors in the game, it was as if he was in a dream, but at the same time not losing awareness and control of movements. He raised his hands and was surprised to notice that even the lines on his palms were drawn in detail. It was an amazingly bright and beautiful world. Somewhere on the edge of the perception of consciousness, a light, heroic melody played, with an abundance of strings, promising adventures in a new world. His own body had hardly changed as far as he could tell, it was still the body of a 15-year-old teenager. He was dressed in a white cassock and pants made of the same simple material, on the middle finger of his left hand was a pewter signet ring with the image of a white dragon on a black background. There was no more equipment or clothing on him.

He remembered Artem’s offer to help in the beginning. And he wrote to him in the game chat:

“I’m in the game. I need help.”

The answer came almost immediately. Despite Olga’s threats to leave him without the internet for a week, he was online.

“Super, mark the location. I’ll take Daria and we’ll rush to the rescue. It’s usually difficult for newbies at first, but we’ll help you level up. Where are you?”

The control interface was simple, and Max easily figured out how to send his location to his interlocutor in the chat.

“Ouch. Straight to the cursed lands? This is a very difficult location to start. Okay, wait.”

Max got up from the floor and decided to look around while his friends found him. When he approached one of the gates of the temple, a system message appeared:

Quest received: “Choosing a Path”

Description: The system was unable to accurately determine the circle of your interests. They are too indifferent. You are directed to the Temple of the One to choose your game class and begin your adventure. You are free to choose a game path (go out into one of the gates of the temple to find your game class, unique skill, and patron deity). * and begin the adventure.

Description: The system was unable to accurately determine the circle of your interests. They are too indifferent. You are directed to the Temple of the One to choose your game class and begin your adventure. You are free to choose a game path (go out into one of the gates of the temple to find your game class, unique skill, and patron deity). *

Type: Class-based.

Reward: Variable, depends on the chosen path.

Penalty for failure: Eternal languor in the Temple of the One.

*Do not rush to make your choice, time in the Temple of the One does not flow, you do not age and do not feel physiological needs.

“So much for the vaunted system of determining the plot by data from social networks and contacts. Too diverse interests… And the choice will have to be made by yourself,” Max thought, “Everything is usually the same in life. Well, don’t just sit here forever.”

Max got up and approached one of the exits. A warrior with a sword and shield was depicted in mosaic on the floor. The section of the stained-glass web of the roof above this exit was red.

In the mirror, he was reflected, but not in the cassock and canvas pants of a newbie, but as a knight in heavy steel armor, armed with a shield and sword. The heavy smell of iron and blood hit his nostrils. Inside the mirror, behind the knight, silhouettes of fighters clad in armor flickered, crushing enemies with powerful blows. A voice, rough and commanding, whispered: “Power is true freedom. Become invincible, and no one will be able to tell you what to do.”

If Max came out of this door of the temple, he would be on the path of a warrior.

At the exit to the left of the warrior was a healer depicted, the color of the stained glass above him was yellow.

He was reflected in the mirror dressed in a complex, multi-layered robe with patch pockets. A white cloak thrown over his shoulder was decorated with gold embroidery. In his hands he holds a thick manuscript devoted to medicine. This is his main tool and weapon. A small vial with some glowing substance inside and a bag for storing herbs hangs on his belt. The system added a neat beard and mustache, emphasizing his strong-willed chin. Expressive gray eyes look attentively and a little inquiringly.

The soft glow around him is filled with warmth and compassion. Inside the reflection, an atmosphere of peace and tranquility reigned. A voice, gentle and caring, offered: “Save the world from suffering, and you will find true happiness.”

To the right of the warrior was a commander in a chariot with a laurel wreath on his head and in snow-white clothes, raising his hand in a welcoming gesture, with a white stained-glass window above him.

Inside the mirror reflection, ideal lines of soldiers were built in the background, ready for battle. A voice, firm and authoritative, called: “Faithfully lead your soldiers into battle, and your name will remain in the centuries! True power is the ability to control others.”

Max went towards the commander, wanting to go around all the doors in a circle.

Next, on the blue mosaic floor was depicted a Musician with a lute in his hands.

Melodious sounds of music and ringing laughter. An atmosphere of fun and inspiration reigned inside the mirror portal. Magnificent dresses of court ladies flashed by, and wine flowed like a river. A voice, pleasant and artistic, belonging to a dandy in a blue camisole, invited: “Sing songs about heroes, create beauty. Live for one day, but remember that art is able to live forever.”

A merchant with a red beard.

The clink of coins and the rustle of silks. The spirit of luxury and prosperity reigned inside. A voice, businesslike and persuasive, offered: “Make a fortune, and you will rule the world. Gold is the key to any heart.”

An assassin hiding a wavy blade behind his back was depicted under a purple stained-glass window.

The whisper of shadows and the beating of adrenaline. Silhouettes of agile figures flickering in the darkness flickered inside the reflection, disappearing into the darkness. A voice, cunning and tempting, promised: “Own information, and you will control everything.”

Next, a necromancer in a black robe with a staff decorated with a human skull.

Icy cold and the smell of decay. Inside, the shadows of the dead stirred, ready to serve their master. A voice, ominous and authoritative, whispered: “Death is only the beginning. Become the lord of the dead, and you will find true freedom.”

A mage surrounded by whirlwinds of blue energy.

Smooth streams of energy, mesmerizing in their beauty. It smelled of ancient knowledge and limitless potential. A voice, flattering and seductive, beckoned: “Learn the secrets of the universe, and you will be able to change reality at will.”

Having stepped over the image of the healer under the yellow stained-glass window – Max returned to the point from which he began his journey.

Quest “Choosing a Path” updated:

Available classes:

Warrior – a strong and hardy character, a master of melee combat. Able to wear heavy armor and use heavy weapons. His task is to protect allies and inflict damage on enemies.

Class skill: “Unbreakable Shield”: The warrior can temporarily create an impenetrable energy shield around himself, absorbing damage from all sources, including magical attacks. The shield has a limited duration and charging takes some time. The effectiveness of the shield depends on the current level of the character.

Patron deity: Arumatan – God of War.

Healer – a support player whose unique abilities will help not only heal wounds, but also bring back to life a comrade who has fallen on the battlefield. Possesses high accuracy and speed of movement, prefers to keep at a distance from the enemy. The healer can also use light magic to exorcise the undead.

Class skill: “Great Healing”: All allied characters within a radius of 10 meters fully restore health. This skill has a long cooldown (1 day).

Patron deity: Luxur – God of Light, Accuracy, Speed, Medicine and Knowledge.

Warlord – a leader and strategist who can lead troops into battle. Warlords can enhance their allies and manage combat operations on the battlefield.

Class skill: “Tactical Pause”: The warlord can briefly slow down time for all enemies within a certain radius, allowing allies to inflict more damage and evade attacks. This skill consumes a significant amount of mana/energy.

Patron deity: Rodan (Creator) God of Creation, Intellect, Air.

Bard – a musician and storyteller who uses music and words to inspire allies and weaken enemies. Bards can create powerful spells through their melodies.

Class skill: “Echo of Melodies”: The bard can “record” the effects of his song (buffs/debuffs) and “reproduce” them at any moment within a short period of time, even if the bard himself is not singing. The number of recordings is limited.

Patron deity: Mirta – Goddess of Love and Water.

Merchant – a cunning character who can manipulate the economy and use his trading skills to gain advantages. The merchant can find rare items and make profitable deals.

Class skill: “Cunning Deal”: The merchant can offer the enemy a “deal”: a temporary truce or weakening of the attack in exchange for a valuable resource or information. The success of the deal depends on the merchant’s skills and the value of the offered goods/information.

Patron deity: Floki – God of Deception, Lies and Treachery, Winding Paths and Caves.

Assassin – a master of stealth and agility, specializing in fast and deadly attacks. Assassins can stealthily approach enemies and inflict critical strikes.

Class skill: “Shadow of Death”: The assassin can become almost invisible for a while, moving at incredible speed and inflicting critical strikes that ignore the opponent’s armor. After the skill is used, the assassin becomes vulnerable for a short time.

Patron deity: Valor (Smith) God of Fury, Blacksmithing, Fire.

Necromancer – a dark mage capable of resurrecting the dead and controlling them. Necromancers can use the power of death to damage enemies and subjugate their will.

Class skill: “Sacrificial Resurrection”: The necromancer can resurrect one ally, but sacrificing a significant amount of his own health. The resurrected ally will have a temporary buff that increases his strength.

Patron deity: Sator – God of Darkness, Death, the Underworld.

Mage – a master of magic capable of using spells to attack, defend, and support. Mages can control the elements, create illusions, and heal allies.

Class skill: “Magical Reflection Shield”: The mage creates a shield that not only absorbs damage but also reflects part of it back at attacking enemies. This shield has a limited number of charges.

Patron deity: Malena – Goddess of the Moon, Passion and Magic.

On the stained-glass roof of the temple, there were all the colors of the rainbow except for green plus black and white. For the necromancer and the commander, respectively.

There must have been some kind of catch here, these were not all the game classes, but only the most common ones. For example, as he knew from snippets of conversations between adults in his family, the son of Alexander First – the owner of the company “Dream”, who died in a plane crash, had the druid class when he played, and he is still the leader of the character level rating. Which means his class was strong enough. And rare. And it wasn’t on the selection list yet. That is, there should be at least one more exit from the temple, marked with the green color missing to complete the full rainbow palette. It was worth looking further. After all, is it possible that the rarer the class, the stronger it is? Max approached the tree in the center of the temple. Shards of broken glass crunched under his feet. Max looked up and once again noted that part of the stained-glass window above his head was broken, maybe this is also considered an exit?

Max: Should he climb the tree and try to get to the round opening in the center of the temple’s dome, where there was no glass? Max touched the bark of the tree in the center of the temple and heard some kind of call, it seemed to be the voices of all who had ever lived in this fictional world. They were calling him… the music at the edge of consciousness became more alarming. Max pulled back his hand and looked down at his feet. He was standing on a round hatch cover with a classic image of the tree of life adopted in Scandinavian mythology, whose branches were so skillfully intertwined with the drawings of the mosaic on the floor that it was almost impossible to notice it from afar. In addition, it was entangled in the roots of the tree. A new system message appeared:

Quest “Choosing a Path” updated:

New class available:

Druid (hidden class) – a keeper of nature, able to transform into animals and use the power of nature to heal and attack. Druids can control the elements and summon natural forces.

Class skill: “Animal Fury”: The druid temporarily transforms into an animal – the totem of the tribe, gaining increased physical strength and armor. In this state, his attacks deal increased physical damage.

Patron deity: Terra (Mother Goddess) Goddess of Life, Fertility, Mother of Gods.

So if you open the hatch in the floor you get the druid class… Curious.

But Max was already looking up at the round opening on the ceiling of the temple, located directly above the hatch in the floor. Looking closely, he realized that the broken stained glass on the ceiling of the temple was a kind of sundial, and the glazing with symbols that allowed to determine the time by them was now missing because it had once been broken by a stone core launched by a siege machine. The stone core lay here among the fragments on the floor. “What if you don’t choose any of the classes currently available? Freedom is not choosing a class from a given list, but creating your own path,” he decided. – Technically, the broken stained glass in the center is also an exit.

Max smiled at his mischievous idea, jumping he grabbed the lower branch of the tree, pulled himself up climbed higher,

At that moment, his doppelgangers stepped out of the mirror portals all at once. “Get him!” – rang out the order of the commander. The warrior waved his sword, the mage released a ball of energy, the healer tried to paralyze him, and the assassin threw a dagger, but Maxim was fast enough. He ducked higher, climbed onto the next branch, and was soon under the very dome of the temple. Branches of the tree began to entwine around his legs. His hands didn’t reach the opening in the roof by almost a meter. “Stay” – a voice sounded in his head. He saw a face appearing on the bark of the tree, surprisingly similar to his own, if it opened its eyes it would be too late, too late. If he had been even a little taller, he probably could have reached the edges of the opening in the roof in a jump. But now it was impossible, his height was too small. He tried to climb a little higher, tearing his legs out of the branches that were entwining him. From this movement, under his weight, the upper branches of the tree creaked dangerously and went sharply down first, then returned up like a spring, momentarily lifting Max slightly higher than he was initially. “If you fall down and break all your bones, is there still a point in choosing the warrior class?” – a strange thought flashed through his head. The Ent was slowly coming to life.

Max jerked with all his might.

He pushed off with his feet at the highest point of the branch’s oscillation, and through a brief moment of flight, it seemed to him that he would never reach the edge of the broken stained-glass window, he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, but his hands were still reaching forward, in this moment of weightlessness before the fall, his fingers gripped a ledge. He pulled himself up, grabbed a metal spire, which apparently once served as a clock hand in the sundial of the temple, and found himself on the roof.

Quest “Choosing a Path” Completed.

Class assigned:

Time Keeper (hidden class) – a mage capable of manipulating gravity, time, and space. Keepers can slow down or speed up events, use fast movements, and foresee the future.

Your divine patron is the One – God of gravity, time, and space, balance, and higher justice.

Reward: Class skill – Teleportation. With the help of ancient magic, you tear the fabric of space, instantly moving to the chosen point. Disappear from the sight of enemies and instantly move a short distance.

Use this skill to avoid danger or take a favorable position for attack.

Experience for completing the quest: +25

Experience for obtaining a unique class: +100

*You are the only player on the server to receive the Time Keeper class.

You have reached new level 11.

Experience to the next level: 1125 (+125) \1200

The movement inside the temple stopped, his digital doubles disappeared, and the tree became an ordinary plant again.

Max recoiled from the failure of the broken stained-glass window, stood up, and surveyed the surroundings. The temple, majestically towering in the middle of the city, shrouded in a poisonous fog that spread over the ground like a living creature. Only the roofs of individual buildings occasionally peered out of this fog, through which the dim light of the sunset broke through, painting the horizon in a bloody haze. The city, once prosperous, now looked like a shadow of itself, plunged into darkness and despair.

Sinister dark figures, resembling zombies, wandered through the streets with a swaying, uneven gait. Their movements were slow and unnatural, as if they were puppets in the hands of an invisible puppeteer. Max felt a chill run down his spine as one of these figures raised its head, and he saw empty, lifeless eyes looking in his direction.

The background music, previously quiet and unobtrusive, became gloomy, with booming drum beats that sounded like a harbinger of trouble. Each beat echoed in his heart, urging him to action.

“Damn… Where am I? -Max thought, – and where to go next?”

The heavy fog and monsters did not cause any desire to go down and explore the area.

“Faster Darriel, take him down!” – someone’s rough voice pierced the fog.

Max’s body worked faster than his brain and he collapsed down, pressed against the roof. The string of the crossbow snapped and a dark figure at the end of the street fell down with an arrow in its head.

“It could have been a screamer… we won’t be able to withstand the second aggro. Be on the lookout woman!” – warned the voice.

“Don’t whine Red. We’ll rest when we get to the temple. According to the location that Max sent you, he should be somewhere here. Monsters can’t go to holy ground.” – another voice replied.

The speakers finally appeared in the area of visibility, which was severely limited by the gray fog. They were a broad-shouldered shorty, a little shorter even than Max himself in a horned helmet, with a mace in his hands and a huge shield – a typical fantasy dwarf, and a honed, flexible female figure with a crossbow dressed in dark, form-fitting leather armor. Pointed ears and light hair made her look like an elf, but eyes shining with red lights and ash-gray skin did not allow to understand exactly what fantasy race she belongs to. The girl squatted over the monster lying on the pavement and pulled her arrow out of it.

“We should have arrived already, maybe we should go back a little?” – asked the dwarf.

The girl took out a piece of parchment from her bag and leaned over it.

“Where are we going, bearded one?” Darriel asked, as if continuing a dispute that had begun long before this. “We’ve already passed the leatherworker’s shop, so that means…”

A dark figure dangerously approached the adventurers from around the corner of the building, which they could not see…

The monster was not like the others. His size was impressive, and his movements were swift and clumsy, which only increased the sense of anxiety. Huge muscles under the black-haired body tensed with his every attempt to take a step, and his eyes flashed with a wild gleam. This jerky and uncoordinated gait inspired an inexplicable animal horror, as if nature itself had created him to sow fear.

Suddenly, the monster stopped, sensing the presence of adventurers. He sniffed the air, his breath was heavy and intermittent. Then, he let out a piercing roar that stunned everything around, like an alarm bell calling for action. The sounds spread throughout the city, causing the stones to tremble, and the birds to soar into the sky.

Reacting to his scream, all the black figures within the block, as if enraged and suddenly gaining unprecedented strength and speed, ran out of the fog and rushed towards the adventurers from all sides. More and more monsters appeared from the surrounding houses, foggy streets and dark alleys, one of them even jumped down from the second floor of the building opposite. The sound of breaking glass was replaced by a smacking sound after it landed on the pavement. The monster could not get up, but he crawled forward on his hands with a muffled growl.

The travelers were forced to retreat back into a narrow dead-end alley, trying to avoid being surrounded.

Quest received: “Allies\Enemies”

Description: In the cursed city you met a group of adventurers, unite with them or destroy them.

Type: Random event.

Reward: Variable.

Penalty for failure: No.

The crossbowwoman brought down two monsters with accurate shots, and first of all the “Screamer” that signaled the attack to the others, before the dark figures from all sides huddled the dwarf covering her with a shield. The dwarf, skillfully wielding his mace, laid down three, and deftly dropped several zombies that clung to the shield, but when creatures of another type began to appear in the crowd of attackers, even faster and larger, more like animals than former people, the green health bar that appeared above his head quickly crept down. Probably, when it reaches zero, the dwarf will simply fall on the stone pavement of the pavement and it will be torn to pieces.

“Quickly here!” – Max did not recognize his voice, changed by the game to a higher one. “The temple is here!”

The girl reacted first, she took a short run, pushed off her foot from the wall of the building and in one jump jumped over both the dwarf and the zombies surrounding him, spectacularly landed on the crawling monster, piercing his head with the studs of her heels and simultaneously plunging short curved blades from both hands into the two nearest enemies. The Darks hit in the head did not get up. After that, she rushed to run to the temple. The dwarf made a lunge, clearly fueled by some kind of magic, scattering opponents and ran after her.

Breathing heavily, they burst into the temple, slamming the massive doors shut behind them.

The dwarf was bleeding, the elven woman didn’t look much better than him. Dozens of dark figures surrounded the temple, and their number was growing rapidly, they fought and howled behind the doors of the temple, but none of them was able to step on its territory. They hissed and raged outside, reaching out to the strangers, but were not able to set foot on the sacred ground.

“How did you get here? The location is not easy. What can a lonely, unarmed child do in a temple in the middle of a cursed city?” Darriel pointed the crossbow at Max. “What class do you have and what tasks did the system give you?”

“Wait, wait,” the dwarf stood between her and the boy, “We came here to help, to help him level up, remember?” The dwarf smoothed his red beard, taking another sip from a bottle of green potion, which caused his health bar to fill up quickly. Although his iron armor and chain mail still clearly needed repair.

“Maybe he lured us here on purpose,” Darriel continued, “It’s ‘Dream’, they can’t do without unexpected twists and crazy quests. Something is clearly wrong here Redbird. Maybe it’s a hidden monster killing quest. And he’s that monster. The temple is clearly damaged, look at the shards of glass. This clearly happened recently, most likely during the shelling of the city by wall-battering machines of the Lights before the next assault. That’s how he woke up. If he’s the ghost-keeper of this place, he’s just waiting for us to turn away so he can tear our throats.”

“You see monster hunting quests in everything, calm down already. We are on holy ground.” The dwarf objected, trying to calm her panic.

“In a cursed city,” Darriel did not give up.

“But we don’t receive damage from the cursed land here, which means the place is still sacred. And the cursed cannot enter here, which means he is normal. Look at those,” the dwarf waved towards the crowd of zombies outside the temple area, which had become noticeably larger during the conversation and was in no hurry to disperse, “they are not able to go to the holy land.”

“And by the way, yes, this is another argument against him,” said Darriel, “they don’t react to him.”

“What?” the dwarf was surprised, “how is that?”

“Even now, when we move around the temple, the damned feel it and try to get closer and move, but there is no such reaction to him. The temple would have been plastered with zombies even when we approached it if they had sensed a living person inside, got it? We wouldn’t even have entered.”

“Are you implying that they can’t come here because of him?” – asked the dwarf.

“Maybe. Ordinary cursed ones avoid the territory of bosses,” replied Darriel.

“Guys, wait, I don’t have any curses and I’m definitely not a monster, at least I don’t know about it.” Max raised his hands in conciliation. “This is my start to the game. I appeared here.”

“Strange… it turns out that the artificial intelligence of the game made you a super difficult start.” The dwarf scratched his beard. “This location is not recommended to visit until level 20.”

“Accept the request to add to the group, I want to look at your characteristics. You have nothing to hide, do you, Max?” Daria-Darriel did not calm down.

Player Darieel invites you to join the group: Yes\No?

“Okay, but how do I do that?” Max asked, feeling insecure.

“Just agree, verbally,” Darriel replied.

“I agree,” said Max.

Quest “Allies\Enemies” Completed.

Description: In the cursed city you met a group of adventurers, uniting with them you found new allies.

Type: Random event.

Reward: Experience +15.

Experience to the next level: 1140 (+15) \1200

Now, Names and brief characteristics appeared above the heads of the new comrades. Just as Max’s characteristics must have become visible to them.

Name: Darriel (Ally) Race: Dark Elf Age: 32 Level: 21 (Master 1st stage) Class: Monster Hunter

Name: Redbird (Ally) Race: dwarf Age: 38 Level: 18 (Senior weaponsmith apprentice) Class: Weaponsmith

For some time, they studied new information about each other. The girl was a “dark” elf, or as they were also called drow, perhaps this explained her non-standard appearance for fair-skinned and clear-eyed elves.

“Time Keeper? What kind of class is that?” the archer was surprised.

“But now we know for sure that he is not a vengeful spirit,” the dwarf remarked.

“What kind of classes do you have, are they unique? I didn’t see anything like that in the task of choosing a game class,” Max asked.

“No, we have the most common ones,” Redbird waved his hand, “her ‘Monster Hunter’ is just one of the subspecies of ‘hunter’ or as it is also called ‘archer’, and ‘weaponsmith’ is a type of ‘merchant’, a craftsman selling his own goods, but I see one like yours for the first time, which god became your patron, Einar?”

“Einar?” Max raised his eyebrows in surprise, “why are you calling me that?”

“That’s your game name… I see it in your statistics. Role-playing is important for the game, those who do not immerse themselves in the Lore receive penalties from the system, so I advise you not to violate the game rules and respond to this name. So what god do you have, the one you serve?”

“My divine patron?” Max remembered the completion of the recent quest. “It’s the One.”

“It’s amazing, I’ve never heard of the One interfering in the affairs of people, accepting sacrifices, or giving quests,” said Darriel.

“And what kind of god is that?” Max asked.

“The supreme deity of the local pantheon. He is also called the Incomprehensible or the Creator, he is everywhere and nowhere, he is the law of the universe, order and chaos, he created all the worlds and retired, he is the god of balance, time and higher justice,” Redbird flashed his knowledge of the game lore.

“Redbird, my quest is closed!” the archer exclaimed, “the one to find a weapon capable of stopping the advance of the Light Alliance into the dark lands.” She finally lowered the crossbow, “He’s the weapon!”

“A boy with level 11? How will he be able to destroy the Alliance’s army of mercenaries? The gods truly have an inexplicable sense of humor,” the dwarf smirked.

“Artem, aren’t you overdoing it? You’re talking like a fifty-year-old,” Max laughed.

“I am almost fifty here in the game, so everything is within the rules. And what are your special abilities? What is your background, why did you appear here, are there any hints or tasks?” asked the dwarf.

“I don’t have a background, or rather I don’t know it. And from the skills: Teleportation,” Max replied.

“Really, show me?!” the elf admired.

“I haven’t used it even once yet. And I don’t know how to use the abilities,” Max confessed.

“Okay, it will happen at the right moment in the plot, you just need to move on,” the dwarf explained, “the game system calculates and prescribes each character their own unique story.”

“Yes,” the elf continued, “For example, Red’s parents’ caravan was attacked by bandits in childhood, and he scattered them with his magical surge of rage, thanks to which he and his family managed to escape. But then it reflected badly on him. Circumstances determined the choice of his unique ability, and this is a military ability, it is useless for a merchant. Therefore, he is 48 and he is still not a master weaponsmith. It’s hard to compete with those who have the blessing of the gods when you don’t.”

“And why not just become a warrior then?” Max asked.

“dwarf society is divided into castes, warriors are lower in the hierarchy of their state than merchants, so he must continue the work of his parents, despite the fact that he does not have the abilities for this,” Darriel replied, without thinking about the fact that her words might offend the dwarf.

“Is it necessary to spill other people’s secrets like that?” the dwarf quickly wound up and fell into a rage, “dwarfs live for 300 years, I will still have time to become a master. And you,” the dwarf poked a finger at Darriel, “with your sick head and visions will suffer for the rest of your life. She thrashes on the floor for half a day and there is no use from her.” he nodded to Max, “She groans like a cat in March! The chosen one must come… the weapon of retribution… it is nearby.” the dwarf rolled his eyes and waved his hands in the air depicting a fit.

The crossbow string clicked, the arrow grazed the dwarf’s cheek and pierced into the tree behind him.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you… little bastard…” Darriel hissed.

System message: You have desecrated the holy place with bloodshed. Leave it or the curse of the One will fall upon you. Time remaining: 15 sec… 14… 13…

“What the… What have you done? What are we going to do now?! The temple is surrounded by Darks, and we can’t stay here now.” The dwarf grabbed his head with his hands. “Sator, tear me apart, why did I join a party with an elf… Divine curses are the worst thing in this world, we better go outside and let them tear us apart on the spot.”

“Maybe we’ll go up to the roof?” Max remembered his way up.

“That won’t work, we will still be considered within the radius of the holy land,” the dwarf replied.

“There is also an underground passage,” Max pointed to the round hatch cover in the floor, “but I don’t know where it leads.”

“Screw it! Let’s go!” The dwarf pried the hatch cover with a knife and, tearing it out of the entwining roots, jumped down. The elf pulled the arrow out of the trunk of the tree of life, putting her hand to it for a second, whispered “Sorry” and jumped after.

8… 7… 6…

Max had no choice but to follow them.

Underground, the system of passages divided into three tunnels at once.

“Which of the three passages?” Max asked.

“It doesn’t matter! Any!” the dwarf rushed into the tunnel located in the center.

V. DUNGEON OF THE CURSED CITY

Only after moving a safe distance from the temple did the dwarf take a torch out of his travel bag and light it.

“We need to hurry, now we are receiving damage from the cursed land again and it is growing, which means this passage leads deep into the city. We don’t have so many health elixirs left. Let’s hurry. We need to find a safe haven,” the dwarf hurried his comrades.

The torch in Redbird’s hand cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, exposing ugly fungal growths and ominous cracks.

“Damn these dungeons,” the dwarf grumbled, spitting on the floor. “Why are they crammed into every game?!”

“You are a dwarf, make yourself at home,” Darriel parried.

“I’m a dwarf, not a mole or a slug! If you had ever been to Flokia, you would know that it is quite cozy in dwarf dungeons. And here… what can be good in such a hole?”

“Quiet,” whispered the archer, listening. “Do you hear?”

Maxim listened. Dripping water, rustling sounds, the distant squeak of rats… and something else. A faint, almost inaudible grinding sound, as if someone was dragging something heavy across the stone.

““Dark Paladin”? ” whispered Artem, gripping his mace tighter.

Shadows danced on the walls of the tunnel, tracing bizarre figures.

Artem raised the torch and threw it forward, sensing the enemy. The light snatched a tall figure, clad in armor as black as pitch, from the darkness. Death and hatred emanated from him. Two red lights flickered on the helmet, exactly like the eyes of a demon. In his hands he was clutching a huge two-handed sword, from which a faint ominous light emanated. On the sides of the Paladin, like faithful servants, walked two undead – skeletons, clad in decaying armor, with empty eye sockets, greedily looking at the living. Their bony jaws clacked in anticipation of prey.

“Damn it!” Artem roared, raising his shield higher. Dasha fired an arrow. It pierced the eye socket of one of the skeletons, and it collapsed, crumbling into dust. But the other two continued to advance.

Maxim understood that they were in trouble. But he couldn’t help his comrades in any way. Unarmed and without armor, he could only stand on the edge of the torchlit platform, silently watching the battle.

The Paladin didn’t make a sound. He just raised his sword, and a bone-chilling screech of metal against the ceiling of the dungeon resounded. Sparks flew down. This titanic sword with a very wide blade was the size of a dwarf and weighed, must have been the same.

“Damn…” Artem whispered, clenching his mace. “We’re retreating!”

Dasha fired an arrow, but it bounced off the Paladin’s armor as if from a stone wall. The second undead rushed to the attack, clacking bones and waving bony claws at the tips of his fingers.

The fight broke out instantly. Artem took the blow of the undead, blocking it with his shield, and hitting with his mace. Dasha found a gap in the Paladin’s defense by plunging an arrow into his eye socket, without, however, any noticeable damage to him.

Maxim stood as if paralyzed. Fear paralyzed his movements. He tried to remember at least something from his new abilities and real skills, but there was only emptiness in his head.

At that moment, he heard a strange sound – a muffled scraping of stone.

“Maxim! Watch out!” Dasha shouted.

Without noticing it himself, he leaned his back on a lever on the wall.

Raising his head, he saw the ceiling above him beginning to collapse. Huge stone blocks were falling down, ready to crush him to pieces.

Time seemed to slow down. He saw the stones approaching him, saw the horror in the eyes of Dasha and Artem. He knew this was the end.

But suddenly, someone’s strong hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him aside. Maxim fell to the ground, choking from dust and fear. A stone rain collapsed over him, turning the place where he had just stood into a pile of debris.

Maxim looked at the collapsed ceiling, realizing how close he was to death.

“Trap,” Redbird grumbled, examining the debris. “Ancient, well camouflaged. Only a dwarf with good eyesight could have noticed it.”

He pointed to a small mechanism hidden behind one of the plates. “Press this plate – and everything will collapse. You’re lucky. Be more careful next time.”

Both undead, not endowed with good reaction, remained buried under the rubble.

Max looked at the two-handed sword sticking out of the pile of stones, still pulsating with green light. Wanting to finally get his first weapon, he approached and grabbed the handle.

He pulled up…

“Looks like you won’t be King Arthur.” the dwarf snorted, looking at his pointless attempt to pull out the sword.

“Don’t worry,” Daria explained. “These swords weigh so much that no one can use them. Even giants.”

Suddenly, the handle of the sword twitched and went up.

The pile of stones under Max’s feet stirred and came into motion.

The Dark Paladin, with a barely filled red life bar, slowly rose from under the rubble, his hand still clutching the sword closer to the guard. Maxim, almost hanging on the handle, stepped back with a cry.

The dwarf and the dark elf showered the paladin with a hail of blows from arrows and spells.

Finally, messages poured in from the system signaling that the battle was over:

You have destroyed Dark Zombie Level 15.Dark Zombie Level 15.

Reward: Experience +5

You have destroyed Dark Zombie Level 13.Dark Zombie Level 13.

Reward: Experience +4

You have destroyed Dark Paladin Level 18.Dark Paladin Level 18.

Reward: Experience +16

Experience to the next level: 1165 (+25) \1200

From the first zombie crumbling to dust, old leather boots remained lying on the ground, which Max appropriated with general silent agreement, having previously walked barefoot through the dungeons.

The deeper the dungeons went underground, the worse Max’s companions felt. The dwarf was covered in sweat and drank one healing potion after another.

“It’s even worse underground than above…” he groaned.

“I don’t feel anything.” Max confessed. “What kind of damage is killing you?”

“Maybe he is still cursed? Monsters do not receive damage from the cursed land.” The elf’s voice seemed to joke, but the dull click of the cocked crossbow string in the stone arched vaults of the tunnel sounded loud and eloquent enough to make it clear that she still did not fully trust Max.

“Come on, you still go first, Arthur.” she picked up the dwarf’s joke. “Moreover, you see traps so well in the dark.”

Letting Max go ahead, she herself went behind everyone. So that the dwarf with the torch was between them.

“The mobs don’t feel you. And you don’t receive damage from the cursed land, and we will feel more comfortable this way,” she explained.

However, it was not quiet in the tunnels.

At the edge of the torchlit area of the floor, where the light barely broke through the darkness, something was constantly moving. Shadows writhed, and from time to time there was a scraping of claws on the stone slabs, creating an ominous symphony that made the blood run cold in the veins. The flashes of red eyes in the darkness, sparkling like embers, looked especially creepy, as if dormant predators were waiting for the right moment to attack.

Max and his comrades felt fear penetrate their hearts, and every sound seemed like a harbinger of something terrible. It was like a nightmare, but with the only difference that there was no way to wake up here. Unlike the dream world, where it was possible to avoid encountering nightmares at any moment by waking up, here they had to fight.

Each moment of waiting became more and more unbearable. Max felt his palms sweating and adrenaline surging through his blood. He knew that something terrible could jump out of the darkness at any moment, and the only way to survive was to fight these monsters. He gathered all his determination to move on and, looking at his comrades, thanked the gods that he was not alone here. At that moment, he felt a connection with these people, whom he had recently considered strangers.

“Oh my…” Redbird stood up, frozen in horror.

Hundreds of red eyes were already looking at them from the darkness.

“It’s just rats,” said Darriel, trying to hide her own fear.

“There are probably thousands of them under the hill here,” the dwarf gasped, realizing the scale of the danger.

“As long as the torch is burning, they won’t attack. Move forward, redbeard.” the girl pushed the dwarf in the back. “Animals are afraid of fire, even cursed ones,” she said like a professional monster hunter. “But don’t stop, go forward, the torch will burn out and we are corpses. We must find a way out to the top at any cost. And quickly… Max, keep up!”

They wandered through the labyrinth without finding a way out, the torch was burning out, the elixirs were running out.

The corridor unexpectedly widened, turning into a small cave. A rift in the wall of the tunnel revealed a side room. Artem, who was walking ahead with the torch, froze on the spot, gasping in surprise.

Dasha, ready for another manifestation of the dwarf’s grumbling, looked over his shoulder, but instead saw something that made her open her mouth slightly.

Maxim squeezed forward to see what had struck them so much.

“Well, well,” Artem muttered, “Looks like someone overdid it with the night lighting.”

Before them stretched a room lit by an unearthly, pulsating light. It was not the light of fire, but of something living, organic. Light emanating from hundreds, thousands of creatures covering the walls, floor and ceiling.

The room was filled with glowing slugs. They were of different sizes from small, the size of a fist, to large, like dogs. They slowly crawled along the walls and floor, leaving a luminous trail behind them, as if drawing patterns in the darkness.

Maxim felt a mixture of admiration and anxiety. The room was incredibly beautiful, but it exuded some kind of danger.

“What is it…?” Dasha whispered, amazed by what she saw.

“Slugs?” Max asked, a little uncertain.

“Slugs,” Artem confirmed, with obvious disgust in his voice. “Glowing. And, according to rumors, very unfriendly.”

In the midst of all this shining, slimy splendor, in the center of the room stood… a chest. Old, lopsided, as if it were made from the remnants of other chests.

It was covered in cobwebs and covered with a layer of dust. It was clear that no one had touched it for a long time. A chest that was just screaming: “I’m a trap! Don’t open me!”

The experienced dwarf looked at the chest, then at the slugs, then back at the chest. “You know,” he said, “I’m starting to think that this is exactly the case when the best thing to do is just turn around and leave. Preferably quickly. A chest… In such a place… It’s too suspicious.”

Dasha shook her head. Her face expressed complete agreement. “Well, I’m definitely not going there. No way.”

“Why?” Max asked.

Dasha looked at him with horror in her eyes. “Don’t you know about the glowing slugs? They say they dissolve everything they touch! Weapons, armor, even… clothes!” She shuddered. “Can you imagine going back to the city naked? That’s probably even worse than being eaten by zombie rats!”

Artem nodded. “I’ve heard of that. Old miners told stories. If you get into their slime, you can say goodbye to your armor.”

“And not only with armor,” Dasha added, her voice trembling. “I’ve heard stories about people who accidentally touched their slime and lost fingers, arms, even whole legs!”

Maxim looked at the slugs. They looked harmless, but, judging by the words of Dasha and Artem, they were very dangerous.

“But there might be something valuable in the chest,” Maxim said, still not having even a weapon. “A hint or something that will help us get out of here.”

“Or maybe there’s just an evil mimic,” Artem remarked. “Have you thought about that? Is it worth it?” Artem continued, looking skeptically at the chest. “Risking your life for some junk?”

The room was humid and warm. The air was filled with a faint smell of rot and some kind of chemical sweetness. Muffled gurgling and rustling sounds were heard.

“I want to see.” Max said.

Dasha squeezed his hand. “Please, Maxim, don’t go there. It’s too dangerous. We’ll find another way out.”

“But if I don’t try, we’ll never know what’s inside.” Maxim said, smiling at her. “What if this is our only chance?”

“But why you?” Dasha asked. “Let Artem go. He at least has armor.”

Artem shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m not going to risk my armor for some chest.”

Maxim looked at his novice rags. “I have nothing anyway,” he said. “If I touch the slime, I won’t lose anything.”

Dasha grabbed his hand even tighter. “Don’t say that! Your life is more precious than any chest!”

“Listen, why really take such a risk?” Artem looked at Maxim with concern. “We have no guarantee that there is anything there at all. And then, there are things worse than death, you know.”

“Yes,” Daria chimed in. “For example, losing your favorite boots because of some slugs.”

Maxim looked at his boots. Rather, at what was left of them. He was wearing a novice’s rags, which would most likely dissolve even from looking at the slugs. He wasn’t wearing armor, he didn’t have weapons either. It seemed the risk was minimal.

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