A bell rang. Erel watched the city of Razam, the last fortress, from the North Tower of the castle. It stood in the center of the valley, close to the sparkling water of Lake Serenity. Beyond the fields, beautiful forests surrounded it. To his eyes, it was the most extraordinary place on the continent, the last refuge against the growing darkness. Fall had come, and the magic crystals of the floating isles sparkled in the sun. Balloons carried usually visitors and mages to the isles, but today their fragile silks had been forced to leave the city to hide above the clouds.  

Erel was proud to lead the defense of such a beautiful place in these difficult times. His clan had broken a game record by reaching the ending so fast, and this victory would lead his clan straight to the top of the Scoreboard of Razam.

To the west, the Lich Overlord had gathered his undead troops. To the south, bristled the spears of the orc clans as far as he could see. Against them, too few soldiers manned the battlements. The wars against the undead had dwindled their numbers, as was expected in the last battle of Razam. Erel had done his best to gather all those strong enough to fight, and he had made sure his troops wore good armor. The Overlord had used dark spells and potions to transform his warriors into ravening beasts. Would his best efforts be enough against the forces of darkness?

Erel searched the forests for clues of the presence of his allies. All his plans required the support of both elves and dwarves, and they hadn’t shown up yet. But in the thick bushes, they could have reached their position and remained invisible to strike at the predefined moment. He had to trust them.

Incoming message—priority orange.

He shook his head in surprise. This wasn’t the time to read his messages. Yes, he had reactivated his alerts to track the postings on the scoreboard, but he had first to win before celebrating.

When they had escaped the dungeon of the goblin master, the dwarf king Genaric had promised he would reach him in time. Where was he? He had always been his best friend in all the games he had played, even if they had fought between themselves as much as with their enemies. He was stubborn and didn’t always listen to those around him, but you could count on one thing with him. Genaric wanted to win more than anything else. He was their spearpoint, the strongest fighter, and he dreamed of finishing the Lich Overlord in hand-to-hand combat.

And where was Zounia, the elf queen who gathered their northern allies? If Erel managed the clan’s tactics, she was their strategist, digesting entire conflicts to find the best options. But with the death of her love Garen, banning him from the last level of the game, she was less focused and concerned by their victory. He missed Garen, but he was sure he watched them from the VR replays.

Drums of war echoed in the valley, and the Lich Overlord launched the first wave of skeleton warriors. It stretched from one side to the valley to the other and yet represented less than a tenth of his strength. Erel raised his flag to his second-in-command, Dinam, behind him. She, the Weapon Master of the Southern Reaches, had traveled all the way with him, and he couldn’t imagine a fight without her. Dinam, Genaric, Zounia, and Erel had built the strongest gaming clan in years, and Dinam was their heart.  

At her signal, the catapults fired all at once, and the shower of rocks broke the skeletons into pieces. They were powerful warriors, but fragile. All was going according to plan. Dinam had been right about the catapults. She always saw what they missed, Zounia or Erel, and she made him laugh when he couldn’t. He smiled. Their plan would work.

Suddenly, the orc clans launched their attacks all at the same time. He had hoped they would attack one at a time, as was common between the clans. Instead, the hordes ran all together toward his under-manned flanks. Zounia had discounted that tactic as the least likely. She had been wrong.

He cursed when another message blinked behind his eyes.

Incoming message—priority red

This wasn’t the time to leave the game. Erel swore again. Red priority messages were rare, barely ever used, and this one came at a bad time when the game was still uncertain. He checked the battlefield and found a new flag to the South. The Evil Master of Zao had joined the battle. What a ridiculous name, thought Erel for the thousandth time. He was the power behind the orc’s attack, and he was here too early. This had never happened before in Razam. Was this AI adjusting the game?

Erel searched Dinam’s eyes. The master’s move meant he would lose more soldiers than he had expected. Dinam nodded. She couldn’t stop the master, but if she led the Amazons in a last charge against him, they would trap the Evil Master where they had planned initially, and their plan would lead him to success.

Incoming message—priority FLASH

Flash? Erel had heard about flash messages, the highest priority, but they were close to a legend. None of his friends had ever received a message with flash priority. Was it a prank? Had other players found a hack to distract him? That would be cheating, but unless the crew found out, no one would care. If he left the game now, who knew what would happen? He was so close to victory…. The message flashed again. Flash priority? He hesitated a minute more and activated the mental override to return to the system interface. He would be off just for a few seconds, just the time to understand what was happening, and then he would be back for the final fight. Ship’s time and game’s time weren’t the same, anyway.