XVII Horizon of Battle

  Morning comes slow. I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, the faint spin of the fan throwing lazy shadows across the room. My body feels fine, better than fine really, but my mind hums like an overworked circuit. That’s the part that never seems to rest anymore. I can come back from a war in Nod, having slept for a few hours, and wake without so much as a sore muscle. But the pressure in my skull, the static behind my thoughts, it’s always there. Maybe I should start meditating or something. If I’m going to keep living two lives, I’ll need to find a way to make the human one last.

  The quiet hum of my apartment fills the space between thoughts. Refrigerator. Router. The soft electrical drone of everything that keeps a life running. It’s almost like the resonance, just duller, less alive. I let my eyes drift toward the faint morning light creeping through the blinds and think about calling in sick again. But I can’t. I don’t know if that faith payout was a one-time fluke or the start of something real. I can’t plan around miracles

  With a sigh, I pull myself out of bed and start my morning routine. Shower, shirt, coffee. The same motions grounding me back in reality. By the time I’m dressed, the ache behind my eyes has dulled to a manageable hum.

  Outside, the air bites cold, but the city is already alive. When I reach the bus stop, I nearly laugh; the entire side of the bus pulling up in front of me is plastered with a massive ad for Nod. The logo burns bright across the metal like a brand, “OBSERVE A WORLD WITHOUT LIMITS” scrolling above an image of a king silhouetted by a crimson sky.

  I take a seat near the back, earbuds in but no music playing, just watching the city slide by. Every stop seems to have another poster: billboards, window decals, bus shelters, all painted in golds and violets. The game isn’t just popular now. It’s everywhere.

  Then, halfway to the office, the bus rounds a bend, and I see it, a full billboard hanging over the expressway. A towering image of me, of Kyris. The three-pronged crown blazing like a halo over black armor, the headline in bold white text:

  CH100 — RISING STAR?

  For a moment, I just stare. There’s a strange mix of pride and dread crawling in my chest. Good for faith, sure, but that kind of attention draws eyes, eyes I’d rather not have on me. Other kings, other watchers. The more they see me, the more dangerous this gets.

  I turn away from the window and watch the reflection instead, the city blurring behind my own faint outline. I need to be careful. Fame in Nod isn’t just fame, it’s a signal fire. And fire attracts things best left in the dark.

  Work goes by smoother than usual, a quiet hum of keyboards and phones instead of the usual chaos. Jason is in full speech mode near the breakroom, voice booming about his glory days. I half expect him to start selling tickets to his talk. Every few sentences I picture holding up a scorecard, rating his motivational monologue like an Olympic event. I stand idle nearby listening in, waiting for the opportune moment to get my food from the fridge without catching any attention from him. “When I ran my first startup, we didn’t have these fancy CRM tools or automation programs,” he says, pacing like a motivational speaker. “Eighty calls a day, every single one by hand. That’s how you build a client base.” A few coworkers nod politely while scrolling their phones.

  Des drifts over during the impromptu hostage seminar, leaning against the wall beside me with her coffee. “You look like you’ve got a bit more life in your bones today,” she says, studying me. “Something change in your routine?”

  I smile, keeping it light. “Just been making more time for friends,” I say. “Trying to work on something that actually means something to me.”

  She raises an eyebrow, clearly curious but not pushing. “Good. It suits you. My son keeps talking about that new VR game, Nod. Says it’s like a mix between a fantasy game and a dream. You heard of it? Seems like the kind of thing you’d be into.”

  I keep my tone even, sipping from my mug. “Yeah, I’ve heard about it,” I say. “I try to stay away from things that get that popular, at least until things settle down a bit. These kinds of games can rise fast and fall hard.”

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  Des chuckles and gives me a knowing look before walking off to her desk. I finish the rest of my coffee and retreat back to my server room, my dungeon. The hum of fans and the soft blue glow of monitors are oddly comforting.

  I finish the weekly peripheral inventory, marking down cables, drives, and routers, then let the silence settle. When there’s finally no one around, I pull up the Nod directory.

  It’s been a little over a week since launch, and the map looks like a living organism now, kingdoms sprawling, borders pulsing with activity. Some territories have begun to clash. I can’t let the lack of information be what destroys my Dominion. I start scrolling, taking notes on anything that stands out.

  Victor mentioned the Clockfather before, the king of the Iron Choir. I search his channel, CH34, and my stomach tightens at what I find. His once perfectly synchronized city is now a warzone. The patrols still march, but half the streets are burning, gears stripped from towers, the rhythmic chimes replaced by alarms. The chat is chaos: reports of siege lines, burned districts, entire quarters gone silent. The invader’s name flashes on-screen: King Rauth of the Onyx March. His banners are black iron and fractured silver, his troops machines of bone and steel. Whatever he’s building, it’s not just conquest, it’s annihilation. I bookmark the feed.

  This king might be a problem later.

  I jot notes on the idea of full-scale war: formation sizes, resource demands, the chaos of defending multiple fronts. I can’t afford to fall behind. The Ashwing nearly wiped me out, and that was just a single creature. If I’m ever forced to fight another king, I’ll need more soldiers, thousands more.

  As I scroll through the live feeds, I notice something else. Nod isn’t just a game anymore. Influencers, streamers, even talk show hosts are covering it. There are news anchors summarizing the Hundred’s daily events like it’s global politics. Clips of sieges, alliances, speeches, an entire world unfolding in real time. Network TV is even picking up the biggest stories.

  Thankfully, Channel 100 isn’t in the spotlight as much as some others. The Cleric King dominates headlines, all holy wars and sanctified rhetoric. That’s fine by me. Let the light draw their eyes. I prefer the dark.

  I flip through the list of kingdoms, noting the ones marked inactive. None of the thrones are empty beyond normal logouts. No mourning, no collapsed chats. No sign that any king has lost all three lives yet. Maybe no one has. Maybe we won’t even know when it happens.

  Still, the thought lingers: when one of the Hundred finally falls, will we feel it? Or will Nod just swallow their kingdom whole, leaving silence where a world once was?

  I can’t ever let that happen to me. After the Ashwing fight, I need to secure my borders and gather allies.

  I pull up the regional view of Nod, my pulse quickening as the map unfolds in front of me. The lights flicker like stars, each representing a ruler with their own will and army. Fear mingles with fascination, the scope of it all, the realization that these glowing points are living, breathing kingdoms, all with players like me behind them. My focus sharpens, the hum of the server fans fading into the background as strategy and curiosity start to take over. I scan the surrounding kingdoms near my Dominion. Each pulse of light marks another ruler, another potential threat or ally. I need to do deeper research, gain an advantage if they’re hostile, and learn everything I can if they’re worth befriending. Then it hits me; I don’t have to do this alone. Victor said he could help me dig through these records. He’s always had a sharp eye for mechanics, catching tells and patterns that I miss. If he helps, we could work twice as fast. Maybe he could even plant messages in their chats, make them more open to cooperation.

  I jot down the first few names and notes. A flying kingdom of reptilian avians led by a queen. Their territory floats across the sky on colossal crystals that pulse with magic, each one the size of a small island. She keeps her cities airborne, drifting on the wind, rarely seen on the ground.

  To the south, an oceanic realm rules the waters, its castle a massive sunken ship commanded by a merfolk queen. Her following is enormous, chat filled with devotees who speak of her like a deity. She’s already at war with several nearby nations, claiming to fight for justice against the tyranny of the Cleric King. She could become an ally or a problem depending on how that righteousness cuts.

  Far north of Thalos’s red wastes, the climate shifts again. Mountains and pine forests, heavy snow blanketing the land. There, a feral kingdom thrives, a settlement of beastmen and shapeshifters. No visible king online, just a chaotic feed of celebration and carnage. The population feasts on raw meat, their howls echoing over the frost. Wild, uncontrolled, maybe even untamable. Considering how the world sees me and my people, I hesitate. Judging them by their savagery feels hypocritical, and shame pricks the back of my mind. Just because they look feral doesn’t mean peace is impossible. Still, I can’t shake the wariness in my chest. I’ll need to approach them carefully, see if an alliance is even possible.

  After logging my observations, I message Victor and tell him about the three kingdoms, asking if he can help me research and cross-reference anything he finds. He replies almost instantly: “Giving me Nod homework? I’m down for that. Deep dives are my jam.”

  When the clock finally hits five, I shut everything down and head home. The walk to the bus is brisk, the evening air cool against my face. By the time I get to my apartment, the city is alive with neon and the faint hum of traffic.

  I heat up leftovers from the restaurant Victor and Scott dragged me to and eat standing at the counter, half-thinking about battle formations, half-lost in memory. I take melatonin instead of the insomnia meds tonight. I need to break that habit before it becomes a chain. Once I’m ready, I set my alarm and lie down, letting the city fade around me.

  Training with the captains waits on the other side of sleep. The Dominion must be ready. War is inevitable.