And Adam began to drown again.
And again.
And again.
Between cycles, consciousness flickered. Brief monts of clarity where he stood in the cell, body rigid, mind screaming. But these respites lasted re seconds before the loop reclaid him.
Then, just as the drowning beca almost routine—just as his mind began to build defenses—the scene shifted.
A bedroom. His bedroom. The one he'd shared with Elise before the divorce.
'No. Not this. Anything but this.' He scread hysterically as his mind's defenses had already beco weak from the cycles.
He stood in the hallway, ho early from deploynt. The sounds from the bedroom were unmistakable. His footsteps silent on the carpet as he approached.
The door swung open under his hand.
Elise. Thomas. His wife. His brother.
Their expressions when they saw him—shock, horror, then sothing worse: pity.
"Adam..." Elise remained in position. "We didn't—you weren't supposed to be ho for two more weeks."
As if that made it better.
In the real mory, he'd shot them both. Turned. Left without a word.
In Bloom's version, he couldn't move. Couldn't look away. Was forced to watch as the scene extended beyond mory into a nightmare.
"We never loved you," Elise said, her voice morphing into sothing inhuman. "No one has ever loved you."
Thomas laughed, the sound echoing impossibly. "You were always the weak one. Always the failure."
Their faces stretched, distorted, becoming monstrous reflections of themselves.
"Stop," Adam whispered. "Please stop."
Bloom's voice slid between the cracks of his consciousness. "But we've only just begun. So many fears to explore. So many failures to revisit."
The bedroom dissolved, fragnting into darkness. For one blessed mont, Adam thought it might be over.
Then new images ford.
The loop played again. Different angles. New horrors. Each cycle lasted an eternity, yet sohow also condensed into monts that felt like years.
Sotis in his nightmare, he would see Arthur watching, his expression cold.
In one such mont of clarity, Adam managed to form a coherent thought.
How long have I been here?
Bloom's crystal brightened. "Three minutes, Mr. Adam. Just three minutes."
Horror washed through him. Only three minutes? Impossible.
"Ti moves differently in nightmare," Bloom explained, almost gently. "We have so much more to experience together."
I can't. Please. I'll do anything.
The invisible pollen thickened around Adam's face, pouring into him with renewed vigor.
"Now," Bloom said, "let's move on to your father. The man you could never please. Shall we enhance those mories too?"
Adam's consciousness fractured, splintering into a thousand screaming fragnts as the next loop began.
Outside the cell, Arthur ascended the stone steps back to the village plaza.
Sunlight hit his face as he erged onto the main street of Village #420. The transformation since his first days here struck him anew. What had been a humble starting zone now humd with activity.
Players and natives mingled in the marketplace, the line between them blurring more each day. Construction crews expanded the eastern district.
Guards patrolled the area, stopping to salute as Arthur passed.
"Swordmaster!" A young player called, waving enthusiastically from behind his rchant stall. "Honour to see you today!"
Arthur nodded, maintaining the public persona he'd crafted. Aloof but fair. Powerful but approachable. The protector they all needed for what was coming.
"How goes business?" he asked, pausing at the stall lined with gleaming enchanted daggers.
The boy's face lit up. "Beyond expectations, sir! Since you implented the comrce protections, my profits have tripled. I've finally found a job in this place, being a beta player in this village is truly a blessing, especially under your leadership. I have looked at many forums in the real world, and all the other villages are jealous of our progression."
Arthur allowed himself a small smile.
"That's good. Keep up the good work, don't forget to get stronger too. It's not only about money. You should also improve your strength."
"Yes, Sir!"
Three players huddled outside the blacksmith, their voices rising in heated debate until they spotted Arthur approaching.
"Swordmaster!" The tallest stepped forward.
"We have a dispute about resource allocation. The local judge suggested you might—"
"Walk with ," Arthur interrupted, not breaking stride.
They fell in beside him, explaining their issue.
Arthur resolved it in four sentences, leaving them bowing in gratitude behind him.
He continued his circuit of the village, noting defensive weaknesses, checking construction progress, and most importantly, being seen. Every appearance reinforced his position. Every problem solved bound more players to him when the worlds finally rged.
Outside the newly-constructed training hall, a mixed group of players and natives practised combat manoeuvres under the watchful eyes of the instructors.
As he completed his circuit of the village, Arthur paused near the western wall, gazing out over the expanding settlent.
Players stread out through the gates, pushing themselves to beco stronger.
Below, in the darkness of the prison cell, Adam scread silently into an abyss of his own mories, tortured by a plant with a crystal heart.
Above, in the sunlight, Arthur built his kingdom brick by brick, player by player.
The countdown pulsed, demanding his attention.
[20:00:01]
Twenty hours left. Less than a day before the ti cos.
The notification pulse jarred him from his planning trance.
A ssage from Gates:
"Arthur...We need to talk. In the real world. Sothing big has happened; you need to see it."
His brows furrowed. Gates never reached out without a reason.
"Alright, I'm logging out. Where do we et?"
The response ca imdiately: "Inside the eting room. One of the guards will lead you."
"Okay."
He appeared in the hospital room.
Arthur swung his legs over the bed's edge, slipping his feet into the waiting shoes. No ti to linger.
The door opened before he reached it. A guard stood waiting—one of Gates' private security team. Broad-shouldered, expression carefully neutral beneath a regulation haircut.
"Mr. Arthur, are you ready to go?"
Arthur nodded. "Let's go."
They moved through sterile corridors. As they moved, Arthur couldn't help but notice more guards at the entrances.
Gates has increased security. Why?
The guard led him to a conference room at the end of a long hallway on the top floor. No windows. One entrance. Secure.
"In here, sir."
Arthur stepped through the doorway, instantly alert.
Gates sat at the far end of a polished table, his usual composure completely off.
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