Ep14. Player, Versus, Player. (3)

A sharp hiss rose as the fuse of the buried trap ignited. It was a faint sound to those on the ground above, but the nearby players sensed the danger and reacted instantly. With no BGM to drown it out, the warning rang crystal clear.

Players who had used these traps countless times themselves tried to evade in their own ways, but...

Weapons meant for enemies couldn't be dodged so easily. The players were trapped within the preset 'range' of the traps, unable to escape, reduced to futile steps in place before the explosions engulfed them. No matter how seasoned they were in the game, they couldn't instantly react to craters blasted open by blasts.

"……!"

Having witnessed another player die right before their eyes, they backed away, scanning their surroundings warily.

Exploding traps littered this clearing. And they knew full well that was impossible.

These were consumables that players had to install themselves to easily handle NPCs. Who the hell had set these up?

A few players, deep in thought, opened their game interface and recalled the 'event' that had drawn them here.

But how had all these players, including themselves, gathered in one map? New arrivals had no clue.

Whoosh.

Some of the retreating players heard a familiar sound right underfoot again.

They flew into the air, shredded by incoming blades before they even knew what hit them, collapsing to the ground.

'Impressive.'

Aiden Oliver, watching it all, shifted his gaze to a wider view.

'Players are starting to land even outside the clearing now.'

Even as the traps triggered to begin the 'cleanup,' more bizarrely dressed players arrived via fast travel to the Abandoned Residence. The latecomers, finding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no space in the clearing, spawned a bit farther out. But Loqi Mendacium had plenty of traps beyond the clearing too—no problem yet.

'Only a player could lure players like this.'

Aiden was quietly impressed. Roughly thirty visible now—one-third of all players in the game. Of those ninety, twenty-five had been here a week already, so over half the 'newbies' had been baited by Sephirah.

She'd heard there was a chat space for texting, but luring strangers she'd never met was purely her idea.

The player count, rising only from traps, had been temporarily culled. But players were players, after all—no more deaths from blasts or blades.

Convinced these ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were the same traps they'd used forever, players froze, staring at the ground. Activating Focus to track human traces and dangers, they mapped trap ranges and found safe blind spots.

Armed with impractical-looking gear, they ran while fixated on the ground.

Thud, thud, thud!

They moved to spots outside the circular trap ranges, securing safety. Loqi had packed them densely to minimize blind spots, but triggered areas were now safe. As players did what they always did—exploit crises—Sephirah explained to Aiden like it was her fault.

"...For now, they won't stray far. The system's treating this as combat."

"What's next? I get they can't fast travel right away, but they won't just take it or fight each other."

"Time we stepped in. Get ready."

Sephirah rose from behind the railing, aiming to reignite the lull in chaos. That was the plan. Clever ideas had handled the lure; now gathered, no room for novelty. Hold the high ground, rain ranged attacks, wipe them out. But Aiden felt something missing.

"You and Hasselhoff go down. I'll handle traps carefully... Aiden?"

"Sephirah, hold on."

Aiden cut her off. She looked puzzled, sensing urgency. It was lacking. Luring and culling numbers was perfect, but Aiden's group was outnumbered. Unlike players who barely knew each other, Aiden was a known NPC. If any targeted "kill the NPC in the chaos," they were done.

'Need one more way to grab player attention...'

Something to freeze them or pit them against each other. A surefire way to thin them in the confusion.

'Got it.'

Aiden recalled something that might work.

He summoned the ever-present window. This time, blank. Its base function visualized voice info for sharing. If filled text worked, why not write on a blank one?

Aiden had tested his abilities while waiting, confirming his hunch.

Slide.

Flipping the UI rotated the text with it, relative to him. Unlike Claire's fixed text, it now read straight for those facing him.

Scribble, scribble.

Next, he wrote a line to snag player eyes. As an NPC, winning favor was impossible, but attention was enough—no hesitation.

"Everyone, look down again."

Finally, he floated the UI high above the railing, extending his hand. Scaled to him, it grew massive, visible from afar. Text ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faced the clearing. Size ensured all saw.

"...This."

"Hope it's not a bad idea... What do you think?"

"You're insane."

Aiden glanced aside. The phrase alone didn't reveal intent. Sephirah's face mixed awe and admiration. Perfect improv.

'They're reacting?'

He checked the clearing. Footsteps had stopped. Couldn't see faces, and visible players were expressionless—maybe couldn't emote. But it worked. All stood frozen, staring at his UI.

"Good. Sephirah? Or Hasselhoff."

"Y-yeah."

"Whatever. Think of player-friendly lines."

"Player-friendly...?"

"One more UI. Need more to hold their eyes."

"Ah."

Sephirah clapped softly. Hasselhoff approached, overhearing. Her idea from "everyone has personal UI" landed well. Two words later, they suggested content.

"Use polite speech. Tell them to kill each other now."

"Leave the rest to me?"

"Follow the format, it'll fool them."

"Format, huh."

Confident, Aiden agreed to fill it. The familiar polite, advisory voice tone. Unsure if "kill each other" would fly, but their advice was best.

"……."

Silence fell after the new UI. Uncertainty bred anxiety. Wrong format? Spotted manipulating from up here?

As if to heighten dread, an armored player raised its sword with a metallic clank.

The blade cleaved the torso of the player beside it clean through.

Player capacity dropped on confirmed death. Watchers now trusted it showed survivors.

Clank, click.

Remaining players glared at each other. Chaos sharpened their narrowed vision anew: blast craters, severed limbs, dozens left, more incoming afar, clear skies.

They charged, attacking others to survive. A bolt pierced a sword user's head mid-swing; another targeted a mage's hands with quick wits.

To survive.

"Good. Time to move."

Aiden finally stood. Thirty players below, adeptly assaulting their own kind while dodging traps. Impressive, yet foolish for blindly following his UI.

"Hasselhoff, come down as discussed. Sephirah, you planned to help from up here anyway—do your thing."

"...Yeah."

A strange feeling hit. Surrounded by players yet alive. He'd come fearing death by them, but that future felt distant now. Doing well?

"Hey, old man, what about me?"

Claire asked. Loqi would follow Sephirah's orders, but Claire stuck with Aiden.

"Subdue a few, then move freely."

Essentially "you're good," Aiden leaped from the roof. Hasselhoff followed. Best for now, not knowing her specialty.

Crunch.

No sound from over two stories up—STEALTH effect. Aiden dashed to the nearest cover.

Undetected despite proximity.

"Let's see which players to leave."

Aiden's eyes gleamed from between rocks.