The photon weapon hummed in Arthur's hands, energy cells glowing brighter as it prepared for sustained combat.
Outside, dimensional portals flickered and died one by one. The defective demons that had already entered stayed, and those that wanted to, no longer could.
Gates frowned as he watched the last portal seal itself.
"Arthur... this is bad for us. Your merge information was inaccurate. We're going to lose a lot of credibility from those who saw the video."
Political ramifications. Of course.
"The military will take advantage of that and move public opinion against us."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
The timing discrepancy hadn't been his fault, but perception mattered more than truth in the information age.
Fifty minutes became forty-five. Five minutes of hell that I couldn't predict.
"I couldn't have predicted that demons would bypass universal laws," he muttered with a frown on his face from the unpredictable variable.
"Not one minute early, but five."
The system itself was compromised. How?
Gates nodded with grim understanding. Politics could wait when survival was at stake.
"Sigh... I know. Our current situation isn't ideal. Let's worry about that later. No one has time to pay attention to credibility right now." Arthur continued.
Aftermath will bring consequences. For now, nobody has time to worry about that.
"This will have repercussions after the merge... which hasn't even started yet."
Gates's expression grew solemn, but trust radiated from his posture.
"Alright. If you say Don't worry, I won't worry."
Arthur's countdown timer continued its relentless march; seconds felt like hours under the assault of the demons.
Two minutes until everything changes for real.
New York City - Manhattan
Sarah Anderson pressed herself against her apartment's reinforced door, listening to inhuman shrieks echoing through the hallway outside. Her hands trembled as she clutched her infant daughter closer.
They're in the building.
Her husband Michael stood by the window, his beta player ring glowing faintly on his finger.
He was a C rank awakened; he had the talent, Enhanced Reflexes, nothing spectacular, but enough to survive in Armageddon's early zones.
He could log out. Escape to safety.
"The ring's still active," Michael whispered, his voice cracking. "I could... I could get to safety. Come back when this is over."
When this is over. Will it ever be over?
Sarah's eyes widened with understanding and horror. "You're thinking about leaving me and your child? Are you serious?"
"I'm thinking about surviving!" His voice broke completely. "Sarah, I have a C-rank talent. I can't die in there. I can wait this out, level up, come back stronger."
In his mind, he was being a rational human. Girls could be replaced, and children could be obtained again.
But in reality, he was nothing but a selfish, weak and pathetic man, at least that's what Sarah thought.
Outside their door, something scratched against wood with claws that sounded like rusty metal.
"W-What about us? Y-You... can't leave us...your child...how could you..." Sarah's voice barely rose above a whisper.
Michael's face crumpled with guilt and desperate calculation.
"You have the safe room. Enough supplies for days, don't worry, it's just a few minutes. Once it's all over, I will come back...In the meantime, the military will—"
"The military is gone, Michael. Look outside."
He knows. He knows, and he's still considering it.
Through their window, Manhattan burned.
Smoke pillars rose from dozens of buildings where defective demons had breached. Emergency sirens wailed endlessly, but no help was coming.
Michael's hand moved toward his ring, the motion unconscious.
He's already decided.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, but I can't die here. Not when I have a chance."
The ring flared with light, and he was gone, like he was never there in the first place.
Sarah stood alone in their apartment, holding their daughter, listening to demons tear apart their building floor by floor.
Her facial expressions crumbled as her own husband betrayed her and his child.
Abandoned. But alive.
She moved to the reinforced safe room, sealing the door behind her. Inside, enough supplies to last a week.
But the question was whether she would last those five minutes of hell.
Outside, hell continued its advance.
Some choose family, whilst others choose survival.
David had never touched a video game in his sixty-three years of life. But when the portals opened above the Dome of the Rock, releasing creatures from humanity's oldest nightmares, he understood that he had to do something.
Weapons. We need weapons.
Around him, his community had barricaded itself in large houses. Families huddled together, parents shielding children from sights that would scar souls.
"Uncle David," young Isaac approached, his beta player ring catching candlelight.
"I could go. Get help. Bring back..."
He, too, was thinking of escaping, but his consciousness demanded he got approval first.
"Bring back what, Isaac? This isn't a place you leave and return to unchanged."
Isaac's D-rank talent, Barrier Creation, could protect dozens of people once the merge has occurred. His absence would mean death for half the families present.
"I could find other players."
David's weathered hand found Isaac's shoulder.
"Look around you, son. See this woman holding her grandchildren. See the Khalil family sharing their food with strangers."
See what you're abandoning.
Isaac's eyes filled with tears. "Uncle David...I don't want to die for people I barely know."
"A-Am I a stranger to you Isaac? Really? Are your sister's strangers for you? Is your mother, who had held you in her belly for nine month's a stranger to you? The one who took care of you until now?"
"Just because the world has changed...it doesn't mean that you should change..."
The choice that defines character
Outside, defective demons pounded against the walls. The stone that had stood for centuries groaned under their assault.
Isaac stared at his ring, then at the family depending on his barriers.
Some rise to occasions. Others flee from them.
He gritted his teeth, willing to stay with his family and his community.
"I'll hold," he whispered. "God help me, I'll hold."