“They’re getting smarter,” said Mikal, her spotter, not looking up from his cracked data-slate. “Look at the formation. That’s a new script. The mage kites the mob while the melee loots. Zero downtime.”

“It’s not a game anymore,” Elara whispered. “It’s a spreadsheet.”

They weren't grinding anymore. They were hunting.

They were ghosts. Digital puppets.

Elara looked at her rifle. Then at the treaty stone. Then at the endless, grinding swarm.

Behind her, the summoner managed to stand up. He raised his staff, trembling. And in the safe zone, a dozen sleeping players, their Bots suddenly diverted, woke up to the sound of gunfire. They looked at their screens.

The war had just begun.

“Pull him in!” Elara shouted.