When the login screen returned, everything was different. The Obsidian Spire was gone. Aethelgard was green again, sunlight pouring through a blue sky. The thirty-seven ghosts were gone—freed to whatever lies after deletion.
Keys froze. “You’re the real final boss.” raidofgame
“I am the trap. The Architect is my warden—and my jailer. He cannot destroy me, so he lures players here to entertain me. Those five players before you? I absorbed them. They are part of me now. Including your brother.” When the login screen returned, everything was different