“Personally, I blame God.”
The two teenagers sat with their eyes glued to the screen, and hands clutching game controllers for dear life. It was Friday night, meaning the living room belonged to their private adventures.
The girl was the taller of the pair, and sat cross legged on the floor. She always made an effort to sit in this matter: she believed it gave her the air of a Zen monk.
Her male counterpart lied along the couch on his back. He gave a good deal of forethought and focus to looking lazy and detached.
On the high-definition screen, a hapless minion of the enemy (whose name had long been forgotten in the haze of explosions and sugar) was engulfed in flame. This brought a smile to Klaus’ face. However transparent their attempts at looking dignified in the real world were, their onscreen avatars were the pinnacle of style and teamwork.
“What? You’re an atheist. I don’t think you get to use that excuse.”
“Not literally. I blame religion.”
CC rolled her eyes. They had this conversation every week, like clockwork. Sometimes she started to think he wanted a debate opponent more than a gaming partner.
“Really Klaus. You think that without religion, there’d never be any wars? At all?”
“Essentially.”
Klaus’s avatar beheaded another agent of the enemy. The henchman’s passing didn’t even warrant a health bonus. He furrowed his brow in concentration.
“So without faith, you think that race, nationalism, resources, and borders would just disappear?”
“Yeah…wait…no…you’re being too literal again.”
CC frowned, and pushed a braided length of hair out her face. “You say that whenever I make a point.”
Klaus judged this as a fine time to change the topic. “Hey, help me break down this door.” said Klaus. “It looks like it’ll need a few hits to be shaken loose.”

Behind the screen and beyond the door, the servants of the enemy awaited death.
It was a simple stone tower. A minor outpost in the countryside, with no real strategic value. But it was ground to hold, and they couldn’t afford to lose any more.
Vice Captain Marius peered through a slot in the barricaded door.
“They approach, Reziel.”
Reziel was the guard captain. He was charged with keeping his squad of seven alive, a duty that was swiftly proving impossible.
“Commands.” he mumbled to himself. “They expect me to give commands…” But there were no orders to give. Ever since this pair had emerged, they had swept across the Empire’s holdings like a hurricane. The pattern was always the same: butcher the guardsmen`, sell their weapons, and collect the thanks of a resentful peasantry. He knew no words to describe the way they fought.
“They fight like demons!” exclaimed Marius, with a shudder.
Marius always had the words Reziel was searching for. He might have become captain instead, if it wasn’t for his propensity for suggesting retreat and surrender a bit too quickly.
Marius’s words seemed to shake the wills of the four other soldiers. Each wore a suit of ill-fitting black armor, clearly designed with style and intimidation in mind, rather than function. They clutched their longswords and hammers as if they were the only things keeping them tied to the earth. As the whirlwind of destruction drew nearer, this threatened to become a literal truth.
Reziel sighed. There was no point in keeping the truth from them any longer.
“Marius may have stumbled upon the truth.” said Reziel, his usually booming voice containing a telltale shake. “In my orders, there was a rumor. No…a theory.”
The Vice-Captain’s eyes widened. “What theory?”
“They are possessed. By the gods of the adversary.”
For several seconds, silence ruled the chamber.
“That’s impossible.” said the archer Markov, breaking the silence. She looked at Marius for reinforcement. He simply shrugged.
Reziel briefly internally questioned the unspoken dialogue, then disregarded it. It was a bit late to worry about fraternization.
“Not impossible.” said the Captain. “They shrug off wounds that kill mortal men. The few times they are slain, they rise again moments later.”
Markov grew indignant. “Why would avatars of the adversary bother with us? That is not-”
“Those are only the confirmed facts.” interrupted the Captain. “The rumors are even more extravagant. Preternatural reflexes. Heretical magic flame. Sight in every direction.”
Markov looked defeated. Marius left his post at the door to console his comrade. His skill as a wordsmith always outmatched his competence as a soldier. He was sure a few quick quotes from the book of the God-Emperor would restore her fighting spirit (though, in truth, he would prefer a full surrender).
After he had taken five steps forward, a glowing sword tip burst through the door, piercing the air where the Vice-Captain had stood moments earlier. The tip retracted, and reappeared on the opposite side of the barricade. In moments, the terrors would enter the tower.
Marius couldn’t think of anything to say.
Reziel drew his claymore. The black handled, oversized weapon denoted rank in the Empire’s system, alongside his silver helmet. They made Reziel feel foolish, but always made would-be peasant revolutionaries think twice.
“There’s nothing to gain here.” he said, squashing the fear in his base tone. “I want the rest of you to go into the basement. There’s a trap door behind the supply crates.”
His men would have been dumbfounded, but the sound of the splintering door quickly restored their senses.
“Marius. You’re Captain now. Keep them going, no matter what you hear.”
The golden armor of the avatars became visible through the cracking door. Yet, for once, Marius showed hesitation to flee.
Reziel turned around. “You’ve always suggested retreat. Let’s see if you’re any good at it. Leave.”
As his men retreated, the door finally burst off of it’s hinges, the barricades thrown aside like pointless decoration. The demons were in view. Reziel raised his sword: the stage was his. For the next few and final moments, he was the center of the world. Maybe the men (and woman) would tell his story.
Klaus paused their universe.

“Looks like a boss battle.” said Klaus. “Might be tough. I’m going to go get some sodas.”
“Why are these guys always alone? You think they’d get some help.”
“Go figure.”