Malagor collapsed face-first.
[Target Eliminated. +0 XP]
Zero XP. Figures. I’m the Admin; I don't level up. I just degrade.
The legion of orcs stared at their dead king, then at me. This was the dangerous part. The AI behavior tree for "Leader Dead" usually defaulted to "Flee" or "Berserk." Given that I was a skinny guy in a dirty hoodie holding zero weapons, I was betting on Berserk.
Five hundred orcs roared and drew their scimitars.
"Oh, come on," I groaned. "Can’t we just skip to the cutscene?"
I raised my hand. The migraine flared again, hotter this time, like a soldering iron pressing into my frontal lobe. Blood began to drip from my nose, splashing onto the pristine UI overlay.
[Warning: Local Reality Integrity at 88%. Further edits may cause Sector Crash.]
"Shut up," I told the popup.
I looked at the mountain visible through the massive archway behind the throne. It was a jagged peak of black rock, looming over the castle. I had placed it there for "atmospheric pressure" in Chapter 3.
I selected the mountain.
[Object: Mt_Doom_Placeholder_02]
[Position: X: 4500, Y: 1200, Z: 500]
I highlighted the Y-coordinate (height).
`> Set [Y] = [Y] + 500`
Wait. No. I wanted to drop it on the army, but my vision blurred. My finger slipped on the mental keyboard.
`> Set [Y] = [Y] - 5000`
A deafening boom shattered the world.
It wasn't an explosion. It was the sound of physics breaking.
The mountain didn't fall. It simply... teleported. One second it was in the sky, the next, it was intersecting with the castle. Rock meshed with stone. But the collision engine couldn't handle two massive objects occupying the same space.
GLITCH.
The world screamed. It was a digital screech, like a dial-up modem amplified through a stadium speaker.
The orcs didn't die. They stretched. Their models elongated, pulled into infinite gray spikes of geometry as the reality around them shattered. The floor under my feet turned into a checkered texture of pink and black—the universal sign for "Missing Texture."
"Too much," I gasped, clutching my head. "Too much code."
The castle began to dissolve. Not crumble—delete. Chunks of the ceiling vanished into white void.
I ran. Or, I tried to. I stumbled toward the exit, dodging floating polygons and screaming orcs that were glitching in and out of existence.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.