Van clenched his teeth. "But Draco won't know you're dead; they'll still think you're alive."
"They'll know," Kylian grunted. "They'll know. Goodbye, Van. Make sure you disconnect Capello before the final fight. That kid doesn’t need to be wasting his life on a stupid video game." And with that, Kylian's health bar dropped down to zero and he ceased moving entirely.
"What a bummer," Sahara said as she dropped her head. "That guy was really cool."
Van didn't feel any tears welling up in his eyes. He was surprised, because he'd always thought he wouldn't be able to handle the death of a comrade, but all he could feel at this exact moment was anger. He felt the anger well up within him and it was unbridled. There was no time for sorrow. There was no time to lament the death of a comrade. There would be time for crying and weeping after Draco was utterly obliterated.
"Well, uh, that was an odd turn of events," Peterson said nervously. "I guess we win."
"Yeah," Van muttered to himself as he clenched his fists tightly. "I guess we win."
As they all looked at one another, unsure of what to do next, a loud trumpet sounded in the distance. It was quite loud, and it continued to blare for a few minutes.
"Congratulations!" said a disembodied voice. "You five have achieved what a great many have failed to achieve! You have won the End of Ages Tournament, and in the process, you have earned a seat at the hand of Draco. You are now members of the elite – you are Draco professionals, and the world itself will tremble before your glory!"
The word Congratulations appeared high above them and a few fireworks began going off in the background. Van felt sick as he watched the sparkling word bounce happily above them.
"Each of you will be receiving a packet that details what it means to be a part of Draco. But first, we must warn you: for security reasons, we would highly suggest that all of you log out and review your packet. The feast begins tonight at 8 p.m. and will last until midnight. You will have the instructions on how to reach the feast's location in your packet. Thank you for your hard work; now, get some rest. You deserve it."
The words You can Log Out! appeared in front of Van. The ability to leave the game had been disabled for way too long, and he was relieved to see that this wasn't some kind of sick trick. They had managed to sneak past Draco's system. A pdf document was sent to his character email and he quickly opened it up to read through it. There was quite a bit of information to be consumed, but the very first section talked about Secure Zones.
"All Draco pro's are highly encouraged to immediately find a secure zone," the document read. There was a large picture of a map of the United States with seven areas highlighted across the country. "These security zones are designated to protect your server access while we upgrade. Each secure zone is a hotel where all of your expenses, and even incidentals, are covered. Please enjoy your week-long vacation. Plane tickets will be provided to those who cannot afford them, and reimbursement will be given to those who request it. The server upgrades will begin at midnight tonight; please be in a secure zone by that point if you wish to continue your employment as a Draco professional."
"Oh crap," Van muttered as he read the document. 'Server upgrade' sounded like a euphemism for the utter destruction of the United States.
"Free hotel for a week?" Peterson said. "Now that's a good deal!"
"Yeah," Sang said as she also read the document. "You could say it's the deal of a lifetime."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"We've got four hours!" Van said as he paced back and forth in his bedroom. "Four hours before the feast."
"Yeah," Sang said. She was sitting on his bed and reading through a print-out of the New Pro Primer they had received. "This is so fascinating. The instructions are so innocuous sounding, but if you actually know what's going on, you can totally pick up on the fact that the end of the world is about to happen."
"I'm freaking out here," Van said.
"I am, too," Sang replied as she flipped through another page.
"You are not freaking out," Van said. "You're sitting there, calm as a clam, reading! How can you read at a time like this?"
"Because reading is the only way we're going to figure out how to move Bidane's forces right over to the Feast Hall," Sang replied.
"We're on the edge here," Van said. "We're so close."
"Yup," Sang said. Her expression never changed as she continued to focus on the document. Van could not believe how composed she was at this moment.
"I don't understand how you're this calm," Van said as he sat on the bed next to her. He bounced up and down a little bit.
"It's like this," Sang said without looking up at him. "I can freak out right now and cost us the mission, or I can freak out later when it won't cause the doom of all of humanity. You can't do anything until we've deciphered this document, so you have plenty of free time to lose your freaking mind. If you were busy doing something and I had time to relax, I'd be freaking out instead of you."
"Oh," Van said, breathing in sharply. The anxiety was killing him. "Yeah, that makes sense. I guess that makes a lot of sense."
"I think I've figured out how we can get the Iron Dragons to the feast hall," Sang said, "but it's gonna take some work on my part. Do me a favor? Go find Neil and ask him what they learned from the mole."
Van nodded. "Sure thing, Sang," he said as he stood to his feet. He started to walk off, but paused. He looked back at her. "Hey, I just want to say that, back there, that… that was a really rough situation to be in. I don't know if we would have survived without you. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Sang said without looking at him. "Now go find Neil."
Van walked off, thinking hard about what the future would hold for him. They were on the edge here. All they had to do was figure out a route to get the Iron Dragons into position, and then they would be set. The fight against the Dragon Emperor would be intense, but Van was confident that he could win. The plan was a simple one, really. They wouldn't activate the lethal system until the last minute, leaving the Emperor overconfident. If he wasn't feeling any real threat, he would most likely just toy around with the Iron Dragons. Then, in the last possible second, everything would become lethal and he wouldn't have enough time to react. The death of a leader would be enough, Van thought, to throw everything into chaos. At least, Van hoped that would be the case.
Van reached one of the staff rooms and looked at the man who was standing guard. He was armed with a rifle and was waiting patiently. There were soldiers from the military all over the place, but since Sang had told him about the nutjob who'd shot himself, Van was extra cautious around them.
Van nodded at the guard and opened the door to see Neil and O'Hara sitting at a table, eating ice cream.
"There he is!" Neil said. "The man of the hour! I heard you led your team to real victory in that virtual puzzle thing!"
"It was a group effort," Van replied as he sat down across from the two. They were both scooping Neapolitan out of a large cardboard container. There were quite a few bowls in the center of the table, and Van reached for one, only to be slapped away by O'Hara.
"That's for the staff only," O'Hara said.
"I'm technically staff here," Van said. "In fact, I'm running this whole thing."
"That is true," Neil said. "This might be the painkillers talking, but we should let the guy have a bowl."
"Okay, now I definitely know those are the painkillers talking," Van said as he reached out to grab a bowl again. "But I'll take advantage of you while you're not lucid."
O'Hara reluctantly put a few scoops of ice cream into Van's bowl and threw a plastic spoon over to him. He still had no idea why these two didn't seem to like him, but he was so used to it at this point that he no longer bothered to try and figure it out.