When the Game Stops Being a Game

Curiosity got the better of her. Alexis clicked in.

The stream loaded, and there he was Kael, planted at the edge of the battlement with a longbow in hand, loosing arrow after arrow into the horde below like the outcome had never once been in question.

Behind him, sixteen Bonecaster Mages stood in perfect ranks, grey robes snapping in the wind, staves rising and falling in a rhythm too clean to be sixteen separate minds.

Below the wall, a colossal violet shape thundered through the horde on horseback, cutting through Hollowfang Hounds the way a blade cuts through wheat.

Overhead, something with a two-meter wingspan wreathed itself in crackling blue light and dropped bolt after bolt of lightning into the mass below.

The comment feed didn't slow down long enough to be read in real time.

"Okay, what is the pedigree on these three companion? All of them hit like end-game bosses."