The din of battle did not diminish.
From the bottom of the trench, I could hear the detonations following one another above me, sometimes close enough to make the earth vibrate around my hands.
Silhouettes regularly crossed my field of vision before disappearing behind the makeshift barricades, while voices shouted orders in languages I barely understood.
The translation didn't seem to work properly here.
My left shoulder still hurt, but it wasn't the pain that held my attention anymore. My watch is in a thousand pieces; I'll need a new one.
No more red notifications were floating above my head.
No more messages were notifying me.
Yet, both sides continued to fight as if their entire existence depended on this battle; it was like a parallel world.
I gradually and slightly raised my head above the edge of the trench.
a true decadence.
On the right, the American players occupied a defensive line made up of metal plates, overturned vehicles, and sandbags. They wore relatively modern equipment and moved in small groups, covering their movements with a certain discipline.
On the left, the Indian players had set up their own defensive line several dozen meters away. Their formation was very compact; they seemed more numerous in this part of the battlefield.
Between the two camps stretched a completely devastated area.
And in the middle of this area…
I squinted to see better.
A chest.
He was very small.
Its dark surface absorbed almost all the surrounding light, and despite the explosions occurring around it, it did not move and appeared to suffer no damage.
The players were fighting for him?
He didn't know the rules of this area. He didn't know how many players were still alive, how many lives each had, what exactly this chest did, and above all, what would happen if one of the two sides discovered it.
I glanced at his shoulder before looking away.
– What a curse...
My voice was lost in the din.
He thought of the cursed cube that had sent him here.
Then to the one who was in the center of the battlefield.
no doubt also cursed.
Two different places.
But the same architecture.
He was beginning to suspect that they were not independent.
BOOM
An explosion suddenly rang out a few meters from his position.
I pressed myself against the ground again as debris fell around me.
I waited a few seconds before raising my head.
– ah
A player slipped and collapsed in my trench.
He was wearing the uniform of the Indian camp.
I lunge at him and cover his lips. The player doesn't move.
Then two other figures follow behind him.
They were all dead.
I couldn't stay there any longer, I took off the least stained jacket, put it over my shoulder and jumped out of the trench before the footsteps got closer.
– He's an Indian!
– Catch the
– kill them all
Ki-Moon slowed down for a fraction of a second.
A man blocked his path and immediately raised his weapon.
I raised my hands.
– Attends.
– Who are you?
The question was asked in English.
Ki-Moon understood enough to respond.
- ...…. I am
The Indian did not lower his weapon.
– Your team?
Ki-Moon hesitates.
Telling the truth would bring him nothing.
Lying is no better.
So he chose an answer that didn't require him to lie.
silence
A strange atmosphere settled between them despite the explosions that were still shaking the battlefield.
The man looked Ki-Moon up and down.
– you will be a hostage.
I did not reply.
The man threw me a rope.
– buckle up
I was about to pick up the rope when a bright signal suddenly appeared in the sky.
The player looks up.
A huge red projection had just formed above the battlefield.
I took advantage of the situation and ran until theHaving left this area,