The red barrier parted like liquid and allowed the interceptor to pass through effortlessly.
Sebastian exhaled a slow nasal breath. He was in.
He looked down through the canopy. Server 112 was a sprawling endless cityscape of towering metal spires flying cars and oppressive neon advertisements.
It was a corporate hellscape operating on absolute ruthless efficiency.
And somewhere down there was a Regional Core with his name on it.
——
Above him the gleaming pristine towers of the Upper Ring floated on anti-gravity platforms. That was where the Guild Masters and corporate elites lived in absolute luxury.
But Trent wasn't an elite. Trent was a grunt.
Sebastian's navigation HUD automatically routed him down into the smog-choked
perpetually rainy underbelly of the server.
Sector 4.
It looked a lot like the ruined Earth he had just left behind minus the giant invisible spiders.
