In a grand castle on a different realm, five dark figures with humanoid bodies sat around a heavy obsidian table, plotting their game of human souls. They despised how the Living God favored mortals, and now, they were determined to tip the scales.
"We can't take their bodies or snatch them without divine intervention," one said, gripping a heavy iron staff in his right hand and slamming his fist onto the table.
A female Elder with jagged horns and dark armor leaned forward, a wicked smile twisting her lips. "There's technology we can use. We aren't going to pull them straight from Earth physically; we will transport their minds and souls, trapping them behind the veil."
One of the figures, wearing a heavy, glittering crown, raised a brow. "How will they go unnoticed?"
Silence hung heavy in the room before a massive brute wearing a Viking helmet grunted. "It won't go unnoticed for long. But we can have our terrestrial minions cover for them. Only a very few will recognize the change and spot the imposters."
"And their physical bodies?" the crowned one asked.
The female laughed softly. "That can easily be arranged. They still believe in extraterrestrials. We can have our devoted worshipers spin it as an alien abduction or a government containment protocol. Better yet, we can have their own authorities collect the bodies, disguising it as a public health crisis."
A pale-haired Elder sneered. "We should also use the so-called abominations—those who refused to side with us out of cowardice. We still have them scattered across different realms. Some hide, but the prisoners can be repurposed for our entertainment. Let them be hunted by the very race they feared to defend."
The female laughed manically. "And the lingering psychic residue of human thought? We can harvest it to bring the dark tales written by man to life, adding a bit of chaos to the board."
The crowned figure snorted, resting his chin on his knuckles. "The only souls I care to trap are the humans', but I will allow your excess energy to fuel this little playground."
She gasped, clapping her hands in delight. "Let the games begin!"
A large map of a bruised, untamed world unfurled across the table. Before they dispersed, the crowned one raised a finger. "Three rules. First, the humans cannot truly die in the game unless their physical vessel on Earth perishes. Second, we cannot directly intercede to alter outcomes on a whim. Third, once the rules of the board are established, we must follow them—or face the penalty."
The others looked outraged. "Why must you shackle the game we created?" the female snarled.
The crowned one smiled coldly. "Because I am the Game Master."
Back on Earth, Natalia sat on her edge of her bed, staring blankly at a movie she wasn't tracking. Her room was sparse: a single bed, an office desk, a television stand, a nightstand, and a reading lamp. Her favorite theological books sat neatly on her headboard. But one thing broke the minimalist aesthetic—a poster her mother had given her, featuring a heavily armored knight kneeling with a drawn sword, inscribed with scripture:
"Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God... For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." — Ephesians 6:10-12
Natalia worked as a Security Supervisor at a bustling local hospital. Her mind was still chewing on her shift, mentally drafting training drills to keep her guards sharp. She let out a long breath, rubbing her temples. "Maybe I'm too focused on this job. That's why I can't finish my bachelor's. I need a distraction—something to pull me completely out of this world."
Right on cue, her phone buzzed with a social media notification. Natalia frowned, tapping the screen.
What the heck? she thought. "I always turn notifications off. When did this turn on? Did I toggle it by mistake in my pocket?" She groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. "I need a better phone case. What a pain."
She opened the app to disable the alert, but a pop-up ad blocked her path. It was an advertisement for a strategy war game: Throne War. The graphic showed a heavily armored knight charging on a horse, twin blades drawn as a massive dragon swept overhead, scorching an enemy army.
"Maybe a bit of gaming will help me zone out," Natalia muttered, tapping the ad.
The application prompted her to name her kingdom before selecting an avatar.
"I won't use my real name, but 'kingdom' sounds too grand," she mumbled, typing The Garden of Eden.
The system flashed red: Name already taken.
Natalia groaned and tried Great Eden. It went through. She selected an avatar clad in steel armor, dual swords resting in scabbards at her sides. A prompt appeared: Travel to your city. She pressed the glowing button.
Traveling to your kingdom now, the screen read.
Slowly, digital clouds bloomed across her display. Natalia smiled faintly. "Cool. Let me see what this is about."
Thick, unnatural smoke began to pour out of the phone's speakers and charging port. Natalia dropped the device onto the bed, kicking it away in a panic. "Oh snap, it's shorting out! Must be a virus."
She sprinted to her bathroom closet, grabbing the small fire extinguisher she kept under the sink, and rushed back. But her bedroom was already choked in a dense, fog-like haze. Before she could pull the safety pin, a weightless sensation hit her chest. Her feet lifted off the floor. There was no ground beneath her—only an abyss of white smoke.
Panic seized her heart. "Think, Natalia," she scolded herself, clutching the useless extinguisher. "If I pass out from smoke inhalation, this is a pathetic way to go. But how is a phone generating this much smoke?"
Seconds later, gravity slammed back into her. Her boots hit solid earth, sending her tumbling onto her backside.
Blinking against the brightness, Natalia looked up at a piercingly blue sky and a warm sun. She was sitting in a vast, rolling meadow. In the distance, snow-capped peaks pierced the horizon, dotted with sparse timberland.
She pushed herself up, feeling an unfamiliar weight. Looking down, she wasn't in her loungewear anymore; she was encased in sleek, flexible silver armor that conformed perfectly to her frame. Her footwear was heavy leather boots with a functional two-inch heel.
To her right, a low whicker drew her attention. A magnificent black horse trotted over, nudging her shoulder as if urging her forward. It wore a sturdy leather saddle and a steel headpiece, its coat marked by a stark, diamond-shaped white patch on its forehead.
Natalia brushed dirt off her palms, taking a steadying breath. "Okay. I have a horse that apparently knows me, I'm wearing combat armor, and—let's check—yep, still brown. No mirror, but I suppose I'll manage."
"You may select the race of your guide," a crisp, robotic voice echoed from thin air.
Natalia spun around, finding no one. "Oh, Lord... did I finally snap?"
"Your guide is responsible for answering questions regarding game rules and operational functions," the voice continued as a translucent menu materialized before her eyes, listing races: Fairies, Demons, Elves, Giants...