[CURRENT ZONE: STONEHENGE HEATSINK TERMINAL] [API REFRESH IN: 04:09:12]
Kai slammed his hands onto the keyboard.
It wasn't a sleek, modern interface. The keys were carved directly into the ancient Sarsen stone, mechanical and heavy, requiring actual physical force to press. Dust puffed up from the cracks as he rapidly typed.
Above the terminal, the faceless holographic Druid spun its grey loading wheel. "It looks like you are trying to halt a Defragmentation Protocol! Would you like me to open a support ticket? Current wait time is: 4200 Years."
"Disable Assistant," Kai grunted, hitting the heavy stone [ENTER] key.
"I cannot do that, User_Admin. You lack the necessary bandwidth. Please provide your Two-Factor Authentication…."
"I don't have my phone!" Kai yelled, his fingers flying across the stone keys to open a raw command prompt.
Since his Sudo-tag was completely greyed out, Kai couldn't use magic. He was an IT guy though and had to do it the old-fashioned way. He typed a rapid sequence to flood the localized feedback loop: ping -t localhost, then immediately punched in: tracert Master_Core.exe.
Green holographic text cascaded down the damp morning air as the terminal desperately routed Kai's request.
[TRACING ROUTE TO MASTER_CORE...] [HOP 1: LEY_LINE_NODE_UK (STONEHENGE) - 1ms] [HOP 2: LEY_LINE_NODE_FRANCE (EIFFEL_ANTENNA) - 14ms] [HOP 3: LEY_LINE_NODE_ITALY (COLOSSEUM_ARENA) - 32ms] [HOP 4: DESTINATION REACHED: CERN_HADRON_VAULT (SWITZERLAND) - 45ms]
A massive, glowing 3D map of Europe erupted from the altar stone. Three massive pillars of golden light shot up from the map: one in Paris, one in Rome, and all converging deep in the Swiss Alps.
"Switzerland," Walter breathed, adjusting his glasses. "The Master Core isn't just software. It's housed inside the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva. They're using the particle accelerator to power the server partition!"
"Trace complete," the Druid droned, its audio clipping violently. "Warning. The Master Core is currently experiencing a fatal exception due to cross-dimensional code leakage. To preserve shareholder value, a Mandatory Factory Reset has been scheduled."
A blinding, server-wide alert flashed across the sky, completely drowning out the grey clouds. All awakened people, received the notification at the exact same time.
[GLOBAL EVENT TRIGGERED: THE FACTORY RESET] [MAIN SCENARIO QUEST: THE 8-DAY PING] [TIME UNTIL TOTAL SERVER WIPE: 192 HOURS (8 DAYS)] [OBJECTIVE: REACH CERN TO CLAIM ROOT ACCESS, OR PREPARE FOR DELETION.]
Many in the world stopped.
On the adjacent A303 highway, a commuter slammed on his brakes, tires screeching against the wet asphalt. By the Visitor Centre, a tourist in a plastic poncho dropped his coffee, the paper cup bursting over the ancient grass. A massive flock of crows scattered violently from the top of the Sarsen stones, their frantic caws drowned out by a low, planetary hum of sheer terror.
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"Eight days?"
Kai looked back. Terry had leaned entirely out of the driver's side window of the Black Cab. The cabbie was staring at the apocalyptic countdown timer in the sky with absolute disgust.
"Eight days?!" Terry bellowed across the grass. "Phileas Fogg went around the entire bloody world in eighty days in a hot air balloon! It's just three cities! Switzerland is a 14 hour drive down the toll roads! Why on earth do we need eight days?"
"Terry, we aren't just driving," Walter yelled back. "We have to breach two heavily fortified Server Nodes in Paris and Rome before we can even unlock the vault in Geneva. Factoring in dungeon crawls, boss fights, mandatory sleep cycles, and the Purist army hunting us... eight days isn't generous. It's a death march."
Terry’s face turned bright red. "And the French border control is always on strike! Brilliant!"
"Kai, the blocks!" Maya screamed.
The massive grey Tetris wall was glowing blindingly white. It was about to explode, wiping the entire county into raw, unformatted data.
"Unlocking the node!" Kai yelled. He typed the final command: [Execute: Restore_Previous_Version] and slammed the stone [ENTER] key.
[LEY LINE NODE 1: UNLOCKED] [RESTORING LOCAL GEOMETRY...]
A concussive ring of pure blue energy blasted outward from the center of Stonehenge. The moment the light touched the towering Purist Tetris blocks, they instantly dissolved into harmless, glittering pixels. The defragmentation warning vanished.
The blast wave continued outward, vaporizing the Monetizers' golden velvet ropes and shattering the Free-to-Play viewing barrier.
The two hundred tourists in plastic ponchos stood in stunned silence for exactly three seconds. Then, assuming the massive explosion of light and the disappearing blocks were the finale of the AR art exhibit, they erupted into polite, enthusiastic applause.
Kai slumped against the altar stone, gasping for breath. He looked down at his wrist.
[API REFRESH IN: 04:02:11]
He was still powerless, but they had the map. They had the destination.
"Kai," Grom grunted.
Kai looked up. The Orc Warlord was leaning heavily against a Sarsen stone. Grom reached down to retrieve his fallen minigun, but as his left hand closed around the heavy metal grip, his green fingers simply phased through the weapon in a shower of red sparks.
Grom's pristine [LEVEL 45] nameplate violently flickered, corrupting into a string of jagged error text.
"My grip," Grom murmured quietly, staring at his glitching hand. "The mesh is torn."
"We need a healer," Maya said, rushing to Grom's side. "M&Ms aren't going to fix a torn digital mesh."
"There are no healers on the Earth Server," Walter said, looking at the glowing map of Europe. "But if we follow the Ley Line to the next node in Paris, we might find a patch terminal to repair his code."
Kai pushed himself off the altar. The countdown timer pulsed menacingly in the top right corner of his vision.
[7 DAYS, 23 HOURS, 58 MINUTES REMAINING]
"Terry," Kai said as he jogged toward the cab, helping Maya support Grom's good arm. "How exactly are we getting a taxi across the English Channel?"
"We're taking the Eurotunnel, mate," Terry grunted, slamming the car into gear. "Hour and a half drive, pop the cab on the train, out in France by lunchtime."
Maya froze. "Wait. Terry. Does the Eurotunnel have border control?"
Terry looked at her like she was an idiot. " Course it does luv. French customs. And ever since Brexit, they've been absolute jobsworths about it. They stamp everything."
Maya looked down at her damp sweatpants. "Terry... I was sucked into this server ahem this country from my living room in Montreal. I don't have my Canadian passport."
Walter pushed his glasses up his nose from the back seat. "And, purely from a logistical standpoint, Grom, Sir Gideon, and the Viscount are undocumented fantasy entities. If we pull up to the French border with an 8 foot Orc without a Schengen Visa, they will impound the cab."
Terry stared blankly at the windshield. The engine idled.
"I don't believe this," Terry whispered, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. "The world is ending, and we're being stopped by Brexit."
"Drive, Charioteer," Grom grunted, climbing painfully into the back. "Where do we acquire these Documents of Passage?"
"Fleet Motorway Services," Terry sighed, pulling the cab out of the Stonehenge parking lot. "It's a neutral zone. There's bound to be a black-market vendor who can forge a passport."
