I didn’t target her. I targeted the logic holding the level together. A tendon in reality snapped. Granny Rags didn’t die—she un-existed , her scream cut off mid-wave as the world shuddered.
I typed faster:
I surfaced behind her, silent as a shadow. She spun. “You don’t know the dangerous ones, boy!”
“Welcome to the console,” she whispered, appearing beside me though she hadn’t moved. A glowing text field floated before my eyes.
“Lucky,” she spat.
“Cheater,” he said, with something like admiration.
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