Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
“We just… hope it sticks?”
“Hope is not a strategy,” Selene said.
“No,” I agreed. “Writing is.”
I lifted the pen again.
The game surged in protest.
Script lashed out—thin tendrils of code snapping toward my arm like vines. Corvin stepped in, sword a blur, chopping through them. Each severed strand evaporated in a puff of static, but more reached.
“Do it,” he said, every line of him braced between me and the Admin. “We’ll hold.”