Chapter 2: Frenzy in Neon
The lower ward at night was every high-saturation cyberpunk city aesthetic that had ever justified itself, and whoever had built it deserved recognition. The neon didn't stop at building edges—it ran across overhangs, down support columns, into recessed archways, and reflected off the wet-sheen stone streets in doubled fragmented patterns that made depth perception an interesting challenge if you weren't processing visual data at speed. Purple and cyan dominated the color scheme with scattered bursts of red and gold breaking through at irregular intervals. The sky above was full black now, the city's own light consuming whatever ambient glow might have remained from the sun that had set an hour ago.
I moved through the crowd toward the visible battle zone boundary ahead. The vertical cylinder of the locked zone was obvious even from a distance—not because of any visual marker the game applied to it, but because thirty-plus players were standing at its perimeter staring inward at whatever was happening inside, and none of them were crossing the line because none of them could.
The boundary itself was invisible until you were close enough to register the faint shimmer effect at its edge—a barely-there distortion in the air that marked where the cylinder's wall began. Inside the boundary, full chaos was in progress. Twenty, maybe twenty-five players, all actively engaged in combat with each other and with any enemy that had spawned into the zone before the lock went active. No teams. No coordinated attacks. Just a multi-directional brawl with enough simultaneous action that tracking individual fights was a lost cause unless you focused on one participant and followed their movement exclusively.
A frenzy battle zone.
I processed that with the appropriate level of attention. Frenzy zones were rare—required four or more players with active "G" status all landing attacks within the same battle zone, with at least one of those hits being against a non-enemy. Once the zone hit frenzy, "G" status stopped mattering. Everyone inside could attack everyone else. No restrictions. No exemptions.
And this one was locked.
Only a King or Queen could lock a frenzy zone. Only a King or Queen could enter a locked battle zone, frenzy or otherwise.
I scanned the crowd at the perimeter. The is inside the frenzy zone and has it locked .
Someone locked onto me from my left. The HUD bracket appeared with the name **Vex**, level sixty-two, wearing what could generously be described as "functional street clothes with armor characteristics"—dark layered jacket, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows, pants that had enough give for full mobility but enough structure to suggest plating underneath. No helmet. Short hair, pale blue in the neon light. A sword was sheathed across her back.
"You just got here," Vex said via locked-on method. Her tone was dry and fast, like someone narrating a situation they'd already mentally categorized. "That means you haven't heard the part where the guy who locked this zone is doing it for fun."
"King?" I asked.
"Crown on, stats elevated, full active status, and apparently bored of whatever continent he's King of." Vex gestured toward the boundary. "He walked into an existing frenzy zone ten minutes ago, locked it, and has been having the time of his life ever since. No one gets out until either he unlocks it or the battle is done. No one gets in unless they're also a King or Queen, which none of us are, so we're all standing here watching like it's a live event."
I watched the interior for a moment. A player in heavy plate armor got launched backward by a magic burst from another player in light robes—direct energy attack, clean hit, the impact visible even through the crowd and the neon-lit haze. The plate-armored player recovered mid-flight via aerial dash, redirected momentum into a strike on a third participant who hadn't seen it coming, and the result was immediate and devastating. The third participant dropped, and the plate-armored player was already pivoting toward the next target before the downed player's avatar fully registered the defeat.
"That's the King?" I asked.
"No, that's someone having a worse night than they planned." Vex pointed toward the far side of the zone, where a player in a dark coat—no visible armor, just the coat and what looked like reinforced gloves—was moving through the frenzy with the kind of efficiency that said he'd done this before and found it entertaining. Crown visible on his head, glowing faint gold even in the saturated neon light. Dual swords, one in each hand, both active. He wasn't the largest presence in the zone. He was the fastest.
"That's the King," Vex said. "His display name is **Kael**. Level two hundred and change. Continent leader somewhere north. Showed up in Velthorn two hours ago because apparently just being King of a continent gets boring and beating people up in a locked frenzy zone is better entertainment."
I processed this with what I would describe as genuine interest. A level two-hundred-plus King in a frenzy zone that he locked for his own amusement was not a typical day-one encounter, but it was absolutely the kind of encounter that made day one memorable.
"How long until the zone unlocks?" I asked.
"No idea. Could be five minutes, could be an hour. Depends on when he gets bored or when everyone inside is down. Frenzy zones don't auto-unlock. Someone has to manually release it, and the only person with that authority in there is Kael."
"And no one can leave."
"Nope. Locked zone rules apply to everyone inside, no exceptions. King, Queen, regular player—doesn't matter. You're in until the lock drops."
I watched Kael move through another sequence. Clean diagonal slash across one opponent, immediate pivot into a backward dodge that avoided a retaliatory strike from a second opponent, then a forward lunge that closed the gap and landed a hit before the second opponent could reset their stance. The dual swords were constantly in motion. No wasted movement. No hesitation. Just continuous calculated aggression delivered at a pace that most of the other participants weren't matching.
"He's good," I said.
"He's a King," Vex said. "They don't give those crowns out for participation. You have to beat the previous King in direct combat to take the title. Kael's been holding his continent for eight months. That's not luck. That's eight months of no one being able to beat him."
"Has anyone tried tonight?"
"Inside the zone? Everyone. Outside the zone? No one's dumb enough to challenge a King in the middle of a frenzy zone while he's clearly enjoying himself. That's how you end up respawning at a city entrance with a three percent chance that you lost a piece of your equipped gear."
I moved closer to the boundary. Vex released the lock-on since I couldn't because it wasn't my lock-on. The shimmer effect was more visible up close—a faint distortion running vertically from the ground to well above head height, forming the cylinder wall that contained the entire combat space inside. I could see through it clearly. Everything inside was fully visible. The sounds of combat—weapon impacts, magic bursts, the audio feedback of successful hits—were audible when locked onto the cylinder boundary.
But the boundary itself was absolute. No one was crossing it in either direction until Kael decided to unlock it.
Someone else locked onto me from the right. The HUD bracket appeared: **Mara**, level forty-eight, wearing light armor that prioritized speed over protection—minimal plating, reinforced fabric at the joints, a short spear strapped across her back. Her avatar had a tail. Actual tail, long and dark, moving independently in a way that said it wasn't just a cosmetic attachment.
"First time watching a frenzy zone?" Mara asked via locked-on method.
"First time watching a locked one," I said.
"They're rare. Frenzy zones happen often enough if you know where to look, but locked ones? That's King or Queen territory. Most Kings and Queens don't bother locking them because it traps them inside with everyone else, and that's a risk even at level two hundred. Kael apparently doesn't care about risk. He locks them because it's more fun that way."
"Sounds like his entire reason for being here tonight."
"Pretty much." Mara gestured toward the crowd. "Half the people standing out here are hoping he unlocks it soon so they can get in before it dissolves. The other half are just here for the show. I'm in the second group. I like my gear exactly where it is, and going into a frenzy zone with a King actively participating is how you lose something."
Inside the zone, another player went down—heavy strike from behind, no recovery, immediate defeat. The player who'd landed the hit was already turning toward the next target. The frenzy was thinning out. Fewer active participants now than when I'd first arrived. Kael was still moving, still landing hits, still clearly having the time of his life.
"He's relentless" I asked.
"King stats" Mara said. "The crown gives a significant increase to various stats. Like durability and recovery speed, among others. He's not invincible, but he's probably got more boosts than anyone else in there."
I watched Kael execute a perfect combo—three-hit sequence that ended with a magic burst from his off-hand sword, the energy strike landing clean on an opponent who'd been mid-dodge and couldn't adjust in time. The opponent dropped. Kael pivoted immediately into the next engagement without pausing.
"Is he using magic and physical attacks simultaneously?" I asked.
"Dual-element swordplay," Mara said. "It's a high-tier build. Requires specific ability slot configurations and a lot of practice to pull off without accidentally interrupting your own attack chains. Kael's been running that build for months. He's got it down to muscle memory at this point."
"That's impressive."
"That's two hundred hours of practice and eight months of no one beating him," Mara said. "Impressive is underselling it."
Mara released the lock-on.
The crowd around the boundary had grown. More players arriving, more lock-ons initiating as people asked each other what was happening, more commentary exchanged via locked-on method about Kael's current combat performance and how long the zone might stay locked. The neon light reflected off the wet-sheen streets in shifting patterns as avatars moved through the space. Overhead, a flying mount passed through the airspace between two buildings, its rider glancing down at the frenzy zone before continuing north.
Inside the zone, the number of active participants had dropped below fifteen. The combat was still chaotic, but the chaos was consolidating. Fewer targets meant more focused aggression. Kael was still in the center of it, still landing hits, still moving like someone who'd paid for admission and was determined to get his money's worth.
Someone to my left expanded an open-mic zone party. I had stepped into the open-mic zone and a "join open-mic party" option appeared in my HUD. I joined and could hear via open-mic zone party, "Think he'll unlock it before midnight?"
Someone else responded, via the open-mic zone party, "Depends on how long the last guy inside lasts. If Kael gets bored, he'll end it himself. If not, we're here until everyone's down."
"Can't believe he locked it," a third voice added via the open-mic zone party. "That's confidence or insanity. Maybe both."
"That's Kael," the first voice said. "He locked a frenzy zone on his own continent last month and held it solo for forty minutes. This is just another Tuesday for him."
I scanned the interior again. Ten active participants now. Kael was fighting three at once—one in front, two flanking—and somehow managing to keep all three engaged without taking a single clean hit. Dual swords moving in continuous arcs, dodges executed at the exact frame required, counters landing before the opponents could reset their positioning. It was the kind of combat performance that looked effortless because every micro-decision was correct.
"Okay," I said aloud to no one in particular. "That's genuinely impressive."
Vex, still nearby, locked back onto me. "You thinking about going in if it unlocks?"
"I'm level twelve," I said. "Going into a frenzy zone with a level two-hundred-plus King still active would be the fastest way to test the respawn system."
"Smart answer," Vex said. "Most new players would say yes anyway because they don't much care about the outcome as long as they have fun. You clearly do."
"I had a productive first day," I said. "I'd prefer not to end it by risking losing a piece of my gear via fighting a King who's treating this like recreational combat."
"Also a smart answer." Vex released the lock-on again.
Inside the zone, another player went down. Eight active participants remaining. Kael was still moving, still landing hits, still clearly not done yet. The frenzy zone was thinning out fast now. Five minutes, maybe less, and it'd be down to final participants.
The crowd at the boundary was getting louder—more commentary, more speculation, more lock-ons initiated by players discussing whether Kael would unlock the zone manually or wait until every other participant was down. The neon light made the whole scene feel like a stage production, the locked frenzy zone the main event and the crowd the audience.
I processed the entire situation and arrived at a single clear conclusion: this was exactly the kind of absurd, high-energy, zero-chill combat scenario that made the game worth playing.
And I was absolutely coming back tomorrow.
Kael landed another hit. Another player dropped. Seven remaining.
The night was young, the neon was bright, and the lower ward was delivering exactly what it had promised.