"What do you mean by saying that?" Reever asked, keeping his tone steady as if he truly did not understand her implication. Inside, however, his thoughts were moving quickly, measuring every word the queen had chosen, every pause between them.
"No need for me to explain as I do not have much time," the queen's voice echoed directly in his mind, smooth and controlled despite the battle raging not far from them. "But I am willing to put away my grievances and team up with you to beat this foe."
Reever let the words sit for a moment. Team up. The same creature that had tried to kill him not long ago was now offering an alliance. He almost laughed out loud but kept it to himself, allowing only a quiet inward chuckle.
"And why should I team up with you and betray my teammate?" he replied mentally, careful to sound skeptical rather than tempted. "Do you think you have a better deal or something that can make me change sides? After all, he came to save me, and he has been nothing but help to me."
He emphasized that last part on purpose. If she wanted him, she would have to work for it.
"Naive," the queen responded immediately, her tone sharpening. "You are nothing but a naive being. Why do you think he has done all of this? You think it is for loyalty? For friendship? You are naive."
The word lingered like an insult pressed against his pride. Reever did not react outwardly, but he registered it. She was trying to destabilize him, to shake his trust in Conner. That alone told him something: she believed doubt was already there.
"It is true I might be naive," he answered calmly, as though admitting a flaw cost him nothing. "But why should I still join you? I can wait for both of you to tire up after fighting each other and then take the last win. Easy."
He knew that scenario was unrealistic. Conner was far stronger than him, and the queen was no less dangerous. But he needed her to talk. The more she revealed, the more leverage he would have. Surviving this match mattered more than pride or loyalty.
"You know nothing about these games," the queen said, and this time her voice carried something heavier than mockery. "You think that it is a matter of just winning. No. It is much more. Right now, things may look simple. Players spawning after death. Death becoming useless. People getting power with no price. Do you truly think all is given for free?"
Reever's eyes narrowed slightly. That part had bothered him too.
"What this world wants is chaos and disorder," she continued. "Players betraying each other for power. Alliances breaking at the right moment. I have long held a theory that someone out there is watching our pitiful lives and mocking us for our stupidity."
Her words were no longer taunts. They were observations.
"Do you plan on staying like that?" she pressed. "Trapped in things you cannot control? Doing their bidding? You have to play by your own rules. Forge your path if you want to survive this chaotic world."
Reever remained silent.
He could not deny that she had touched on something real. The system was too generous. Power came quickly. Death had lost its sting. Even paradise would not function this smoothly without hidden costs. There was always a balance somewhere. A catch. He had sensed it from the beginning but had pushed the thought aside. He was weak. Weak people did not get to question the architecture of the cage; they focused on surviving inside it.
For now, survival was enough. He was not free until he left this game. Rank up first. Ask questions later.
"Let me tell you a little secret about this game," the queen said, and her voice lost all trace of mockery. It became precise. Focused. "And all the future games you will play."
Reever sharpened his attention.
"There will only be one survivor in each rank up game. Even if a million players enter the same match, only one will survive to see the next rank. The rest of you will have to replay another match once more."
The statement settled over him heavily, though he did not show it.
"You thought that this so-called friend wanted to team up with you," she continued. "No. He was using you to alleviate the pressure for the final battle. But once he sees that you are too weak before me, trust me, he will end you before killing me. For that, I stake my life on it."
Reever did not look shocked. In truth, he wasn't. The system had always felt dirty beneath its polished surface. If only one advanced, then alliances were temporary by design. Trust was tactical. Friendship was situational.
Still, hearing it confirmed tightened something in his chest.
He knew Conner was strong. He also knew strength and ambition rarely coexisted peacefully when only one could win.
"So you want to team up with me to defeat him," Reever said carefully. "How could I be sure that you are sincere in your actions and do not want me to be cannon fodder for you?"
That was the real question. Betrayal was expected. Predictable. Sincerity was rare.
"True," the queen admitted after a brief pause. "I had thought about that earlier. But I changed my views after speaking with you. I am willing to show my sincerity by giving you something of mine. An infinite supply of web bullets to defeat him. And my webs will not work on you."
Reever considered that.
Immunity alone was valuable. Infinite ammunition was even more tempting. But deals in this world were rarely complete without hidden angles. If she was offering this much, she needed him more than she let on.
The offer was good. Not perfect.
"Conner is strong," Reever said, keeping his voice even. "I cannot beat him one on one."
That was not fear speaking. It was calculation. He knew his limits. Charging blindly would be suicide.
"I have a way to break him," the queen replied without hesitation. "I will unleash my strongest attack on his illusion device. It is at his waist, worn like a belt. I will destroy it and use it to our advantage. Right now, he is mentally unstable. An illusion will trigger him."
That detail was important. She had been observing Conner closely.
If the device broke, his perception could fracture. A mentally unstable opponent relying on illusions was a liability waiting to be exploited.
The battlefield noise continued in the distance, but between them, everything felt narrowed to this exchange. A temporary alliance formed not from trust, but from shared necessity.
"You can trust me, human."