"Holy crap! This is nuts!" Yin screamed.
As a streamer who'd played every genre under the sun, Yin thought he'd seen it all. But when he grabbed the time-travel gauntlet from Major Anderson's half-stuck body and flicked it on, he lost it.
Zoom! The fire-choked corridor cleared, the building gleaming like new, floors polished to a shine. Yin swaggered through a lab, hitting a door laced with red laser grids—death traps in the past timeline.
Zoom! He squeezed the gauntlet. Time flipped. The lasers vanished, the door a mangled wreck. He stepped through, only to hit a jammed electric gate.
Zoom! Back to the past. The gate hummed, pristine. Yin hit the switch, and it slid open smooth.
"Oh, damn!" he yelled.
Chat went wild:
"This is insane!"
"Time-travel gauntlet?!"
"Gus Harper's a madman!"
The "Cause and Effect" level was a beast. Two timelines—past and present—each with barriers no Pilot could crack alone. The gauntlet let Yin bounce between them, solving puzzles and dodging traps. A shooter with time-travel decryption? Revolutionary.
Hiss. Yin hit a hall, IMC grunts charging. He raised his gun. "Gotcha, boys!"
Rat-tat-tat! Headshots dropped them. Alarms screamed:
"Enemy Pilot! Evacuate researchers! Set checkpoints!"
Zoom! Yin flipped to the present. Dead silence, just crackling flames.
"What the hell?" he gasped. "This level's unreal!"
He was a time assassin, ghosting between timelines to outsmart obstacles. If "Into the Void" was WindyPeak's level-design flex, "Cause and Effect" fused gameplay and puzzles into a masterpiece.
Yin slid into a vent. Ruins blocking the way? Zoom. Past timeline—clear pipes. Spinning fan blades ahead? Zoom. Present timeline—rusted, gone. A scarred hall opened up.
He danced through time, flipping between bustling past and desolate present. Noise to silence, order to chaos. In the elevator lobby, he toyed with IMC goons.
Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! Yin popped in and out, taunting:
"Over here, losers!"
"Yo, I'm gone!"
"Back again—try me!"
Bang! He misjudged a jump, landing in front of an IMC grunt's barrel. A shot rang out. Yin went down.
Chat erupted:
"Whoops!"
"Deserved that one!"
"Anderson 2.0—stuck in a wall next?"
"IMC's like, 'Stay still, idiot!'"
Yin laughed. "Alright, I had that coming."
The level's design had every streamer hooked. As Yin pushed deeper, the IMC's plot unraveled. The Holy Ark—a glowing blue core pulsing with energy—could fold time and space. Weaponized, it'd wipe out planets. This facility was the IMC's old research hub. The Ark was gone, but BT could scan its past timeline to track it.
IMC forces split—one group hunted Yin, the other prepped the Ark's transport. Bullets flew. "Target spotted! Fire!""He's in the factory!"
Zoom! Yin hit a factory. Present timeline: flames, explosions, desolation. Past timeline: icy air, gunfire, chaos.
Zoom! He dodged through present's inferno. Zoom! He weaved past bullets in the past's frost. Red flames clashed with blue chill, Yin ghosting between them like a specter.
He slid across steaming steel in the present, then leaped onto icy walls in the past. In the tight space of dual timelines, he danced on time's edge, a dazzling blur of motion.
Finally, explosions roared behind him. BT's arms opened, cockpit hissing. "Switch to Pilot Mode!"
Yin glimpsed the Holy Ark in the past timeline—a water-blue sun in a double-ring device, radiating power. He was a Militia rifleman, acting Pilot for BT-7274, carrying Lastimosa's legacy and Anderson's mission (sorry, the ceiling joke still kills).
"BT, we gotta reach it!" Yin shouted.
IMC forces swarmed—Lancers, Reaper Mechs, Titans. "Scan the Ark!"
"We need the drawbridge down," BT said. "Control room's marked, Pilot."
A marker pinged—a red-and-white room by the rings. "Cover me!" Yin called, leaping off BT.
Zoom! He bypassed a sealed door, hitting the control room. He yanked out his data knife, prying the panel. "Decoding… 10%… 30%… 50%…"
Enemy fire intensified. BT unleashed missiles, shields flaring. The ground shook, the room quaking.
"100%!" The knife clicked. Yin sheathed it, ready to bolt.
Whistle! A missile screamed from an enemy Titan. BT's shield was on cooldown.
"Oh, crap!" Yin braced.
Boom! BT knelt, blocking the control room with its bulk. Flames roared, but BT stood firm, cockpit snapping open.
"Trust me," BT said.
Yin's eyes widened. Lastimosa called BT "he" for a reason. "You're a beast, bro!" he yelled, diving in.
Switching to Ronin mode, Yin charged. The looted alloy sword—Viper's old blade—gleamed. "Sword Core—activate!"
Clang! The sword swung, cleaving a Titan's hull. A second slash cut it in half. BT stepped up, thrusting the blade down. Screech! Metal tore.
"Enemy Titan down!"
No time to flex. The Ark trembled, IMC comms panicking:
"Ark's unstable!"
"Evacuate! Don't approach!"
"Overload—retreat!"
Zooooom! White light blinded Yin. Sound vanished, save his own breathing.
"Huh—huh—huh—"
The light faded. A suspension bridge stretched to the Ark, frozen in time. Exploding flames hung still. Shattered rings hovered. A warhead floated by Yin's ear, energy beams locked in red streaks.
He turned. BT stood, charging, scars glowing in frozen flames.
Click. Yin stepped forward, footsteps echoing in stasis. IMC soldiers were stuck mid-dodge, mid-shot, mid-shout. Shockwaves rippled, visible in the air.
This was art. The game's peak.
Yin leaped onto frozen debris, reaching the Ark. Behind him, a sci-fi masterpiece unfolded—past and present woven into one still moment.
Every streamer went quiet. Chat hushed.
Miles apart, Lucas Sterling and Ethan "Zane" Holt stood, eyes wide with shock. Confusion, awe, disbelief.
Playability, design, artistry—three rivers merging into one.
Crunch. The ceiling of game design shattered.
Lucas shook his head, lips trembling. "This is…"
"The greatest level ever," Zane whispered.
Time restarted. A shockwave flung Yin back, rippling from cabins to streams, igniting the gaming world.
Boom!