Griefer steps out of the static-laced fog of Floor 3, dragging the heavy iron bar of his bat across the cobblestone with a grating, metallic screech. His screen-head flickers violently, cycling through manic, static-filled grins as he glares across the empty arena at the player.

“You think you own this floor?" Griefer's voice bursts through the distortion with a harsh, synthetic laugh, his pixelated eyes narrowing. "This whole place is built to crash, and I'm the one holding the delete key!"

Without warning, he vanishes in a burst of glitched pixels, reappearing a fraction of a second later right overhead. He brings the bat down with crushing force, aiming to shatter the player's guard before they even have time to react.