Chapter Sixty-Two: Reinforcements Descend from the Heavens

A male and a female elf stood atop the crumbling wall. The elven maiden’s hair flowed like water over her shoulders, and the golden rays of dusk seemed unable to rest upon her silken tresses, instead gliding ceaselessly between the strands, as if a sparkling emerald stream cascaded from her brow. Though her figure was slender, the weapon she carried was astoundingly large—a massive firearm, its barrel thicker than her arm, nearly as tall as her nose when set on the ground, resembling nothing less than a compact, refined goblin grenade launcher. Every component of this great weapon exuded a wild and violent aura, utterly subverting the gentle, serene impression she otherwise gave.

Beside her crouched a tall, languid elven man, arms crossed as he hugged his longbow to his chest, grinning mischievously at us. It was clear that the arrow that had struck the demon berserker earlier had come from his hand. His face was half hidden by a peculiar mask—a pair of thick, clear, round glass lenses covered his eyes, obscuring much of his cheeks; together with his green, close-fitting attire, he looked rather like an oversized toad.

A pristine white little rabbit lay curled lazily atop this elven archer’s head, apparently dozing. This plump, round little creature seemed to possess an innate charm irresistible to all female beings of wisdom; the vampire sword dancer, “Stutter-and-Forget-the-Words,” instantly lit up at the sight, tugged excitedly at the troll assassin “Who-Dares-Be-Uglier-Than-Me,” and squealed, “Husband, look! A bunny, a bunny! What an adorable bunny...”

Legends say that the toad and the rabbit are the two pets most beloved by the Moonlight Goddess, and whenever that beautiful goddess travels, she brings them along. The scene before us now was just like an illustration from a “Procession of the Moonlight Goddess” come to life.

Of course, I didn’t mistake the long-haired elven maiden for the nocturnal goddess who governs the moon and stars. She was simply an ordinary elven beast tamer named Wild Goose Array. And as for the “toad” crouched beside her—no, I mean the elf—wasn’t that our old acquaintance, the nearsighted elven sharpshooter, Melodic Intent? As for the rabbit perched atop Melodic Intent’s head, it was, of course, Wild Goose Array’s first tamed “battle pet”—the white rabbit “Rabbit Wipe.”

Seeing them appear so suddenly, I felt greatly relieved: with their help, the fight was now four against four. Other than one high-level assassin among the enemy, whose rank was a bit above ours, the rest were generally of lower levels, giving us, if anything, the greater chance of victory.

Taking advantage of the enemy’s distraction, I grabbed Sunshot Longbow and dashed toward the base of the broken wall where Melodic Intent and the others stood. The four opponents suddenly realized what was happening, shouting angrily as they brandished their weapons and gave chase. The undead mage was quickest, firing an ice spear that struck me squarely in the rear. Pain shot through my backside, followed by a cold, tingling sensation that seeped upward from the base of my tail, leaving half my body numb and aching. Limping and cursing the treacherous mage with every step, I wished nothing but the worst for him.

However, I quickly realized a technical problem with my curse: the undead mage was plainly nothing but a clean set of bones, without intestines or a stomach—the sort of thing that might have been gnawed away by a stray dog long ago. Besides, he was undead, already dead once before. Wishing for his intestines to rot and his death to be miserable a second time seemed... exceedingly difficult to achieve.

Luckily, we ran swiftly and soon entered the two elves’ range. With a thunderous “boom,” Wild Goose Array’s firearm exploded with a sound like rolling thunder, blasting the mage into a vision of spring. Standing atop the wall, she effortlessly leveled the massive iron gun with one hand, eyes arrogant, hair billowing wildly, the muzzle spouting plumes of ominous black smoke, and her whole being radiated such murderous intent that it sent a chill down one’s spine.

At almost the same moment, Melodic Intent drew and released his bow, firing over twenty arrows in rapid succession, covering the road behind us at a speed almost impossible to believe. The enemies in pursuit were caught off guard and each took multiple arrows. Fortunately, his “Rapid Shot” skill, while fast, was not especially lethal; the three remaining pursuers were only lightly wounded.

Seeing the situation, the troll assassin threw his cloak over himself and vanished into a shadow, disappearing before our eyes. The demon berserker, relying on his formidable vitality, shielded the vampire sword dancer and forced his way through the hail of arrows.

Sensing an opportunity, I turned to meet the demon berserker head-on. His long-handled blade had the advantage of reach, and before I could close in, he swept it toward me. I was ready, raising my shield to block. The impact jarred my left arm, and I couldn’t fully deflect the blow; the broad blade raked my arm, costing me over a hundred health points.

Despite the wound, I pressed the attack, thrusting into his side, then slashing across his chest to draw a bloody line, before swinging my shield in a “Savage Impact,” battering his chest. Just as I prepared to strike again, the berserker threw back his head and roared, causing me to falter, my movements suddenly stilled.

I knew this was the effect of “Fear Roar.” As an offensive class, berserkers retained this intimidating battle shout. Fortunately, the “Heart of Valor” magic in my warrior badge dispelled fear and other negative states, and I immediately regained control of my body.

“Strength comes from courage!” I took a deep breath and silently repeated the creed of the battle warrior.

Unexpectedly, just as I was about to resume my assault, the lovesick berserker’s eyes glowed green, a ghostly light shooting into my own. My vision blurred; everything distorted, then dissolved into a color-streaked chaos, leaving me utterly blind.

I later learned this was a unique demonic racial skill called “Soul Disruption,” allowing them to invade an enemy’s mind with their magical eyes and induce confusion for a brief period.

Though the confusion lasted only five seconds, to my senseless mind it felt much longer. When I finally regained sight, the berserker’s great blade was already descending, slashing away over two hundred points of my health. Meanwhile, his own wounds had mostly healed.

Despite the rough start, I wasn’t worried. His blade was simply too slow; for every stroke he managed, I could thrust three times. Even if he entered a berserk state, my attack speed was still double his, and my defense far surpassed his. No matter how this fight went, I held the advantage.

While I clashed with the berserker, Sunshot Longbow was already battling the vampire sword dancer. The dwarven zealot grumbled endlessly to me, complaining, “Ah, Geoffrey, how could you leave her to me? That’s too much! Don’t you know her husband is right there? Who knows when I’ll get a knife to the neck! You’re pushing me to my doom, you despicable fellow. Hurry up and switch with me!”

When I fought the vampire swordswoman, Bull Million called me “shameless.” Now, as I avoided him, Sunshot Longbow, the dwarf, accused me of being “despicable.” How is anyone supposed to live like this? Is it truly so difficult to be a good person?

I shot Sunshot Longbow a sidelong glance, ignoring him. The memory of the troll assassin’s backstab still made my heart race. Let the favored of the Supreme God take this hit; isn’t it said, “To suffer for another is a test from the deity”? Longbow, your test is here; hold firm—no need to thank me for the opportunity.

Seeing my refusal to switch opponents, the dwarven zealot could only put on a long face and reluctantly face the vampire sword dancer. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel that beneath all his complaints, there was a trace of wicked excitement.

“Ma’am, please go easy on me; I’ve never dared fight a lady…” With a wave of his right hand, his bone nunchaku whistled down from above. “I’ve always respected and supported women’s independence, I’m a friend of women, my favorite show is ‘Half the Sky’ on Central TV, I never miss an episode...” Two more nunchaku strikes flew straight at her. “Sir, you see, I really don’t want to fight her—it’s all that despicable fellow’s fault, he forced me! This is all on him... Ah, attack… Use the nunchaku! Hmph, ha-ha!”

Faced with such a shameless opponent, even the vampire lady “Stutter-and-Forget-the-Words” was nearly beside herself with embarrassment, almost coughing up blood.

In truth, what worried me most was not the berserker before me, nor the sword dancer sparring with Sunshot Longbow, but the ever-hidden troll assassin “Who-Dares-Be-Uglier-Than-Me.” This high-level killer, elusive and deadly, could strike lethally at any moment if we lowered our guard. We knew he was lurking nearby, waiting for a chance to launch a deadly ambush—but we didn’t know where. Even though we held the upper hand in open combat, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were like fish on a chopping board, destined to receive a fatal blow.

I would have preferred him to reveal himself and join the berserker in a direct assault on me; at least then, if I died, I could die fighting. But to have my fate in the hands of an unseen enemy—now that was truly unsettling.

Now I understood why people say, “What you can’t see is the most terrifying.” The dread of hidden threats lurking in darkness can sometimes outweigh their actual destructive power.

What no one expected was that the elven sharpshooter Melodic Intent had already edged closer to the battle. He drew his bow, nocked an arrow but did not fire, while the demon berserker and vampire sword dancer fought us intensely. I was just wondering what he was up to when he did something that stunned me: he actually took off his thick, oversized glasses.

It had been a long time since I’d seen his fair and handsome face, and I wasn’t used to it. Without the glasses, his eyes were vague and dreamy; one might even call them “profound”—in fact, I think that’s what I used to say.

But Melodic Intent’s surprises did not end there. Not only did he remove the glasses he relied on to see, but he actually closed his eyes. Bowing his head, he turned sideways toward us, presenting his left ear. His ear was exceptionally agile, rotating constantly—it was almost comical to watch.

“Melodic Intent, what are you doing—” I had just begun to shout at this apparently self-sabotaging fool when, suddenly, he shifted slightly to the right, drew his bow with the barest, most efficient movement, and fired an arrow straight at a patch of empty ground. To everyone’s astonishment, the arrow had flown scarcely five steps before halting, the arrowhead raising a faint mist of blood.

At the point of impact, the troll assassin “Who-Dares-Be-Uglier-Than-Me” gradually came into view.

Sunshot Longbow gasped: the invisible assassin had been standing just three steps behind him.

Melodic Intent immediately put his glasses back on.

I wondered if I should get myself a pair of glasses—my eyes felt as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. Without something to hold them in, I’d be crawling around trying to pick up the shattered pieces.

“What… what just happened?” Sunshot Longbow hollered, both excited and baffled, shouting at Melodic Intent. “... You could see him?”

“Not exactly—I could hear him…” the elven sharpshooter shrugged nonchalantly, loosing another arrow that struck “Who-Dares-Be-Uglier-Than-Me” in the waist. “Yesterday, after I forgot to repair my gear while fighting monsters, my glasses broke and I got trapped in a cave by werewolves. I just blindly shot arrows with my eyes closed, got killed, and returned at the spawn point—only to find I’d learned a new move called ‘Wind Listening Arrow.’ Now I can hit enemies nearby just by sound. The only problem is, it’s weaker, costs a lot of energy, and the cooldown is too long…” This half-disabled, lucky elf even shook his head in mock complaint.

Within a certain period, an assassin has two chances to become invisible during battle. These two opportunities grant them absolute initiative, allowing them to launch a deadly ambush or escape unseen. For an assassin, their greatest weapon isn’t the blade, but this elusive, unpredictable fighting style. If caught off guard by a skilled assassin, you might be felled in an instant by their explosive attack power. And if they can’t kill you, they can simply vanish and wait for another chance.

Now, however, faced with Melodic Intent—the rare elf who could shoot by ear—“Who-Dares-Be-Uglier-Than-Me” had lost the initiative and was forced into a frontal fight, his least preferred style. His combat effectiveness plummeted.

Even so, the crafty elven sharpshooter gave him little chance for close combat. Melodic Intent fought as he retreated, always keeping his distance. He’d loose a few arrows, then turn and run. The troll assassin tried using “Sprint” to close in, managed to land a couple of good strikes, only to be tripped up by Melodic Intent’s “Hook Trip” and left limping, forced to watch helplessly as his foe retreated again and happily resumed target practice.

While we were each locked in heated battles with our opponents, the long-haired elven beast tamer, Wild Goose Array, was also engaged in combat with the undead mage “This Person Is Dead. Burn Paper If You Need Something”—in fact, these two ranged fighters had begun their duel even before the rest of us.

After being shot by Wild Goose Array, the undead mage retaliated with a sequence of ice shards following the initial ice spear, signaling the start of their magical duel. Blue magical energies flickered through the air, accompanied by thunderous blasts and bursts of flame—a truly spectacular display. It may not have been the most dangerous of our battles, but it was certainly the most lively.

On my side, I relied on agility to fight the demon berserker. Though his attacks were powerful and brutal, my greater speed gave me the upper hand.

On Wild Goose Array’s side, the situation was reversed: her enormous firearm was extremely potent and occasionally knocked the mage head over heels, but the gun’s rate of fire was slow. For every shot she managed, her opponent unleashed two or three spells. These spells weren’t individually strong, but the accumulated damage was significant. Worse, they all had freezing effects, and as Wild Goose Array took more hits, her movements grew ever slower.

Soon, she became the only one among us at a disadvantage. Seeing her gritting her teeth and struggling, I grew anxious, wishing I could finish off my stubborn berserker sooner to help her. After all, she had joined this conflict to save us—I couldn’t bear to see her lose her life for our sake; the honor of a battle warrior would never allow it.

Just as I was growing frantic, Wild Goose Array suddenly ceased attacking. She recited a spell, and a gateway to her magical beast-taming space opened before her. Without needing to be called, Rabbit Wipe at her feet obediently hopped through the portal. In its place emerged a rotund, cuddly sheep battle pet—“Sheep Baa”—chewing a mouthful of tender grass as it waddled out.

Another ice spike struck Wild Goose Array, but the beautiful elf showed no fear. She pointed at the undead mage and commanded, “Sheep Baa, go!”

Obeying its master, Sheep Baa bounced—well, perhaps rolled and crawled is more accurate—toward the mage. Its soft, plump flesh wobbled as it moved, nearly concealing its four tiny hooves, making it look like a self-propelled ball of fat. Surprisingly, despite its shape, it moved quickly and soon “rolled” to the mage’s feet.

Though I hesitate to criticize my companion—especially since she’s female—at this moment, I couldn’t help but feel she was wasting time. What could this fluffball possibly accomplish? Unless her opponent had a wool allergy, this hardly seemed a clever tactic. But then… but then…

Would a pile of bones even react to wool?

The time spent summoning a pet would have been better spent firing more shots to whittle down the enemy’s health.

The undead mage clearly felt no threat from the harmless little lamb. Watching it approach, he merely cast an ice armor on himself and focused on conjuring an attack spell—a high-level “Ice Storm.” If it hit, the target would be frozen solid for five seconds, with an additional five seconds of slowed movement after thawing.

The spell took time to prepare; a swirling mass of icy magical energy gathered in the mage’s hands, glowing blue with dazzling brilliance. Wild Goose Array looked anxious, firing two shots that both hit but failed to knock down the mage—only delaying the spellcasting slightly. The magical orb grew larger and brighter, and as it was about to be unleashed—

“Baa~~~” The sheep bleated softly, then suddenly leaped into the air like a giant ball of yarn kicked skyward…

Bang! Its small but sturdy horns thudded against the mage’s bare skull with a hollow sound unique to bone.

The magical orb instantly dissolved—the long-prepared high-level spell thus completely disrupted by Sheep Baa, along with my own understanding of the word “cute.”

No one knows better than a former warrior what just happened: the sheep’s leap was a textbook example of the “Headbutt” skill—a classic warrior move that stuns the enemy briefly and can interrupt any spellcasting in progress.