•••••

Player#42069

NAME: John Smith.

PLAYERS ELIMINATED: 8

ASCENSION ORBS: 21

HP: 2300

MP: 2300

•••

[STATS]

VITALITY: 230

STRENGTH: 230

INTELLIGENCE: 230

AGILITY: 230

DEXTERITY: 230

AVAILABLE STAT POINTS: 0

•••

[SKILLS]

PLAYER EXCLUSIVE SKILL: Gacha Fusion.

COMMON: 342

UNCOMMON: Thunderstrike, Savage Surge, Bloodhound's Mark, Circlet of Revitalization, Quantum Arsenal, Phantom Shroud.

Fodder: 35

RARE: Arcane Firearm Mastery, Spectral Annihilation, Ethereal Mirage Veil, Ricochet Fury.

Fodder: 4

•••••

As John strode purposefully towards his subordinates, his demeanor exuded authority and determination. His eyes, sharp and focused, betrayed a hint of concern as he surveyed the scene before him. Each step he took resonated with the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders.

Upon spotting Aurora amidst the chaos, John's heart skipped a beat, his concern deepening. However, as his gaze met hers, a wave of relief washed over him. Her presence, a beacon of strength and resilience, reassured him in ways words couldn't express.

Aurora, undaunted by the battle's toll on her body, reached for the crimson vial containing the potent health potion. With unwavering resolve, she lifted it to her lips, the liquid cascading down her throat like a lifeline. As the potion took effect, its healing properties surged through her veins, mending the wounds that marred her flesh.

With each passing moment, Aurora's injuries faded into memory, leaving no trace behind. The scars of battle, once imminent, vanished beneath the miraculous touch of the potion, a testament to her indomitable spirit and the resilience of the human soul.

Aurora stood with bated breath as she watched John's approach, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and anticipation. "My lord," she breathed, her voice filled with adoration as she gazed upon him. "You have come to save us."

John's smile was a beacon of relief amidst the darkness that had threatened to engulf them all. "I may be a little later than I should have been," he admitted, his tone laced with regret. "But I am grateful to have arrived before any irreversible harm could be done."

"You truly vanquished Earl with such ease, my lord," Allan exclaimed, his admiration evident in the curve of his smile. "To think we struggled so hard to even keep pace with him."

Kageko's gaze bore into Allan with a mixture of frustration and determination. "Earl was harnessing Lord John's skills; there's no other plausible explanation for our struggles against him. It's evident."

John chuckled wryly, acknowledging the truth in her words. "Indeed, Kageko. His mastery of my abilities has made him a formidable adversary."

Surveying the aftermath of the battle, John resolved to restore order. "Let's tend to the wounded and clear the battlefield. This skirmish may be over, but our vigilance must remain."

His subordinates erupted in jubilation at the declaration, eager to put an end to the chaos.

Turning his back to the scene, John headed back to their base, his mind reeling with disbelief at the havoc Earl had wrought upon his loyal followers.

Dawn, ever insightful, shed light on the situation. "As Kageko surmised, Earl not only acquired rare skills through you, but also mastered your battle tactics, particularly your psychological warfare techniques. Few can withstand such relentless mental pressure in combat."

John nodded thoughtfully at Dawn's explanation, absorbing the intricate details she provided. "Most people are accustomed to both physical and magical adept fighting styles," he remarked, his tone reflecting a deep understanding of the subject matter.

Dawn, however, remained silent.

Undeterred by her lack of response, John simply shrugged, choosing to overlook Dawn's silence. 

As the grim task of clearing the battlefield came to its somber conclusion, a hush fell over the scorched earth. The bodies of their fallen adversaries lay strewn across the desolate landscape, silent witnesses to the brutality of war. With solemn determination, the soldiers gathered the remains, preparing them for their final journey. Beneath the blaze of the sinking sun, the pyres were lit, sending billowing plumes of smoke skyward.

The orange hue of the twilight sky served as a poignant backdrop to the solemn procession, as each fallen enemy was consigned to the flames. It was a scene etched in the memories of those who stood witness – a testament to the sacrifices made in the name of duty and honor. As the fire consumed the fallen, casting flickering shadows upon the earth, John surveyed the scene with a heavy heart. This, he knew, was the largest burial his unit had conducted, a stark reminder of the toll exacted by the relentless march of war.

With the final embers fading into the night, John's weary subordinates began their solemn march back to the base, their minds heavy with the weight of what they had witnessed. Yet amidst the fatigue, there remained a steely resolve. 

And so, as they trudged homeward, the echoes of their footsteps mingled with the whispers of the fallen, a solemn promise to never forget the sacrifices made on the battlefield.

Following John's army's triumphant victory, a jubilant celebration ensued, marked by the revelry of his soldiers. Booze flowed freely, filling the air with its heady aroma, while lively music echoed across the base. The flickering glow of night lamps cast dancing shadows as soldiers swayed and twirled in unrestrained joy, their voices rising in spirited songs.

Amidst the festivity, John sat atop a sturdy boulder, a satisfied smile gracing his features as he observed the merriment of his comrades. The laughter of his subordinates reverberated around him, a testament to their camaraderie forged in the crucible of battle. Despite the hardships endured, their spirits remained unbroken, their unity unwavering in the face of adversity.

As the night wore on, John found solace in the knowledge that his leadership had not only secured victory but also fostered a bond of brotherhood among his troops. In this moment of celebration, amidst the joyous chaos, he recognized the true strength of his army – not just in their skill on the battlefield, but in the bonds of loyalty and friendship that bound them together.

John's gaze flickered to Aurora, who stood before him with her white, cascading hair swaying gently in the breeze. Her hands were clasped behind her back, cradling something unseen. Every so often, her sapphire eyes lifted to meet John's, their intensity momentarily capturing his attention amidst the festivities surrounding them.

"Why not join them in their celebration, Aurora?" John inquired, his smile soft and inviting.

Aurora met his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper as she replied, "I will." Her words carried a weight of hesitation, hinting at unspoken burdens that lay heavy on her heart. Yet, there was a glimmer of determination in her eyes.

John tilted his head, his eyes probing Aurora's silent demeanor. "Is there something you need from me?" he inquired, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Aurora remained silent, her gaze fixed on him as she approached.

With a graceful movement, Aurora presented a delicately crafted flower necklace in her outstretched hand.

Without uttering a single word, John straightened his posture, granting Aurora access to adorn him with the floral accessory.

Looking up at Aurora, John's curiosity sparked. "Did you make this yourself?" he inquired, his eyes reflecting genuine interest.

"No," Aurora replied, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "I... I asked Heira to craft it for me," she admitted, her satisfaction evident in the way she observed John wearing the necklace.

A playful smile tugged at John's lips. "Ah, so you've finally mustered the courage to seek assistance from someone else. That's commendable," he remarked, his tone teasing yet encouraging.

Aurora's gaze dropped to the floor, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The soft glow of the night lamp cast a gentle light on her face, illuminating her delicate features.

John's laughter filled the place, breaking the tension. "I was only joking," he reassured her with a chuckle.

"Thank you," Aurora murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You saved me, Lord John."

John rose from his seat, his demeanor calm and reassuring. He reached out and tenderly placed his hand on Aurora's head, offering her comfort and support.

"As your leader, it is my duty to protect you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "And even if it weren't, I would still go to great lengths to ensure your safety."

A warm smile graced John's lips as he met Aurora's gaze. "Even if others ridicule me for caring too much about you and our fellow comrades, I couldn't care less."

Aurora returned his smile, her expression one of gratitude and admiration. "You are truly noble, my lord."

"You are all like family to me," John declared, his hand dropping to his side as he spoke.

For a fleeting moment, John and Aurora shared a glance, a silent exchange charged with unspoken understanding.

John harbored a deep affection for her, akin to that of a leader towards his trusted subordinate—more akin to a protective brother looking out for his younger sister.

It wasn't a romantic sentiment, but one of genuine care and respect.

"Ah, there you are," Mark's voice cut through the moment, his eyes alight with excitement as he beckoned them to join the impending festivities. "The party is on the verge of commencing. Join us, my lord."

"My lord, you simply must witness my prowess on the dance floor!" Allan exclaimed, his smile radiant with anticipation. "And Kageko has agreed to grace us with her melodious voice."

"I never consented to such a proposal," Kageko retorted.

John surveyed his loyal companions with a fond smile. "Perhaps later. For now, duty calls, and it cannot be ignored."

Aurora delicately clasped John's hand in hers, her touch a gentle embrace that spoke volumes without words. She met his gaze with an inviting smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "That would be quite enjoyable if you were to join us, my lord," she suggested, her voice carrying a pleading lilt.

John returned her gaze, his eyes locking onto the cerulean depths of Aurora's own. He released a slow breath, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I would consider it, on one condition," he replied, his tone holding a hint of mischief. "Only if Kageko graces us with her exquisite voice."

With a nod of agreement, Mark interjected enthusiastically, raising his arm in a gesture of camaraderie, his other hand resting lightly on Kageko's shoulder. "Then it's settled!" he declared with conviction, the excitement evident in his voice.

Meanwhile, tucked away in a distant corner of the scene, Gwendolyn sat in quiet concentration, her pen dancing across the parchment as she meticulously crafted her notes. Hearing footsteps approach, she paused in her task and glanced up to find Sharon standing nearby, curiosity evident in her expression.

"What are you writing?" Sharon inquired, her interest piqued by Gwendolyn's focused demeanor.

Setting aside her quill, Gwendolyn met Sharon's gaze with a knowing smile, her mind already churning with thoughts and plans. "Just some important observations," she replied cryptically, her tone tinged with intrigue. "It seems Lord John has a soft spot for all things cute, sweet, and endearing. His preferences could prove quite valuable for my upcoming designs."

Sharon observed Gwendolyn with furrowed eyebrows, marveling at her unwavering passion for her clothing lines. "Indeed, your dedication is remarkable," she remarked, her tone tinged with both admiration and curiosity.

As John traversed the space between Sharon and Gwendolyn, he became enveloped in the jovial atmosphere. 

"Al! Ready the booze! Lord John is gracing us with his presence!" Mark's voice boomed, echoing across the gathering.

Al emerged from his hut, bearing bottles of potent liquor, his movements swift and purposeful. "The meat is prepared!" he declared, his voice carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd.

Shogun and Migul, their faces alight with anticipation, joined the throng, each carrying a roasted boar as a tribute to the festivities. 

Slowly but surely, the crowd converged at the heart of the base, their spirits high and their laughter echoing through the night. It was a moment of camaraderie and celebration, as everyone came together to revel in the joyous occasion.

Under the luminous gaze of the moon, John reveled in the intoxicating embrace of booze, finding comfort in the vast expanse of open space that surrounded him. As his subordinates swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the music, John watched with a mixture of amusement and contentment.

Amidst the chaotic flurry of bodies, Allan emerged as a beacon of raw talent, his freestyle dance captivating all who beheld it. Each movement was an unpredictable symphony of motion, drawing the attention of the crowd like a magnet. Despite the lack of a structured routine, Allan's performance was mesmerizing, leaving an indelible mark on the night's festivities.

In contrast, Gwendolyn and Romeo exuded an air of refined elegance as they showcased their prowess in noble theme dances. Every step they took was imbued with an aristocratic grace, their movements echoing the sophistication of their time. Gwendolyn's poise and Romeo's debonair charm mesmerized onlookers, their dance a testament to their noble lineage and inherent talent.

In the swirling chaos of life's unexpected turns, Kageko often found herself thrust into situations she'd rather avoid. Tonight was no exception. Reluctantly, she yielded to the demands of the moment, allowing herself to be persuaded once more into singing. John, with his eager anticipation, awaited the moment her voice would fill the space, drowning out the noise of the world around them.

Kageko's voice, a treasure hidden within her, possessed a rare beauty that could soften even the hardest of hearts. Its soft, melodic tones wove through the air, carrying with them a sense of peace and tranquility amidst the chaos.

Laughter erupted, a symphony of joyous sounds, as Kageko's song filled the room. Even Wan, his face planted firmly on the table in a drunken stupor, couldn't help but be stirred by the music. In that moment, as laughter mingled with song, there was a sense of unity—a fleeting glimpse of harmony in an otherwise discordant world.

John cast a wry grin as he surveyed Wan's prone form, collapsed with his face pressed against the table. "Wan's down for the count once more," he remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "He adores his drink, but endurance isn't his strong suit."

Al, ever the bearer of libations, hoisted a hefty bottle filled with rich, amber liquid. With a flourish, he presented it to the gathering, its contents promising warmth and camaraderie in equal measure. "And now, for the pièce de résistance," Al declared, his voice resonating with anticipation, "the main event."

All eyes were drawn to the colossal bottle that Al placed with great care upon the table, its presence commanding attention.

With a deft hand, Al removed the wooden cap from the bottle, revealing its contents with a confident smile. "This one is my latest creation," he announced proudly, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Behold: The Knockout Punch."

Shogun and Pangil, possessing the keenest senses among them, recoiled at the mere scent of the potent brew, their nostrils flaring in protest.

"I just hope it doesn't literally knock us out," John remarked, his tone laced with genuine concern as he eyed the bottle warily.

Undeterred by the apprehension of his lord, Al poured a generous serving into his glass, the liquid glinting ominously in the dim light of the place.

With a flourish, Al raised his glass to his lips and downed its contents in a single gulp, the fiery liquid igniting a blaze of warmth within him.

Gasping for breath, Al chuckled heartily, the sound reverberating through the place. "See? It's not as potent as you think."

Encouraged by Al's display of bravado, John hesitantly reached for his glass, his curiosity overpowering his trepidation. "Well then, let's give it a try," he declared.

Al splashed the potent liquor onto the table, dousing the men before him. With a stern gaze, he addressed Kageko and Sharon, "My apologies, ladies, but this concoction is not for the faint-hearted. It possesses the potential to be lethal." Al then proceeded to serve them their customary drinks, a safer alternative.

John's brow furrowed as he pondered Al's warning. "Is it just me, or did Al mention that this beverage could prove fatal?" he mused aloud, casting a wary glance at his comrades.

Before John could intervene, his subordinates eagerly downed their glasses, heedless of the danger that lurked within.

"Do you find the aroma displeasing, my lord?" Al inquired, a sly grin playing on his lips as he observed John's reaction.

With a reassuring smile, John shook his head, impressed by the absence of bitterness in the drink. "Not at all, Al. It possesses a delightful fruity scent, devoid of any harshness," he remarked, masking any apprehension he may have felt.

John's attention snapped to the table as Mark's face crashed against it, followed by a domino effect of Pangil, Shogun, Romeo, Abobo, Bano, and every other drinker in the vicinity. His eyes widened in realization. "Now I know why it is called Knockout Punch," he exclaimed, his voice laced with both awe and dread.

Al, seemingly unfazed, raised his hands triumphantly. "I remain the undefeated champion of imbibing," he declared amidst the echoing laughter of the still-standing revelers.

"This concoction is lethal, quite literally," John remarked, setting his glass down firmly. "I refuse to partake unless I'm actively seeking a demise."

He watched incredulously as Al guzzled from the massive bottle, seemingly immune to its effects. "I can scarcely believe my eyes," John muttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the spectacle before him.

•••••

Night had descended upon the fortress of Heartbound, casting a shadow over its formidable walls. Inside the town hall, Fivan sat upon her desk, her features etched with concern. Samira stood before her, her expression grave as she delivered the grim news.

"Earl and his entire group were wiped out," Samira reported, her voice heavy with sorrow. "They didn't even last a day on the battlefield."

Fivan's disbelief was evident in her eyes as she processed the shocking revelation. "How could that be?" she whispered, her thumb finding its way to her mouth, a nervous habit betraying her worry. "Earl was my strongest subordinate, so formidable that I knew he was capable of easily defeating me."

As Samira approached Fivan, the moonlight streaming through the window cast a haunting glow on her silhouette, accentuating her determined stance. "What should we do, empress? Should we rally our remaining forces and obliterate John Smith before he becomes an insurmountable threat?" Samira's grip tightened on the handle of her katana, her eyes reflecting the resolve burning within her.

"I am renowned as the greatest strategist in my realm, yet even I failed to foresee this catastrophe. How could a formidable Player with countless Skills fall so swiftly?" Fivan's gaze locked onto Samira, her expression a mixture of concern and contemplation. "John Smith sets his sights on me next. I can sense the ominous intent lurking behind those indifferent eyes of his."

Rising to her feet, Fivan's tails swayed ominously in the darkness of the room. "Summon every member of the Foxtail Coalition. Order them to erect a formidable defensive perimeter around our stronghold," she commanded, her voice laced with authority. "Impress upon them the importance of safeguarding their empress at all costs."