Three men stepped into Misha's sight, openly brandishing their weapons.

The leftmost one on the vanguard was young, lithe, and skinny, with spiky brown hair and golden-dyed tips, holding an iron longsword in his slender arm. He was sharp-edged and sharp-featured with a cruel edge to him — little to no softness in the boy, only the sharpness of a cleaver. The jagged scar beneath his right eye didn't look all that old.

The second in line on the rightmost side was dark-skinned, young like his opposite counterpart, with messy, dark cerulean-dyed hair that puffed akin to a cloud. He looked softer, his edges more rounded, but sharp-eyed like a honed dagger. In his arms was a sleek, sightless black rifle.

Finally, the farthest one in the middle was middle-aged, ironically enough. He was ratty and short and fidgety, nervously holding a double-edged, one-handed metal axe that certainly didn't suit him. His steps were uncertain and almost uneven in a way, his back bent with a small hunch.

They wore ragtag mixes of armour and modern tactical equipment; a yellow bullet-proof vest, an iron breastplate that caught the dwindling sunlight, a pair of dark grey gauntlets that went up to the elbows, and varied other pieces were sprinkled between the trio.

Misha narrowed her eyes. "They don't seem that happy being out here."

The duo in front seemed much more prepared, while the older gentleman in the back looked as sloppy as could be for the situation.

The young boys – somewhere between their early-20s and late-teens – seemed completely uninterested in searching their surroundings for enemies one bickered with the other, while the guy trailing behind them had a shoddy posture and downcast eyes. One could see that they didn't fit together as a team from miles away, the synergy was practically non-existent.

"Hurry up, you useless old bastard," the swordsman huffed at the slowest of them.

With a quick nod he began walking faster, but that didn't seem placate him.

"Do you seriously want us to carry you?" he sneered back at him again, then spat on his shoes, "Get a move on."

The older man in the back didn't seem all that surprised by their behavior, only forcing a toady smile across his face. The throatiness in his voice as he spoke made his companions grimace. 'What a sorry bastard,' Misha thought.

"I'm sorry, I'll walk faster."

But even as she analyzed them, they had their own worries as well.

 

"What a garbage place. Where are all the monsters today?"

Leon sighed.

"It's not like the training dolls back at camp were any better, but at least they were always there." He pushed a hand into his pocket. "We haven't seen anything for a while now."

"Everyone's been hunting a lot more lately," Bertrand drawled, "The new waves probably haven't gotten here yet."

Leon scratched the back of his head. "Isn't that even weirder? Why's everyone so worked up these days?"

His brown-haired teammate — Leon — complained and childishly waved around his sword without a care in the world. Bertrand sighed at his behavior, but his words weren't wrong; too many Avatars were coming out of their forts these days. Just recently the average level of Outpost Gheist had risen to 20, a whole 2 Levels of increase.

Leveling up was pretty easy once someone got the hang of it contrary to popular opinion, whether they'd have the guts to go out and hunt monsters properly was the actual question. But a sudden vast majority had gotten over their fears overnight.

"Who knows? Maybe the old General dying finally knocked some sense into them."

Leon clicked his tongue and out of the corner of Bertrand's eye Albert shifted awkwardly, shuffling his feet to keep up with them. 'You don't like when I mention the General, huh? I wonder...' These two — Bertrand thought with a light smile — were way too easy to read.

"The old General, huh. Just thinking about that fucking asshole drives me nuts."

"Doesn't it? It's his fault we're here right now after all."

His smile grew wider as he cocked his head forward ever so slightly, watching Leon's mouth thin into a tight line.

Though he had much the same feelings toward their exile as his "friend" he didn't feel the particular need to air them out. Thankfully Leon thought differently, which made it entertaining enough to fan his flames, sit back, and watch the results.

But he still had to admit if he knew this would be the outcome of all their planning, he'd have just stayed silent and leveled-up quietly with him as one of his subordinates, but instead, here he was. Now the only lackey in his possession was Leon.

The swordsman looked towards the back of the line as Bertrand stifled his smile.

"Hey, Albert, do you have anything to say right now?"

The older man opened his mouth slightly as if thinking of something to say, but nothing came out.

"Now of all times you're shutting your rotten mouth, you coward? Didn't you go around acting like a king while riding on the old bastard's influence?" Silence blanketed them as his dark eyes glared into Albert's smaller frame, and suddenly they had come to a stop.

"Don't you feel that it's unfair to drag us down with you?" He stopped for a second as if to let his words sink in. "Maybe you should've thought better before touting that fossil's terrible plans, or you wouldn't have fucked us over too."

It had been a terrible plan, yes, but it was also the only plan. They wouldn't ever get another window of opportunity like that again if they let it close. It had been the result of many coincidences and happens-stances all occurring at the same time — his two frontliners were away hunting, the Witch was only god knows where outside the Outpost, and most of his supporters were unavailable in one way or another because of the recent attack on the camp.

That didn't change the fact it was still a great gamble, but the more they waited the more his New World Faction consolidated power, and how difficult would it be to kill him then? Even Kedrick's troupe had placed their chips on him after the attack.

But what mattered was the gamble failed. They lost, and the only outcomes were disappearing or dying. The trio chose the former.

"...t-The General," Albert stuttered, "The General's plan would've worked if Roderick hadn't gotten the [Last Wish—"

Leon stepped towards him deceptively quickly as if he had been waiting for that exact moment and slapped the back of his head, which fell forward with a dull snap as Albert grunted. He instinctively put up his arms around himself defensively, and Bertrand chuckled.

"So what? That's not even my argument, dumbass," Leon sneered. "Try listening to me better."

"C'mon, give him a break. He's old already," the gunman mediated half-heartedly, "His hearing's just not what it used to be."

"I couldn't give less fucks about his age. I just want him to listen." The swordsman slapped him again, but this time Albert barely made a sound as he shut his eyes. "Are you listening? After all the shit you've put us through, you better be or so god help you."

Leon seemed to be coincidentally forgetting that they'd joined the plot he now damned to hell and back quite voluntarily. No one had ever forced them to cooperate, but Bertrand knew none of that mattered to him right now.

He knew, despite all the façade Leon put up of being disgruntled by the situation, that this wasn't about anything like that. His anger came from some deeper place, somewhere darker inside him. He didn't care about the failed operation or the exile or the old General or even Albert himself — he just wanted to sink his teeth into something like a rabid dog with a chew toy.

"I pity the demented fuck who ever thought about making an incompetent bastard like you Lt.Colonel. Just how many dirty favors did you trade for it, huh? How much of a corrupt bastard are you really?" The gunman smirked contently at the man's humiliation, savoring his overwhelmed expression as he opened then closed his mouth again and again without retorting.

'How spineless.'

Albert was just another one of those cowards who holed up in the shelter ever since the game started and let all the soldiers get stronger, ordering them to bring half-dead monsters so he wouldn't get eliminated in the first Main Quest.

Even Leon was better than the leech before them.

His head stayed bowed even as the man couldn't find his voice, as if it'd hidden somewhere deep within the piles of bodies around them. But his eyes, oh, those droopy brown eyes, they were a different matter — inside them Bertrand recognized the tiniest sparks of defiance and resistance. He wanted to crush them into nothing.

He pushed down the smile threatening to bloom wider across his face and spoke, "Are you really going to keep quiet? Is this the extent of your loyalty to the old General?"

As he expected, his droopy eyes snapped to focus.

"You were so keen on defending him," Bertrand mocked. "But I guess when it comes to ensuring your own well-being, you can forsake anything and everything to survive."

"That... That isn't tru—!"

"And who the fuck do you think you are to decide what is and isn't true?" Leon's face was blank like a cold slate of concrete, but his eyes were wide with excitement. He and Bertrand were enjoying this too much.

His hands twitching and veins pulsing through his flesh, he raised his sword slightly. His blood was boiling as he stared down his increasingly nervous target. Even as he barely held himself back, a part of him threatened to break his restraints and roar to the surface.

"Hey, w-what... What are you doing?"

"Just getting kinda tired of your attitude, maybe I'll cut off your ears since you barely seem to use them anyway. How about something else that you don't use much while we're at it?" Leon's eyes travelled downwards, coming to a stop at the older man's groin as his hand twitched around his blade's handle.

For a second Bertrand was reminded why he liked to stick close to the swordsman even though he'd never been his favorite subordinate.

"y-You... you, no, you wouldn't—"

"You, y-you, no, y-y-you," the gunman mocked, and Leon chimed in right after. "Oh," the swordsman interrupted with a smile, "I certainly would. I'm about to right now."

"You can't—"

"Oh please, shut up. This is why you keep getting on my nerves. You're not a Lieutenant Colonel anymore, so stop barking like you still hold any power, you mangy dog."

Leon strode forward with an empty face like a porcelain mask, but a sharp razorwire grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Fortunately for his would-be victim, Bertrand wasn't interested in seeing him dead just yet. It was an entertaining show, yes, but despite that he still stretched out his rifle and blocked his approach.

The gunner deliberately stepped into his personal space, playfully tilting his head and locking eyes with Leon. His violent momentum which had been growing with every second died at once.

"What are you doing?"

His controlled expression rotted right off his face and gave way to a wrinkled brow.

"He can still be useful for us. We don't stand to gain much by killing him right now."

Leon felt his will weaken as he glared deep into the gunman's dark gaze, a muddy puddle of stale water. But he didn't step down. He would always be only the servant to a king if he stepped down even in this situation, and he sure as hell didn't want that.

"What do we get from keeping him alive, then? He's just another mouth draining our resources and a dumbass that doesn't even contribute to our fights." He lowered his sword slightly, but the edge was still pointed at Albert's direction. Deep inside he still hoped Bertrand would let him cut the other down.

The gunner in question thought differently.

"First," he said in a low and deep tone devoid of his prior enjoyment, "Put away your blade if you're not going to use it. Or are you gonna try and get past me?"

"Of course not," Leon said, quicker than he wanted to. He frowned deeply his own and the other boy's voices. His expression grew heavier as his gaze shifted from the gunman to his previous target and his fingers slowly grazed the handle of his longsword, but in the end he settled back on Bertrand's poisonous gaze. He turned his face away with a twitch of his eyes.

"Alright, I'll cool down for now. But you still didn't answer my question."

Albert sighed deeply behind them and lowered his axe. Bertrand smiled.

"Well, he can be good bait for starters. And we can use him to scout as well, or do you think he has the courage to run away? Or if we start running low on supplies like you're worried about, we can try our hands at this alternative food source we have ready."

The swordsman quirked an eyebrow at his comment, and Albert sucked his sigh back in.

"Look," Bertrand laughed, "It's not bad to keep those things in mind, good job. You're getting better every day. Hell, maybe you'll end up as a good leader one day too. Just keep listening to my orders until then."

"...Yeah, fine."

Leon swallowed down a handful of arguments he wanted to use, knowing it wouldn't do any good now that the leader had given his word. If he kept arguing, never mind being on equal footing one day, he wouldn't be able to even remain as his subordinate.

Bertrand smiled wider as his acquiescence. He focused on the venom hidden inside Leon's own eyes and felt satisfaction wash over him as he playfully hit the other boy's shoulder, chuckling. 'Yes, keep behaving just like that.'

It looked like the street mutt didn't need to be reminded of who fed him. He'd already beaten a lesson into the swordsman once, and he knew that he'd get another scar if he ever gave Bertrand a reason to. Just because his Levels were a bit higher didn't mean anything between the two of them, but it never hurt to tighten the leash once or twice.

They resumed their pace shortly with a quieter atmosphere than before, and while the other two weren't comfortable with it, Bertrand sure was. He relished in knowing it was all because of him.

 

Misha digested the situation as they passed her hiding spot, tapping her fingers thoughtfully. She'd gotten an idea of not only their overall position and personalities, but also their situations and the current situation of whatever this "Outpost Gheist" place was. It sounded military in nature but she could never be too sure.

'How can I know more though?' It didn't matter if she knew everything about the trio and this Outpost if she didn't know basic info on the world itself. And now that she'd done some scouting on them she reached an answer on what to do next.

She quickly got up and prowled away from them, keeping their general direction in mind.

Many different plans swam around her head as as she moved. Briefly she thought of facing them head-on, but she scratched that from her mind. Then she thought of trying to separate them from each other and picking them off one by one, but it was also knocked off the list as she played around with other ideas.

She scrapped plan after plan as she eyed the area, stitching the best parts of each one together to create more. Their path seemed set into a straight line as they continued down a main boulevard, sometimes ducking behind rubble and between buildings to dodge roving enemies.

They avoided even the small fries, Misha noted. Were they really that weak? No, maybe they were saving their energy for the rest of the seemingly long journey to... wherever they wanted to reach. 'Smart thinking.' But where exactly was their goal? No — Misha thought with a shake of her head — that wasn't important now, she'd think about it later.

She jumped from alley to alley and ruined building to ruined building around them, not much trailing them but getting a scope of any opportunities she could grasp. The scarce buildings behind the rows of tall, overgrown trees were too small to knock down, and the ones who weren't had already collapsed long ago. At least they were good hiding spots.

Shifting her focus to the trees she saw some thicker ones which could serve as decent roadblocks, specially if they were distracted by something else. Like an attacker. 'Let's keep that in mind for later. Anything else?'

Unfortunately, not much — the crumbling overturned cars weren't of much use, and though the road was significantly banged up there weren't any major depressions or holes which could further hinder them. Again, maybe if there was something else grabbing the trio's attention they could prove useful.

As Misha's mind came back to the topic of a direct fight, she began to wonder. Would she be capable of fighting alone against two fighters whom she knew not the capabilities of? Or maybe, she could try a more indirect approach to solving her problems.

The gears in her mind turned, turned, turned as fresh ideas sprouted. Then, as the cogs clicked into place, a cunning light glinted inside her silver eyes. 'Why should I fight them myself when there's plenty of things around me wanting to do just that?'

She remembered the many monsters she'd encountered on her way. Strong and truly many in number, who would be happy to do her fighting for her if she played her cards right. Now she needed to get to just that — using her hand to the fullest.

'Which ones should I choose?'

It was getting dark, quickly. Just a little more time and the dwindling sunlight would give way to pitch-black darkness.

She was worried if she journeyed too far away she wouldn't be able to find her targets anymore, but most of the closest monsters weren't strong enough for her plans. And maybe those beasts she'd seen wouldn't even be there anymore when she went looking, they were living creatures that wandered and hunted too after all.

With those criteria in mind she narrowed it down to two possible choices. She could play it safe at the cost of less power to work with, or she could go for the riskier option sure to help her succeed. Misha grimaced — that choice wasn't too hard to make.

After some thought she settled on the best option by her standards.

She kicked her feet off the ground for impulse and ran, straying from her former route, passing through the labyrinthine wasteland in which her targets hid. Maybe they'd moved since she'd seen them? She certainly hoped not.

Her worries were dispelled as she heart soft hissing and scurrying feet nearby.

As she expectantly got closer and closer, heart beating faster in her chest, she began to hear other sounds as well. The noisy clicking of fangs, something sharp dragging against concrete, the wet, meaty noise of ripping flesh, and the low growl of something big. Not incredibly big, but certainly bigger than herself.

She turned a final corner and came face-to-face with the apocalyptic scene she'd been looking for. Around a pile of mutilated bodies missing limbs and chunks of flesh, a small camp had been erected, made from scraps of metal, broken wood, and torn bloody clothing.

Several small fires burning inside the cold iron embrace of old barrels, fed by blackened trash which had long since become charred and ashen, illuminated the darkening environment, revealing the camp's inhabitants — monsters, of course.

Lizardmen and reptilians with scales of many different colors congregated around the feasting pile of dead meat like flies and maggots, while the smaller of their kin nibbled on bones and leftovers while tending to the fires. Tents of fabric with poor frames were all around the small clearing nestled between buildings, maybe once a small garden or courtyard?

From a quick count of heads Misha settled on around two dozens scurrying around akin to cockroaches.

She barely paid attention to them, for her true worry was the thing resting inside the biggest tent of the lot. A shelter of ragged cloth, ropes and wires with a wooden foundation, revealing a lumbering thing sat with its legs crossed inside. She swallowed dry.

Another low growl rumbled from its huge frame.

Its body was of a deformed alligator with sturdy-looking scutes the color of the rising sun instead of scales growing from its scarred flesh, its neck slightly bloated and overgrown, of which its crocodile head sat atop of, with extended fangs growing like small horns from between its dark, bloody lips. It looked wide and fat, but there was sure to be muscles bulging underneath its natural armour.

It wore a filthy loincloth from under which grew its great tail, ending bluntly instead of in a pointy tip. Covering its chest was an oversized piece of loose steel armor like thick chainmail, drapped around its frame from elbow to waist in thick chains.

In one hand it held a half-eaten human corpse missing their upper half, while its weapon — a huge hammer or maybe a mace — laid beside it, hidden by the darkness of the tent. She couldn't see the upper half of its face or its eyes, but she guessed it must've happy with such a feast before it.

She was starting to regret this.

The more Misha looked at it the more she felt the danger her plan entailed. For the first time since she'd come here on a whim, she began to consider the possibility they could be too strong for her to handle.

She really hadn't thought this through much.

The largest monster in the tent would've probably been graded D-Rank or so back in her world.

'D-Rank.'

She felt a familiar tightness in her chest.

A knot in her stomach that tightened and tightened like her belly was filled with squirming worms instead of entrails. A void inside her like a black hole that twisted up her viscera. Her heart began to thump, thump, thump loudly against her chest, beating so hard she wondered if her ribs would break.

In an instant she felt like she'd lost all her nerve. 'Maybe I should find another target.' She felt her feet itching to move, but they stayed glued to the ground. 'It'd probably be easier to fight those three myself.'

Her eyes were glued to the monster no matter how much she tried looking away.

'I shouldn't be here.'

Her lungs hurt.

Misha's grip tightened around her spear until her knuckles were bone-white and it only made it worse. She realized her hands were slick and covered in sweat, and suddenly her lungs were flooded by the stench of blood and putrid poison. She felt like she was covered in dust and dirt and beads of sweat were rolling down her face.

She barely registered one of the smaller lizards staring right at her. Its sunken black-purple eyes set in pits of dark-gray skin rolled around its sockets, violet blood leaking from a claw-like wound on its chin. It looked hungry.

'Move.'

But no matter how much she tried her muscles remained locked like they'd turned to stone.

'Move.'

The scaled lizard's mouth cracked open and it shrieked, pointing a thin claw towards her.

'C'mon, just move.'

She felt like she wasn't really in her body anymore. Like she was just a passenger staring at someone else steer the wheel, driving headfirst into traffic. She probably looked stupid, just standing there wide-eyed as those monsters noticed her.

The sounds of armour being crushed and desperate screaming filled her ears. She saw bloody fair-blonde hair and a battered smile of raw meat sprinkled with loose pearly whites. The air felt suffocatingly heavy and warm blood ran down her chin, the taste of iron filling her mouth.

Was she really back there again?

Misha didn't know.

She wanted to laugh at herself for the ridiculousness of this situation, but she couldn't even do that.

The other lizards hissed and clicked their teeth like angry vermin as they rose from the floor, reaching for their weapons. Their sunken eyes were all locked on her now, but she couldn't stop looking at the larger figure as its hand rose to take another bite out of the corpse it held.

Its jaw opened to reveal rows upon rows of bent fangs and blood-drenched purple-ish gums. In one bite its entire mouth closed around the woman's right leg, twisted teeth sinking into her flesh as it rotated its head to snap it off. Bone cracked and meat tore and flesh ripped loudly above all the shrieking around her as it chewed, shredding her leg before swallowing.

'You have to move. Now.'

They gathered around her like scavengers smelling fresh meat. Or maybe carrion eaters catching the stench of rotten old meat that'd died long ago but just hadn't accepted it yet. The weapons glinted sharply as they caught the light of the fire.

The giant monster lifted its free hand slowly and deliberately, and she realized why they hadn't attacked her yet.

These beasts were awaiting orders from their master.

Its dark and bloody index claw bent out to point at her, as sharp as his lackeys' weapons under the light of the fire, and its mouth opened — still littered with the remains of its meal — to speak. It gurgled out a guttural hiss, gurgled out something in an old and primal tongue, like broken bones drenched in blood to her ears.

At once she took back the wheel and turned on her feet.

She tripped on herself almost fell before her boots slammed against the ground, and before she knew it ruined buildings were flashing past her peripherals. Her vision was dark. She heard someone panting hard, then realized a second later it was actually her.

Her body was hot and stuffy and covered in sweat as she pumped Force Aura into legs to keep her speed. Her veins bulged white as she took big gulps of cold air into her aching lungs, the pain gradually seeping through her body. Water through sand.

Behind Misha a band of lizardmen quickly swelled into a dangerous size, more than half of the camp hot on her heels.

The big one couldn't be together with them, else she'd hear it lumbering behind her with the others. There was no way something of that size could move silently, and even as it expressed hostility at her it never made the motion to get up and give chase. She was safer then, but still not completely safe.

"Calm down, this was all your plan, wasn't it?" she whispered to herself, though she could barely hear it under all the noise.

This had been a horrible plan.

Weapons clattered and serpentine tongues hissed and clawed feet stamped the ground behind Misha as she leapt over a pile of rubble, her Aura-enhanced strength letting her jump higher than any normal normal human possibly could.

Her hairs stood on end and her head blared warning signals, and she barely noticed the chill going up her spine as something whistled through the air behind her. She snarled as pain flared from her left ear, warm and heavy blood running down her cheeks and neck as she saw something fly past her — a spear— no, more like javelin, made from rugged bone sharpened into a sleek weapon.

Blood ran down her ear canal, then she couldn't hear anything from the left anymore.

For a second fear wrapped its claws tightly around her heart, and she imagined a hundred more spears pointed at her back ready to fly. Even as she tried resisting the terror gripping her, she only felt more sweat running down her hurting limbs.

'Calm down, it's all in your head. You haven't even been running for that long either. It's all in your head.'

She glanced back and saw the thing that'd thrown the spear, a lizard much bigger than the rest spearheading the charging band of hunters, lean and toned with various other bone javelins clattering against its armored back. Its sunken purple eyes shone with an intelligent malice back at her.

In that moment, she briefly remembered the eyes of the monster that'd taken everything from her.

 

[The user has initiated a confrontation.]

[Appraisal of enemy stats possible.]

[Reptilian Warrior (x14) | Grade: ✪ | Power: Lv.24~29]
[Innate Skill: 〈Warband〉 +30% defense when fighting together with the same species.]

[Reptilian Hunter | Grade: ✪✪ | Power: Lv.35]
[Innate Skill: 〈Predator〉 +50% attack and agility when fighting against weaker foes.]

 

This was her first time fighting against a two-star, but besides that, all their Innate Skills were incredibly unfair. Misha's brain raced as she thought of just how she could possibly kill them. 'Wait, I don't need to fight them.'

She grit her teeth through the pain of what must've been a completely torn ear.

"This is all part of your plan. You never wanted to fight them, they'll be the ones fighting for you." The wind behind her whistled again and she barely ducked down an alley before she heard another javelin crash into the wall behind her with the sound of tumbling rubble. "You just need to guide them properly."

With that thought in mind she sped through the city towards the boulevard she'd been in earlier. Despite being bipedal like her, these monsters were deceptively quick as they kept pace with her throughout the whole journey.

She felt her legs and feet screaming with every step as the ache flooded through every nook and cranny of her body, but the pain was refreshing as she felt herself sinking further back into her body. The panic wilted slightly as she breathed deeply, getting better at picking out the sudden flashes of uneasiness coming from the javelins aimed at her.

'Almost there, I just need—'

Then she made a wrong turn, right into a dead-end alley.

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as her metal boots slid against the floor, coming to a stop as the clattering of blades got closer and closer. Behind her a single deep, croaking hiss rose above the high-pitched shrieks.

Eyes searching desperately for any possible exit, she clenched both hands around her spear. The buildings surrounding her were unfortunately intact compared to the other ruins, and save for a locked dumpster, a white pipe clinging to the furthermost wall, and a high window to the right, it was thoroughly empty.

She couldn't run away this time.

Misha ducked below another bone javelin screaming through the air, which hammered into the wall and showered her with dust and bits of concrete. She winced as a line of pain flared up across her nape, already turning to face her agressors.

The gaggle of Reptilians had gathered on the entrance of the alley as the biggest of them — the champion harassing her all this time —  came forward, almost a full torso bigger than her. 'He's fucking huge.'

It looked like a huge komodo dragon standing on its hind legs, with axolotlesque red growths like branches sprouting from the sides of its head, and greyish deep blue scales and sagging skin riddled with rolling veins. It's muscles bulged through the leather gambeson it wore, inlaid with blue doves and covered in clumsily-sewn together plates of iron, that doubled over as a short loincloth.

The monster's lips pulled back and shaped its mouth into what resembled a lopsided grin, tugging at the corners and showing long fangs like splintered wood set into dark gums. Instead of reaching for another of its remaining bone javelins, it grabbed a curved handle peeking out from behind itself and pulled, unsheathing a butcher's cleaver-like blade covered in old and fresh blood.

Misha's heart drummed in her neck, blood rushing through her arteries, knuckles tight as she gripped her spear. It felt heavier than ever. In a breath Force Aura pulsed through her veins, a silver outline blooming forth and a sheen of metal flashing over herself.

The Reptilian Hunter prowled forward, maws split open into a grotesque façade of a smile, holding its monstrous sword aloft. Misha acted first. She dashed forward with a surge of pale energy around her leg, the blade of her spear grazing the concrete wall as sparks flew. The creature's arm swung down to meet her, arcing over her head as she just barely ducked beneath it.

Her spear cut into its gambeson and drew a line of running blood as she flew by its hulking frame, feet slamming against the ground to stop herself as she came nearly face-to-face with the Reptilians near the exit. They gathered their weapons and pushed them forward to form a wall of sharp bone and stone against her, shrieking a round of shrill cheers at the spectacle before them.

She turned just in time to see their champions' worn steel cascading town on her, and she pivoted out of its way as the barreling weapon sunk into the ground. Taking advantage of her momentum she used the spear as a quarterstaff,

 

They stopped.

"Look up ahead, another monster's crawling out of the rubble already."

 

[The user has initiated a confrontation.]

[Appraisal of enemy stats possible.]

 

The dark-skinned one – called Bertrand – warned us as he took a few steps back, aiming up his assault rifle and placing himself behind the place where the sight should've been. Leon clicked his tongue and smirked while taking a step forward, resting the longsword atop his right shoulder in a relaxed posture. I knew that I wouldn't be much help even if I wanted to, so I just stayed back.

 

[ Reptilian Warrior | Grade: ✪ | Power: Lv.27]
[Innate Skill: 〈Warband〉 +30% defense when fighting together with the same species.]

 

It was one of the most common monsters in the region, second to only those weird mutts that appeared at night. Just thinking about them gave me the wildest shivers, so I decided to focus on the current situation.

Although it was only natural to assume that we would be at a disadvantage due to only having bladed weapons and a gun at our disposal, that would be an incredibly wrong assumption in this ruined world, which allowed everything to change:

Someone with a flimsy dagger could bring down a house if they had the necessary Attributes and Skills.

The low-rank Avatars typically had only 1 or 2 active Skills besides their core passive ones, while the mid-ranks and high-ranks bumped up that number to 3 or even 4 if they could, but they couldn't afford any more than that.

Roderick Powell probably had 5 of them if I'd judged the bastard correctly, just shooting in the dark.

'That piece of shit...'

I only had 2 that I'd barely been able to afford after getting in the graces of some nasty and indulgent Gods who liked to watch humans commit atrocities against their own kin, some things so horrible that I wouldn't dare to even think about.

But such was the price of living in this new world:

You did anything and everything you had to do to live another day.

 

I felt lucky to have something to cut up right now.

Else, killing that useless Lt. Colonel behind me would've been an inevitable situation in my eyes. He was honestly a piece of shit that could not get enough of barking back at us like an insolent dog, and I'd thought about killing him even before we left the outpost. But all of that aside, I had to keep my focus right now.

To be honest, I was pretty confident not only due to my power and experience against Dark Rose Footmen but also because of the unique little synergy that I and Bertrand had. I hated him beyond compare, but I knew that he was a good captain.

"Let's break it apart. I'm just waiting on you, man."

"Don't you usually just rush ahead without even a warning?"

"Well, I'm feeling more cooperative this time."

I knew he probably wouldn't tolerate much anymore after our short conflict earlier, so I'd conceed some.

'It'd do no good for both of us if our relationship stayed tense like this.'

Back to important matters, I didn't even put this little guy in my eyes, and neither did Bertrand probably.

[Job: Hammer Swordsman | Attribute: Strength (8)  | Power: Lv.26.]

[Job: Assault Gunman | Attribute: Focus (10)  | Power: Lv.24.]

"Make quick work of it, Leon."

"Roger. You don't have to always warn me about that."

"Never hurts to say it again."

Time to get this party started.

"Foresight."

As soon as he said the Skill's name his pupils glowed an eerie, soft red light. I hadn't experienced it personally, but he'd somewhat explained what it felt like. I thought it was really weird, and I personally hadn't really understood it at the time...

...Maybe because he was more than a bit drunk.

In his eyes, all of the target's intentions were revealed to him — he knew where it wanted to move, where it wanted to attack, all the amount of vitality left in its body, and more. The only thing was that sometimes he couldn't analyze it quickly enough.

His body couldn't catch up to his mind or something.

'Isn't that a normal feeling for everyone, though? I don't see how his case was special.'

Ignoring the errant thoughts in my head, I whistled in agreement with his words as I charged forward, brandishing my sword. The synthetic beast tried to unleash its paralyzing wail as it lifted its head to the sky, but it was interrupted quite easily.

A hail of bullets fell on its visored helmet and made sparks fly, leaving shallow imprints.

I knew that wasn't enough to even stun it for more than a second, never mind seriously damage it. The thing's body buckled forward and its halberd rose and fell crudely, missing my shoulder as I dodged to the left and kicked it in the side to get behind it.

The monster didn't lose sight of me, attacking horizontally and cutting a few strands of my hair when I ducked.

'This is just the right situation.'

"Earth Striker!"

I roared while swinging my longsword down in a heavy arc, feeling cold pulses of MP being drained from my body as the silver blade was encased in a rocky dark brown aura. The Dark Rose Footman charged after regaining its rattled bearings and tried to swing at the incoming weapon, but it didn't even fully raise its arm before my sword forcefully slammed down on it.

The sound of metal being crushed rang out, and the beast's arm was ripped right out of its slim pauldron.

As soon as the Skill ended I performed a roundhouse kick to its visor and sent it tumbling, making it fall backward on the concrete pavement. The leftover iron from it would be worth a lot of Merits, but we didn't have the luxury to collect it right now.

I rapidly gained momentum again and swung my sword while flashing a warped smile, feeling adrenaline pumping through my body as my hairs stood on end. I felt absolutely everything right as it happened, enjoying every sensation:

The way my muscles tightened and filled with vigor, the way my bones popped, the way my excited blood rushed through my veins...

It felt so delightfully amazing.

But before my blade could make contact, the Dark Rose Footman lunged to the left.

"Claw on your right!"

It tried to slash at my side, but this time it was my turn to dodge its strike. Our strategy relied heavily on Bertrand, but that didn't mean my own duty wasn't just as important too. He stayed back and gave the orders, while I took down the enemies.

Well, I hated that damn prick, but I also knew that my only chance to survive was following his orders.

My sword crashed against the street and dug out patches of concrete, but I still had much more energy left to be bothered by one measly missed strike. After putting sufficient distance between us, I raised my longsword and activated Earth Striker again, crushing the creature's leg violently into the pavement.

The fight surprisingly went on as it kept trying to fight, but it was already clear who would win:

"Slash at your back!"

"Kick on your right leg!"

"Slash at your head!"

With my brute strength and his Foresight Skill, we were a force to be reckoned with.

'Of course, I'll never admit it to that bastard.'

Before long, the Dark Rose Footman fell to the ground lifelessly in a heap, little more than a lump of broken armour now. I didn't even break a sweat but instead felt more relaxed than ever as an electronic ding rang inside my head:

[Lv.26 → Lv.27↑]

[Strength (8) → Strength (8.5)↑]

Slashing beings that still breathed was my favorite thing, which normally made others call me a crazy bastard. But you know what? I didn't give a fuck about what they thought about me. Because I wasn't trying to please anyone, I was just doing what I wanted.

'Damn, I'm starting to sound like those Mask guys.'

But isn't this what this whole new world was about? Just doing what you wanted

[The Gods are satisfied with your vicious display.]

And as it turns out, some Gods really like that kind of stuff. Well, there were so many Gods from so many different worlds and pantheons all gathered here that there was at least one God that liked every type of activity, from cooking to torture and all in between.

"Damn, I'm still all fired up."

"Just don't get yourself hurt."

"Oh, speaking of that. Hey Bertrand, how many [Tears Of Recovery] do we have left?"

"Hmm... Let me check."

"Can you pass one over really quick? I'm, uh, a bit sore here."

All Skills naturally placed a small, though stackable burden on the body, so using them a lot wasn't good for your health.

He searched around the maroon pockets of the light brown belt wrapped around his waist, and then fished out a small, cylindrical glass ampoule filled with a bright azure liquid that sparkled like stars reflected on the ocean's surface. Or like salty tears.

Its name could've been so much better...

Anyway, it was one of the lowest of recovery items, but also effective and popular everywhere around the world.

"We have 7 in stock. Don't ask for some after every fight, or else we'll run out."

"Don't worry about it. I'll take it in moderation"

"I'm serious, you damn brute. This stuff is dangerously addictive you know?"

"I said don't worry about it, ok?"

"Well, you better not say I didn't warn you."

Why did he keep poking his nose into my business...

'I'm the one who's doing all the hard work around here, not you.'

I sneered silently before taking the bottle and uncorking it. I downed it in a single gulp, the refreshing and warm liquid betraying the cold texture as it flowed down my throat and soothed my entire body to clear away any tension in my muscles, no matter how small. It didn't touch my MP pool, but just helping physically was enough for a fighter like me.

But then, as we were relaxing:

"Aahhh--!"

We both heard Albert scream behind us, and when we turned around we saw a rusty halberd pierced through his chest, covered in blood and torn flesh due to it being half-blind. It gave up sharpness for brutality, as the thing could afford that gamble.

"Ah, damn. We missed a second one."

"These guys are so annoying."

"Right? Why are they always so quiet like that."

We didn't care much, though.

The living armour threw Albert's body to the side and he crashed into the ground like a ragdoll, screaming in pain as he couldn't even clutch his wounded chest. Crimson drenched his clothes, slowly spreading like a fatal cancer, the violent stigma of death's grasp.

It wasn't long before blood streamed out of his mouth and he started choking on it, coughing desperately and spitting out clotted, bloody mouthfulls of foam. One of the sides of the halberd had probably sliced right through his lungs.

"e-Eurghh...!"

"Ah fuck, that's nasty. Don't make that disgusting face."

I grimaced while looking at our senior's blood-stained face, which now dripped with tears as the pain and fear of dying set in. Contrary to me, Bertrand looked unbothered by the development as he sighed and activated Foresight, frowning slightly.

He complained about headaches whenever he used it twice in a row, so I knew he'd be cranky for a while.

While it was strong, the mental load of using it was pretty high.

"Just go and kill it already."

"Sure. I'm dying to test out the new Skill I got at the Star Market."

"Why didn't you test it on the last one?"

"I wanted to relieve some stress first, man."

"..."

"What? I like trashing things slowly when I'm feeling burdened."

"...Don't say any more."

As I advanced, I could see that Bertrand had a look on his face that said something along the lines of — "You're crazy."

We repeated the same thing as before when the monster attempted to wail, and then I rushed in to take out its arms and legs to leave it completely defenseless. It wasn't long just before it stood in the same position as the other one.

It fought a bit more and nicked my arm to claim a few drops of life force, but still. After it was on the floor without any members left to defend itself, I delightedly stomped hard on its chest with a triumphant look and raised my longsword high.

"Haha, look at this weak fucker. It can't even fight back."

"&-A$gle@h..."

"Ah, you're still there."

As I bragged, a weak groan of pain caught my attention from the side.

On the left, Albert was lying in a pool of his own blood with a pale complexion. He panted for breath as more scarlet kept leaking out from his throat and his eyes got hazy, but none of us came to help him. Then, I got an itchy feeling when I looked at Bertrand.

He had a really opportunistic gaze like he was looking at prey he'd caught.

"A&h#h..."

Oh, he was doing something.

With a pull of the rifle's trigger – pressed closely against his head – a bullet blew through him in an explosion of pink-ish grey brain matter, accompanied by clear white bone shards clattering against the floor and a blown eyeball melting out of his socket.

"Hey! Didn't you say he was going to be our bait?"

"I did, and he accomplished his goal perfectly. He didn't have any use anymore."

"Really now...?"

My face warped with a suspicious expression, and I opened my mouth with contempt dripping from my tongue.

"Hah, you shameless fucker, don't you dare lie to me."

"Well, I mean, even though he was really weak, he still helped me level-up to 25."

"So that was the actual reason, you bastard!"

As I argued with Bertrand, none of us managed to catch the large shadow hopping out from behind a car close to us. Before both of us knew it something huge had gotten close, and a pair of frosty silver eyes looked down upon us with no discernible emotions.