A wooden cart careened down a mountainside tundra, rattling loudly and picking up speed as it went. Players, not wanting to be flattened, hurriedly split to the sides to allow it passage; one player who was late to take notice of it let out a girlish yelp before diving out of its path. The cart continued, barrelling faster and faster down the slope, until it abruptly flared with light and disappeared. The emptied space revealed a fair-haired man with intricate white-and-gold armour, who gave off a solemn, regal air as he passed a ring to one of his subordinates.

  “Well, this is assuredly not what I anticipated.”

  Virtus watched the ongoing battle with a deep frown. While it was one thing for the heroes to fail, the manner in which they failed was also significant. As things seemed, not only were they completely thwarted in all attempts to breach the compound, but they even actively infought and sabotaged each other.

  “Indeed. It’s rather... unsightly, isn’t it?” The castellan, Stewart, commented beside him. “Even the common peasantry fights better than this.”

  Virtus sighed. “They just need training is all... they also needed more siege ladders than the amount you provided – this scene is comparable to livestock lining up for culling.”

  “...You’re right, I apologise for that oversight.”

  “No matter. There is a silver lining, which is that a large proportion of the heroes seem to have magical affinity. Although they won’t be very powerful now, they should be quite fearsome after becoming fully-fledged mages, especially in those sorts of numbers.”

  “That is true. Though, in contrast, there seem to be very few archers on the field; I see scarcely any arrows flying from our side.”

  “Yes, I did notice that. However, the arrows from our principal archer are actually not visible to the naked eye.”

  “...Pardon? Not visible, you say? There was someone like that?”

  “Ah, right, I didn’t introduce you. I’m referring to the grassy-haired man who was speaking to our good friend Lemonade a few minutes ago. Er, rather, the one wearing a ‘western hat’ might serve as a better descriptor.” Virtus gestured to Lemonade, who was listening from the side.

  ‘Grassy-haired?’ Lemonade recalled Max’s short, somewhat-neat hair. ‘What does grassy hair even mean: is it soft, or is it spiky?’

  One sharp viewer took notice of Lemonade’s confused expression.

  —Does Lemon not know what grassy hair is because he’s bald?

  “Interesting... Then I shall look forward to witnessing this archery.” Stewart rubbed the air under his beard in thought.

  ‘What is he doing?’ Lemonade watched this peculiar action of Stewart’s, and his confused expression intensified. ‘Actually, come to think of it...’

  “Uh, pardon me for interrupting...” Lemonade addressed the two men formally. “Both of you gentlemen plan to partake in the battle, yes? If so, do you have helmets to go with your armour? It’s just that I worry for your safety.”

  Neither Virtus nor Stewart wore helmets. While this would be an understandable decision for comfort outside of combat, the NPCs looked as though they would march on the compound at any moment.

  “Oh, well you see... we are wearing helmets.” Virtus tapped in front of his face.

  Clink. A metal sound rang out.

  “Eh?” For the third time in a ten second interval, Lemonade’s face was laced with question marks.

  Virtus explained, “High-ranking officers typically wear helmets with ‘invisibility’ enchantments. That way we can command more effectively by maintaining visibility, identifiability, and capability to foil assassination attempts like you witnessed earlier. This is somewhat of a secret among the military though, so I would ask that you don’t go yelling it over the hilltops.”

  “I see...!”

  Lemonade quickly pulled up his stream tab and ran a 30-second ad, inwardly praising his decision to use a slight stream delay.

  [Current Viewers: 47,876]

  —Ah no! Noo!!

  —Father, I’m blind

  —Whyyyy

  —Nonconsensual ad; am pressing charges

  ‘Phew.’ Lemonade was relieved. There was no reason to lose the prince’s trust the same day they met.

  Looking away from his chat, he went back to watching the assault on the orcs. From the looks of things, the melee players were completely useless, being skewered by long polearms whenever they tried to climb over the compound’s defensive palisade. While the mage and archer players were more useful, lobbing spells and arrows up at the defenders, they were also unable to inflict substantial damage. This being the case, although the number of defenders on the wall seemed to be steadily decreasing, the players were dropping much faster.

  “Hm...” Stewart observed the battlefield. “The morale of the heroes is quickly falling. We should move in immediately.”

  “I agree. Go and give the command; I will stay with the battering ram as we discussed.”

  “Yes.”

  ...

  Pew! Pew! Pew!

  On the distant wall, orc archers were being blown away every time they revealed themselves.

  “Oh!” Max realised something. “Did you guys notice the bowstring has been phasing through my hat this whole time? Haha, that’s a really funny bug.”

  —THE HAT IS NOT WHATS IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW

  —CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY

  —This is hacks, right?

  —No, but why does it feel like the knockback is increasing with each shot?

  —I think he’s killed over a hundred now??

  —ASSAULT RIFLE MODE ACTIVATED

  —I think this is aim hacks...

  —Dude stop, the devs are gonna cry

  “The devs are not going to cry, they’re grown adults. And no, I’m not hacking, this is just a really strong class now.”

  —H–he’s reading chat?!

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  —HES STILL READING THE COMMENTS WHILE FIGHTING

  —WTF

  “Hm?” Hearing a faint chorus of clattering metal, Max glanced over his shoulder and saw that the NPC army was moving in. “Gh, damn. So much for the ‘no NPC deaths’ milestone.”

  A large number of melee players were retreating from the battlefield. Max attempted to call out to a passing group, “Hey! Use the log there as a ram!” He gestured to the displaced battering ram, which sat unused in the grass after its wagon had been destroyed. “You can carry it and ram the gate!”

  No one stopped. One swordsman, drinking a HP potion, shot him a glance but kept moving. Another shifted course in an attempt to steal his hat, only to be sent flying by a well-placed fist.

  “Unbelievable,” Max shook his wrist and muttered, “these players are hopeless.”

  With a resigned sigh, he turned back to the wall, drawing his bowstring as another head peeked over the battlements. If the players weren’t going to break through, he’d just pick off the defenders to lessen the load on the NPCs.

  Quickly running out of arrows, he used his [Arrow Retrieval] skill, and a storm of translucent arrows came streaming toward him in a wide cone, directly entering his inventory.

  “Only a hundred back... the rest must’ve broken, damn.”

  Max transferred the arrows into his ring and waited a few seconds, watching the palisade cautiously.

  “...Nope. As expected, even a hundred converging arrows can’t draw their attention.”

  Orcs were really stupid.

  ‘...’ Max heard an armoured person approaching him from behind. Players wouldn’t be able to afford heavy armour at this stage in the game, so he addressed them without turning around, “Howdy. Still planning to storm the gate?”

  “Yes,” Virtus responded. “We’re moving the second ram now. I must say, I’ve been watching your archery and while I’m not well-informed on the subject, I can tell you’re a highly skilled expert; that bow is surely not wasted on you.”

  Max’s eyebrows raised as he turned and smiled. “Thank you, sir, that really means a lot to me.”

  “Stop addressing me formally, I dislike honorifics.”

  “Ah, sorry. I wasn’t trying to be formal, it just felt right to address you as my commanding officer.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose I am your commanding officer currently... Anyways, we’re approaching the gate so provide us with suppressive fire if you’re able.”

  “Certainly.”

  Max followed Virtus and cast his eyes over the NPC army. At a glance, it was obvious they were well-equipped and well-organised. The vast majority of them wore partial plate with red gambeson poking out from underneath, while lines of pikemen at the vanguard also carried rectangular, semi-cylindrical shields which offered substantial protection from arrow fire. Max was very impressed. The soldiers looked intimidating enough that the retreating players didn’t dare to pass through them, instead fanning out to the sides to pass them at the flanks.

  Continuing the assault, a second battering ram was being pushed up to the fortress, heavily guarded by infantry and a bald man who trailed behind it.

  “Gun!” Lemonade called to Max. “How many orcs have you killed; over a dozen?”

  “One hundred, eighty-seven.” Max succinctly replied.

  “Haha, it wouldn’t be surprising from you.”

  “...?”

  Max felt like something had been misunderstood, but Virtus asked some questions before he could clarify, “Gun, by your estimation, how many archers do they have left? Also, how accurate are they and have you seen their leadership?”

  “It’s hard to say, but about ninety archers remain on the wall. Half their shots are accurate at twenty metres and ninety percent at the foot of the palisade. I’ve seen a tall leader with a black mask who is likely a high orc, but there might be more leaders who have yet to make an appearance.”

  Lemonade’s eyes widened at the unexpectedly detailed response.

  “Good. Thanks for the intel.”

  Max paused to shoot an orc before responding, “My pleasure. Though, I assume you saw what happened to the first battering ram earlier. Do you have a plan for if they come barging out again?”

  “Yes, we have an earth mage on standby to block their retreat if they do so. The soldiers with us now are elites who should have little problem facing the orc warriors, the only problem is the-”

  “The what, sir?” Max loosed another arrow.

  “You said there were ninety archers, correct? Yet, we have advanced quite close to the wall without receiving any ranged attacks. This is rather peculiar.”

  Max also found this odd. The orcs were practically hiding themselves behind the palisade and were only shooting players who climbed up the siege ladders. It was as though they didn’t even perceive the battering ram as a threat. That, or they were afraid of something.

  ‘I don’t see anything they would be afraid of, so it’s probably a trap.’

  A head peeked over the palisade and was immediately blown apart by an arrow. Max really enjoyed this [Successive Speed] skill he’d acquired; it was immensely fun. His arrows were now in the same speed range as assault rifle rounds, so he could play a game of high-stakes whack-a-mole with the orc defenders.

  “It is strange.” Max tapped his fingers on the limbs of his bow. “Would you like me to go up and scout? It could be a trap.”

  Virtus thought for a moment. “I suppose that would be prudent, yes. Go and check. I will compensate you if you happen to die.”

  ‘That’s a really strange thing to say.’ Max nodded and approached the palisade. ‘Now let’s see... If I just blatantly peek over the stakes, they’ll spot me. I might need to use my ultimate.’

  Max grabbed an abandoned siege ladder. There were only a few hundred players still attacking the palisade, which was quite shocking because they’d started the battle with four or five thousand.

  Several metres along the wall from the gate, Max quietly propped the ladder against the palisade and began climbing up with his hands free – that way he could still shoot if an orc spotted him.

  As he neared the top of the ladder, a loud voice bellowed out.

  “Idiots, why did you stop firing? Shoot the shieldless ones!”

  “Captain! Our men be afraid, we think the humans use high-power magic weapon!”

  “I don’t care! I didn’t train a bunch of pansies, so don’t fight like pansies!”

  Max peeked through the gaps in the spiked top of the palisade, surveying the scene behind. The battlements were made of wood and looked to be quite flimsy – probably built as a rushed job. Numerous orcs were crouched in wait, ready to slice and dice any players who tried to climb over the wall. There were also a number of lit braziers, presumably used to provide lighting for the night which had just passed.

  ‘Wait, why are they using fire braziers for lighting on a wooden wall, are they stu- oh.’

  Yes. Yes they were stupid. Regardless, he decided to keep listening in for information.

  “Pathetic. Anyways, are the humans within range yet?”

  “Nearly, captain. But how many should we throw?”

  “Ha! Good, do four. Four sticks bombs should be enough to destroy their poking toy, and them along with it.”

  ‘Stick bombs?’ That sounded important, so Max decided to unleash his ultimate ability here.

  Swish!

  A rock went flying over the battlements, captivating the eyes of all orcs that saw the incredible display. Max quickly raised his head and peeked over the palisade.

  Above the gate, a group of orcs surrounded the leader who wore a black metal mask, each of them carrying a device in the shape of a long red cylinder with a cord on one end.

  ‘Dynamite? They have dynamite here?!’

  Max’s thoughts were abruptly cut short upon realising the masked orc had detected him. ‘...Uh-oh.’

  “Y-you! IT’S YOU!!”

  Swiftly drawing an arrow, Max loosed a shot at the orc’s eye. Unfortunately, the orc moved its body just enough for the arrow to miss the eye slit in its mask, instead striking above and leaving a wide crack where the eyebrow would be.

  Briefly sent sliding, the orc recovered and broke into a sprint, full of rage. Max became alarmed as the orc reached him unexpectedly fast.

  “YOU BASTARD!! I’LL GET MY R– URGH!”

  With a flash from his ring, Max took four more arrows between his fingers and, somehow managing to nock all of them, fired a vertical burst at the orc. Struck by the entire quartet, the orc’s mask broke off as he was knocked off his feet and sent falling over the edge of the battlements.

  “Q-quick! The captain is down! Light the stick bombs!”

  Max wanted to finish off the leader but was forced to turn his attention to the subordinates, who planned to throw dynamite at the battering ram. Despite him quickly shooting a few, one managed to light a stick of dynamite using a nearby brazier.

  “Oh boy.”

  ...

  BOOM!!!

  Virtus watched as the compound’s gate, along with a large section of wall, was blown open by a large explosion. Soldiers raised their shields to block the debris which flew dozens of metres away.

  “Wow, it really was a trap... That archer is truly useful to have around.”

  Abandoning the battering ram, Virtus ignored the smoke and flames as he treaded over the splintered wood to enter the compound, cracking his knuckles as he went.

  “Well, now it’s my turn to have some fun.”