A group of about thirty players was currently running for their lives. Having massively underestimated the target of their quest. The party had originally been a raid party of about a hundred players.
Now, thirty were left, and still dropping.
Their task had been to eliminate one of the nearby orc encampments. Sadly for them, the information on the quest had been wrong. This wasn't anything new... for those who had been in the kingdom for a while.
But they had only arrived a few days ago; all the previous quests they had taken had been perfectly aligned with the information surrounding them.
Unlike what the quest had said, it wasn't a weak tribe at all. Sure, none of the orcs was too high Tier, but there was a Shaman and Chieftain.
They had expected some discrepancy; they had read about it. But they hadn't expected this.
The shaman had summoned a barrier to cancel out their magic as soon as the battle started, and the chieftain had protected it.
Its sturdy body took arrows and spells like they were nothing, hardly piercing its tough skin when they didn't bounce off its armor. And it crushed anyone who approached it with its massive war-axe.
These survivors were now cursing their bad luck. But more than that, it was their lack of caution that had caused them to fall into this situation. As was the lot for newbies. They had to learn by paying the appropriate cost.
Sure, these players were all Tier 4 or 5, but they weren't used to the situation on the front lines. They were part of the new arrivals from the empire, the Second Wave, as the other players had come to call them.
They were some late bloomers and players who hadn't wanted to commit to a single kingdom previously. They came this time since the empire had promised to pay for their teleportation costs here and back.
There were some rules around it, but even if they couldn't finish their assigned quest, they could return to the empire. Which had effectively become their homes.
With that fact alleviating their worries, many more had decided to join this time around as reinforcements. Hoping for glory.
Taurus, of course, wasn't the only kingdom receiving reinforcements. Though, this time around, the empire was concentrating its forces into a select few kingdoms. Kingdoms that were to act as the base of operations for the offensive they were planning.
"How are they so fast?!" One of the players shouted, a girl with light green patterns on her darker green skin. She was a dryad, and her preferred weapon was a bow. However, she couldn't find the time to take aim. The orcs were right on their heels.
She hadn't even had time to store her bow away—too much in shock at how fast things had gone south.
Other than the chieftain, the camp had been filled with orc Warriors. Not your standard orc. And most of them were elite, on top of that.
Each one was stronger, faster, and more experienced than the standard orc. And the group was learning just how fearsome orcs could be. Their resilience was something truly dangerous if underestimated.
They were learning, as more of them died while running—that these orcs could not, and should not, be compared to those that could be found in the empire's borders. Those orcs were almost like domesticated animals.
They lived, but only because the empire had deemed their lives useful for training the next generation of soldiers and adventurers. Their numbers were often culled, and they were never allowed to evolve.
They existed only to give the newbies some experience in fighting. They were not meant to be the final step in training, but rather one rather near the first. Just after learning how to wield your weapon properly.
This group had thought that had been the final step in their training. They had thought themselves prepared. And they were now paying the price.
"Argh!" A shout right next to her caused the girl to miss her step. Causing her to stumble on the uneven ground. She managed to stay standing, but she was slowed enough for a spear to reach her.
She gritted her teeth as the pain of the blow flew through her mind. Sure, the pain was scaled down, but she didn't like injections. And this felt like a massive injection the size of, well... a spear.
No one stopped to help her. She would revive in half an hour; why would they?
However, before she could die, the orc—who had pulled its spear back to finish her—suddenly fell to the ground. An arrow piercing its skull.
Her savior was a ranger, but not just any random ranger. She knew him. At least she knew of him. She had seen him fight in the first tournament.
Though he and the others from their guild hadn't participated in the second. They were still rather famous as one of the highest leveled guilds in the entire game. They had recently even reached level 6. Making them, in fact, the highest level guild in the entire game.
"You alright?" Her savior asked, firing arrow after arrow. Seemingly quite relaxed and casual about the situation. Something which her mind struggled to comprehend.
Unlike when she had used her bow, his arrows didn't just injure the orcs. They outright killed most. Even when the orcs dodged, the arrows followed their movements. As if guided by a string.
She knew he was using the skill Guiding Arrow, but using it so easily was impressive. She could fire five arrows with the skill active at most. Three when in actual combat.
"I-I'll be fine." She said, summoning a potion and downing it. The pain faded, though her shoulder still burned and ached.
The potion would stop her bleeding and recover her HP, but the wound needed some more tending to. Ideally, a healer. Though a salve and more potions would do, too.
Sadly, their group had no healers left. Healers were typically slow, and the orcs had targeted them right at the start of the fight. Ignoring even the mages as they rushed past the fighters to get at them.
Their sheer determination to bring down the healers had been shocking.
"You're group is in a bad state. You part of the Second Wave?" Zyviss asked.
Unlike the First Wave, which had numbered just a few thousand, this time's reinforcements numbered about twenty thousand. Taurus finally had a decently sized number of undying soldiers—just shy of thirty thousand. Sadly, the majority were like this. But they had about 5k veteran players now.
"Ye-yeah, I guess." She replied, turning to look at the terrifying orcs. Shocked to find that they were all dead. An arrow having claimed their lives, or a massive greatsword. Many were even cut in half. The sight was surreal and stomach-churning.
"She doing fine?" A woman called out.
Her attire was, to be curt, risque. She wore bikini armor. Really, it could hardly be called armor. It looked more like metallic swimwear. The only real armor on her body was that on her arms and legs. All painted red in blood.
"Yeah, trying to figure out how they ended up like this," Zyviss replied, looking at Judith and then back at the dryad player. Shrugging, he said, "She's cosplaying as a barbarian."
Nodding, though still shocked that she could walk around like that, the girl asked how they knew that they needed help.
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