Excuse the late release, I came back later than I expected.

Having said this, enjoy the chapter. You guys are awesome. :mrgreen:

*

"Wait, are they releasing another game update?"

"That's so awesome!! I'm really looking forward to this patch. Things are definitely going to be changing around here with this."

"Dammit... I just upgraded my equipment though. And they actually bothered to release a new tier of equipment?"

"It's fine, your gear will still be able to sell for really high anyway."

"That means that the new gear would be really expensive, right?"

"That just means we have to turn up the burner on the midnight oil, right?"

"That's right. With a bit of effort and farming, we should be able to cobble together enough money to get it."

"I don't know man, I don't think I want to go through that kind of hell again."

"What's a 15 hour gaming marathon between friends? You are our best fighter, come on!!"

"Look, this kind of upgrade is pretty worth it. It might give us the firepower we need to take on that boss."

"Yeah, that boss... The one that no one had been able to solo yet?"

"I was fine with taking it on as a party member, though."

"It's all about the sense of accomplishment, accomplishment!! You, my friend, are definitely thinking too low."

"Then it defeats the purpose of playing an MMORPG in the first place, right? If I wanted to be a solo player, I would have played something else right?"

"All games still have multi-player components in them. It is part of what they are. I could even force you to compete or cooperate with me if we are playing something like Puzzle Alley Brawl*."

"But some games are more solo-play then others."

"Why are we suddenly talking about other games? It's that one that we are particular interested in, right?"

"Well then, forgive me for being blunt here, but I'm having doubts about this..."

"It's just a matter of principle here. You have put in so much time and effort; you wouldn't want to get left behind by the rest right? Becoming stagnant and content with what we have is a bad thing, remember that!! What was our gaming motto and goal again?"

"Become the strongest, become number one."

"Exactly!! We have been competing for this since day 1. We currently rank among the top 45 among millions of players, and are currently pulling our way up. And you are saying that you are willing to drop all this because you don't want to put in the effort to do so?"

"No, I didn't mean tha-"

"Goddammit, man, we shouldn't be arguing about this. It's a foregone conclusion. For the sake of glory, we advance forth!!"

"… Bro, sorry for suddenly wavering. Let’s do this."

"Ha ha ha, that's fine. Let us push our way to the top."

**

"It wasn't meant to be this way..."

That thought was on the mind of a bandit as he ran, nearly falling as he tripped on a tree root, and only managed to catch himself before the last second; staggering as he clumsily regained his balance.

It was simple and straightforward. With strength of numbers, overwhelm and rob passing wagons on their way to the nearby villages. The supplies and other miscellaneous items would be sent to the punitive force, where it would lower the cost of the expedition. A good haul from one of these wagons would easily mean enough food and drink, especially beer, to last the whole week.

After a few days, 3 levels per bandit and around 100 gold worth of booty, they came across a pair of adventurers that were travelling on that same path. Adventurers are often rich pickings since they collect so much treasure and supplies, and it was surely an easy win with that many people right? That was the first mistake that the gang of bandits had made.

The second mistake was to try heckling the pair. In response, the first of the two, a knight clad in steel plate armor with ornate markings, suddenly slammed his spear shaft first on to the floor. A loud crash echoed into the distance, and a thick fog quickly gathered.

Before they could respond, a troop of soldiers suddenly appeared out of thin air, and sprang onto the stunned group, screaming bloody murder and brandishing swords, maces and axes.

And suddenly, what was supposed to be a one-sided battle where they get to toy with a bunch of adventurers, conceited self-centered bastards that they are, was suddenly turned into a bloody melee where they had to fight for their lives.

And that wasn't the worst part. The second adventurer turned out to be equally dangerous, especially after he divested himself of his immense baggage, and took out a big stick.

And normally a big stick was meant to be laughed at, right? That was the third mistake.

In fact, that big stick was being spun around like some parade routine and smashing down on heads like the Wrath of God. Goddammit, that stick, it hurt.

It hurt so bad that it brought back memories of his childhood, where his mam would take a birch branch and take him to task for his misdeeds, that formidable weapon falling upon his behind. He would run from his mam, who would hold up the branch like judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one, about to land painful judgement upon the sinner.

Much like what he is doing now.

He was fortunate. Most of his comrades were knocked out and unconscious, with a few dead just because the soldiers got over-eager and used too much force. Then again, most of them should be dead now. And he got out, mostly unscathed, but with a throbbing bruise that he will probably remember for quite a while.

And now if he could just put a few... no, a hundred... probably a thousand metres between him and that big stick... He could probably get out of this alive.

And then he stumbled again, tripping on a pebble.

Of course, at this point of time, it was easy to just dismiss the bandit as a dead man and express sympathy for someone else. Like that pebble.

It was a mere coincidence, but that pebble just happened to roll along, minding its own business, when it was most unceremoniously stepped upon by a most uncouth human male.

It was a good thing that karma smiled upon the pebble and it was able to exact a most vicious revenge by causing the terrible person to lose his footing, at least momentarily.

And then a small and blunt force struck that bloody bastard hard on the back, causing him to fly forward several inches and land heavily on his face. His pebble comrades must be joining him to unleash terrible justice upon that horrible man...

No wait. A pebble can't be long and made of wood, right?

***

"At least come back, I need someone to help me with that heavy load!!"

I was chasing down a man who thought it was funny to gang up on us with his posse. Still, I admit to initially thinking they wanted to help me with my luggage. Tante didn't take too kindly them, and unleashed her troops upon the group.

Damn that witch. She seemed intent on making sure that I bear the entire burden of that enormous load. While I was thinking that rather uncharitable thought, the soldiers were making mincemeat out of them... Wait, where in the world did they spring out from?

Either way, according to Tante after the fight, it was one of the Flag Bearer's activated traits: Spectral Banner.

Spectral Banner

Summons a troop of spirit soldiers that move under the Flag Bearer's banner. The strength and cohesiveness of the troop increases as the Flag Bearer grows in strength, and the ability of the troops becomes more diverse in the process.

As of now, she is limited to summoning a group of rag-tag and disobedient troopers due to her low leadership stat and inexperience, but her skills and other abilities are able to bring out the best from the group. And then they went insane and beat fifteen kinds of crap out of the bandits.

Either way, now I am in this situation, and I have taken advantage of his momentary lapse to nail him with an attack, spear shaft thrusting forward to the maximum attacking and catching him on the back. It took the rest of his hit points and he collapsed from the force of the blow, falling face down onto the floor, disappearing in a grey flash and leaving behind some coins and a knife. Crap, there goes my potential personal porter.

Well, that settles it. I picked up the loot. The knife was of terrible quality, but I could do with a new camping knife, having lost the last one back at the Kobold Raid Dungeon. Small compensation for the potential weight off my back anyway. I wonder why I suddenly went from one load to another. At least cooking and hunting alongside the kid wasn't too bad.

Either way, it seemed like my troubles would soon be over, at least temporarily.

We have arrived at the camp where the punitive force resided.

****

Due to the effects of the mushroom, you have temporarily shrunk down to the size of a mouse. Your stats have decreased to a tenth of their values, but your evasiveness and speed are exponentially increased when fighting against much larger opponents. To make up for the loss in stats, your equipment has also shrunk with you, and the equipment requirements have fallen by 10%

You have learnt a new skill: Explosive Power: Due to the excess vitality within a small package, you may increase your stats tenfold. Improved Skill Proficiency increases the duration of this buff.

"Ah, so that's what happened." The child noted this as he looked at the message window. He settled down on a comfortable spot within the grass and looked at the satiety bar, which had filled up to the maximum.

"At least that mushroom filled up my stomach. Being small has its advantages indeed."

He took a look around, but at his current size, he wasn't able to find out much about his new environment.

"Woah... Everything's so big... Maybe I should get to higher ground."

The child climbed onto a shrub, which was almost like climbing a tree in his current state, his booted feet finding easy purchase among the wooden stems and branches of the plant.

"Hup... Now where the heck am I?"

The child looked into the distance, but the heavily wooded environment with its extremely verdant and lush growth meant that he couldn't see much either.

"At this rate, it seems that I'm stuck like this for a while. Might as well make the best of it..."

At this point, he brightened up, eyes shining as the thoughts of endless possibilities dawned upon him. He unsheathed the long sword that was slung around his sword, and swung it around, striking a pose as a brand new adventure awaits him.

****

"Ho ho ho. This world is really well crafted."

Alf happily walked along the lush green fields that covered the outskirts of the city, where the players frolic and play (with murderous intent) alongside the cute and adorable (and also equally murderous) animals that dwell there. He had nothing on him save for the clothes on his back and the backpack with nothing more than 10 pieces of stale rye bread and a canteen of water. His shabby appearance did not draw attention from the other players, although his lack of a weapon was a glaring detail.

"Perhaps I shall partake in those... battles in-game. This will probably be the first proper fight I had in ages." Alf muttered to himself as he stretched and prepared himself for battle, his well-toned physique showing incredible flexibility as he did. All the while, he sought out potential prey to kill.

He saw rabbits as beneath him, since they were small and fluffy and cute (the other new players will cry when they hear that, you know?). Foxes fare slightly better, but he ignored those as well. Instead, he had in his eyes a wolf, grey and silvery fur easily seen in the distance, a sleek and lithe body with muscular legs and a powerful jaw.

The wolf noticed a killing intent in the distance and snarled, hackles raised as it saw in the distance not just a young man in shabby clothes, but a potential threat, from the way he carried himself, an easy and relaxed attitude, safe in the belief in his own abilities.

It was one thing to be fearful of a feral glare of a stronger predator, yet somehow, in its own way, a relaxed and self-assured gaze is far more terrifying.

Animal instinct tends to be rather uncanny in that regard.

And yet, at the same time from the eyes of another player, that reckless challenge by Alf would be seen as nothing more than pointless suicide. A wolf can easily deal 60-80 damage to most newbies at higher levels, even those who invested heavily in defense. Alf, who was currently level 1 with only a 100 hit points and nearly no defensive rating whatsoever, would be easily killed in a single hit if a clean hit lands.

The wolf, as though realizing its easy victory if it goes for a preemptive strike, pounced at Alf, jaws raised to go for the man's jugular. Alf looked like he was caught off guard, as he didn't had time to take on a stance. However, he was not entirely defenseless. In fact, he seemed incredibly relaxed as though he was expecting it, a serene look on his face. And he, as if it were a matter of course, countered accordingly.

Alf slammed a meaty palm onto the wolf's throat, a true iron wall as he stood his ground against the charge, feet braced sturdily against the ground. Like waves hitting a seaside cliff, the wolf's attack broke upon coming into contact with him, the damage dealt to him increased drastically by the momentum of its own attack. The wolf fell back, too winded to even make a counter-attack.

One of the most important essentials in martial arts is the ability to relax your body, even in the face of impending death. Relaxation is a deceptive portion in a fight, as being unable to relax messes with your body control, causing your movements to be easily read. Moreover, the speed and power of your attacks is dependent on the size of the muscles between its relaxed and strained states. If you are strained from the very start, the power of your attacks is drastically reduced as there is less room for your muscles to "explode".

At this point, Alf had felt no real danger at being charged at by the wolf, and was hence able to relax, allowing him to suddenly unleash a move of immense power and speed.

Making use of the created opportunity, Alf went on the offensive, beating on the wolf with little else but his fists and legs, bashing relentlessly with palm strikes, occasionally stomping on it. Against the onslaught of attacks, the wolf could do nothing but quiver as its body was slowly beaten to a bloody pulp. At level one, Alf had only 3 Attack rating, but he targeted critical spots on the body with powerful martial arts techniques, which increased the damage dealt. The wolf's good defenses and high hit points for its level only prolonged its suffering.

It was definitely animal abuse at this point. Young Players are advised not to see the above portion. But I suppose that warning was a little too late, huh?

Heavily beaten, bleeding and bruised, the wolf shuddered as the final blow was dealt and died, fading into a grey flash. You could have sworn that the wolf shed tears of joy as it disappeared.

]Due to a defeat of a much stronger opponent, the experience gained from killing the mob has drastically increased.

[You have gained a level and grown to level 2.]

A pelt, some wolf flesh and some coins were dropped.

"It takes some getting used to this virtual body. I wonder if they purposely weakened me because I'm so awesome." Alf happily said this to himself as he picked up the loot.

At level one, his stats were naturally weak, and his body currently reflects this. However, Royal Road does take reference to the real-life body when it was being created and the stats were allocated to reflect that.

Alf had no way of knowing this at the moment, but his current stats were actually much higher than the average at his current level. Regardless, he opened up his skill window and added points to Strength.

Deed done, Alf, a level 2 undecided newcomer, cast out over the fields for more opponents to fight.

*****

The camp that currently held and supported the punitive force was little more than a large field with a large number of tents cobbled together. Players mingled among themselves, but more often than not, some players preferred to keep to themselves or stick to their own cliques.

And as with most gatherings, some of the more enterprising are already offering the goods and services they have brought with them.

"Herbs, spice, all other things nice. Up for grabs, here at McHeist!!"

"Hot Crossed Bunnies, Hot Crossed Bunnies. One two silvers, two four silvers, Hot Crossed Bunnies!!"

"Come to me if you wish to repair your equipment. It wouldn't do if they fall apart halfway during a fight, right?"

"Charge down your opponents on the battlefield with one of these bad boys!! Each of them has been crafted with a caring touch by a skilled smith!!"

And for some reason, the advertisements they are yelling seemed to have become more creative.

In the middle, a line was formed in front of a rudimentary desk, where a man wearing red robes and a pointy hat was seated and taking applications, his staff standing by his side and braced against a large oak tree which served as shelter from the sweltering sunlight and heat. Judging by his clothing and equipment, he was definitely a Fire-oriented Mage.

"I'm a level 55 Warrior and my stat build is focused on defense. I use a double-sided battle axe, and I'm good at drawing aggro with Incite Anger."

"Alright, you are in. You will be posted to the front line defenders."

"I'm a level 67 Monk specializing in Single-Strike skills. I promise to fight hard."

"Hmmm... You might be a bit tricky to fit in... Let me think..."

The Mage paused as he briefly considered the prospective recruit standing in front of him.

"Alright, you are posted to the Skirmish Party. I'll keep you to your promise then."

Judging by the conversation that just occurred in front of me, the punitive force leader definitely knows what he was doing, with each class posted to a respective role according to their abilities. Nevertheless, I wondered if he had room for the likes of me, with that kind of stringent examination.

Naturally, Tante took the lead here.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Level 72 Flag Bearer, accompanied by a level 35 Spear Man. One of my Traits is the Spectral Banner, which summons a troop of spirit soldiers to fight under my command. In addition, I have several support skills that aid greatly on the field. My companion here is inexperienced, but he is willing to fight, and has fought hard. He would be a valuable addition to the force."

I was actually pretty surprised at the glowing reference that Tante gave me. I admit to being touched by the high pedestal she has clearly put me on. The Mage was definitely swayed by her words, and was briefly sent into thought.

"Both pretty unusual classes here, I see. Although, to be honest, I'm not sure what it is spear men actually can do. And the weapon you wield... Might I be able to assume that you are similar to a monk? And levels are actually pretty misleading from past experience... Oh well. Both of you are posted to the vanguard force. You will be in the group leading the charge against the enemy."

As we made our way to our assigned camping site to set up camp... I gulped as I tried to collect the words I wanted to say. I wasn't the kind to thank people, but I at least tried.

"Thanks."

"Why are you thanking me for?" Tante asked, her expression questioning. "What I said is the gospel truth, anyway. As your senior in our respective discipline, it is the natural thing to do, right?"

"But..."

"Have a little confidence in yourself, Howard. You are growing, slowly improving your skills and abilities as a person. Even now each and every little thing you do makes you who you are, even the most mundane things." Tante continued in a calm voice. It sounded really motivating, until I remembered something.

"... you made me carry your baggage. It was heavy." I replied, recalling the torture I was put under in the name of her "Crusade".

"That trains your stamina and strength." Tante didn't even blink as she responded, but her ears were reddening at my retort, meaning that I got under her skin somehow. Why did I even open my big mouth, I wanted to ask myself.

******

"Ahahaha, this is so awesome!!"

The child, currently the size of a mouse, was currently riding on a squirrel which he has somehow tamed, brandishing his long sword as he chased down a swallow. The squirrel moved with easy grace, its paws and limbs easily letting it leap from branch to branch as the child urged it on.

As for how the squirrel was tamed, well, that's another story for another time, but I can tell you that it involved the child jumping up and down on its head.

The swallow was not slacking off either, flying quickly as it glided and flew frantically along the trees, its extreme mobility letting it avoid the squirrel as it danced an elusive dance across the canopy. Rather than fear, the swallow appeared cheerful as it soared joyfully without a care in the world.

Like Tooth before them, the Child has thoroughly made... acquaintances of these two animals, and is currently playing with them. And of course, these new companions are useful in combat at their current sizes. Moreover, due to the increased difficulty in these fights, the experience gained in the fights against usually small animals like rabbits or insects were pretty high, and the child managed to gain a level.

At this point, you could say that he is having the time of his life as he rode the squirrel into the sunset.

*******

Eventually, the war preparation was complete, and each division was given a specific role to perform in battle. Usually in military formations, an army is divided into three portions - The Vanguard, the Main Force, and the Rear Guard. In this situation, the Vanguard was divided into the Skirmish Party and the Vanguard. The main force was arranged to have the mages and priests in the middle, and a defensive wall of warriors on all sides. The Rear Guard consisted of back line defenders, the bombardment party and the support group.

In our case, we were in the Vanguard, and our group is supposed to be the first to engage with the enemy alongside the skirmish party, before retreating and the bombardment party in the main force, which consisted of mages and archers, will step in and unleash rains of arrows and spells down upon the opponent. Basically, we are the group which sets the pace for the fight.

The punitive force was assembled in the middle of the camp, and the leader, a Paladin named Gordon, stepped up to give a speech. Or rather, he was pushed up there by one of his friends, reluctantly taking the stage as he stood there, and coughed awkwardly before he spoke.

"Um... Hi guys. It's nice to see you all here. Thank you all for coming... *ahem*

According to one of the bloody bastards also known as my aides, I'm supposed to come up here and say something that will motivate you lazy buggers into beating the undead and Orcs into a bloody hill of corpses and shattered bones. Yes, Morton, that's what I'm currently doing, quit waving at me like some girl seeing her man off to war or something."

Sniggers could be heard among the audience as the Mage in the red robes bowed his head in embarrassment, his face as red as the robes that he wore. Another Mage that looked incredibly identical to him except for the color scheme, stood there impassively. A little bit of humor helps lighten the mood and creates a relaxing atmosphere. As such, the audience listened to him with rapt attention. In his way, his oratory skills were top-notch.

"Basically, since this is really a game and I don't really care about the NPCs that think otherwise, I would like to wish you lot good hunting. May your pockets fill to the brim with loot, by the blessing of the Japtem God. Now, do me a favor, beat the crap out of the silly buggers playing soldiers so that I can get on with my quest. Thank you."

The speech was incredibly straight to the point and wasted no time with the fancy motivational language. But it related with the players and the intent was clear: This is not a war, it is a hunt. And we are the hunters in search of treasure. As such, there was much cheering and laughing. Spirits were high as the punitive force began to make their way to the Crypt.

**********************************************************************************************************

The captain of the Vanguard was a Warrior wielding a pole arm. He turned to the group that was assembled behind him.

"Alright, lads, just get in there and do your stuff. If things get heated, retreat immediately. We are not directly responsible for your safety; we are fighting for ourselves out there. There will be no blaze of glory from you buggers. Now that this is clear, good hunting to all of you!!"

Within the vicinity of the crypt, the enemy campsite can be seen in the distance. It consisted mostly of large, but poorly built huts and tents that are clearly intended to be the barracks where the Orcs are supposed to reside. The undead are nowhere to be seen, but it was safe to assume that they are in the crypt. A large bonfire can be seen burning from a distance, sending a large amount of smoke into the air and obscuring the vision beyond that portion of the area.

Several orcs were stationed here as guards. It appears that they were still not aware that a large group was about to invade, lolling around and digging into their noses and ears with a bored look on their faces.

"Alright, guys. Guerrilla tactics. Get in there, cause mass mayhem, and get out quickly while they are still napping. Draw them out, and we will run them over and catch them off guard. Skirmish party, get moving. Vanguard, stand by."

With quick and hurried hand motions, the captain of the vanguard group sent in the skirmish party, which consisted of fast and agile DPS classes such monks and rogues. Armed with daggers and other forms of weaponry, several rogues disappeared into thin air while the monks split up into small groups, armed with quarter staves. As one group, the skirmish party moved silently towards the camp site, using the nearby woods and foliage as cover.

It was incredibly silent for a few moments as the skirmish party have not made contact, slowly approaching them. The Orcs did not seem to have noticed them yet.

Suddenly, one of the rogues made her move, suddenly appearing like a ninja and plunging her dagger into the side of one of the Orcs. Roaring in pain, the Orc swatted at the rogue with a muscular arm, but she neatly dodged the blow and counter-attacked with a flurry of stabs. At that point, that attack was the signal for the Skirmish party to make contact. The panicked guards were caught off guard and were milling about, but a guard who managed to keep calm managed to grab a war horn and blew into it, a rough and guttural call that called the ever battle-ready Orcs into the fray.

Like a green flood, the Orcs appeared as a group, yelling and raising rusty glaives and axes. Each Orc was about as tall as a tall human, but incredibly packed with muscle. Their faces were horrendously ugly, and their tusks jutted out from the their bottom jaw. Many of these Orcs sported scars and tribal tattoos. Overall, it wasn't very pleasant to the eye. It was hard to tell what level are these Orcs, but if I were to hazard a guess, they should be about level 50 or higher. They probably numbered at about a thousand, since they covered the ground as far as the eye can see.

The Orcs yelled and stomped their feet in order to intimidate their opponents. A particularly ugly Orc stood above that horrible mass, and voice like a thunderstorm, shouted what appeared to be the Orcish command to charge, pointing his weapon at the skirmish party. To be honest, it sounded more like a animalistic roar than a phrase.

As if a rising tide, the Orcs charged, and the two opposing groups finally made contact.

The rogues, thieves and monks held their own for some time, but they were in danger of being overwhelmed, and was slowly giving ground as they retreated slowly, carefully drawing out the angry group of Orcs as they slashed and stabbed away with daggers and short swords and bashed at their faces and vital parts with their fists and kicks, aggravating and causing the Orcs to become red with rage.

At that point, as planned, the battle slowly proceeded into the empty clearing near the crypt. Unlike the incredibly cramped camp or the woods, there was a great deal of room for us to out-maneuver and flank the Orcish lines, which will put us in a greater advantage. Archers and Mages are also free to cast their spells and arrows at the opponent.

The skirmish party was still faring pretty well against the overwhelming odds presented by the Orcish forces, and at that point, the captain pointed his pole arm forward and gave the order to charge.

And the vanguard moved into battle, brandishing pikes, staves, sticks and spears. The Vanguard mostly consisted of warrior classes armed with such weapons, in order to penetrate deeply into enemy lines and soften them up a little. Several of the vanguard used dash-type skills to move quickly into battle, the increased speed adding to the power of their charges, dealing increased damage to the Orcs.

All around me, it was practically mayhem. Orc and Human clashed, perhaps in yet another battle to prove their supremacy over one another. Blades smashed into one another, humans pitting their skills to see who would come up on top. (Orcs are naturally stupid with lowered Intelligence and Wisdom and thus having few skills, so in this regard there was no contest.)

On the other hand, unlike a street fight, there was perhaps some room for finesse. Having finished off an orc with simplistic attacks, I saw an opening in the skirmish for a technique that I had wanted to try out.

In the middle of the melee, I took my stance, arms holding the spear shaft that I was equipped with like a quarter staff, my feet braced against the ground and presenting the side of my body to the enemy.

1st Stance of the Empty Spear: Balancer. Over time as I practiced and improved my skill with the spear, the stances had changed as well to suit my fighting style. In a way, you could say that the skills grow with me and are eventually becoming a part of me.

An Orc came rushing at me. Armed with a giant but incredibly rusty glaive, the Orc looked to be trying to lop my head off with a vicious two-handed horizontal slash. I avoided the blow and bashed away with the spear shaft, the grip allowing me to fight up close against the Orc, attacking left and right, using short, hooking swings like a quarter staff.

The spear shaft caught the Orc on the sides and chest, and dealt heavy damage as I target vital points like the liver, the Orcish anatomy having an uncanny similarity to that of a human. The Orc staggered back, having lost a lot of hit points from the assault. Taking advantage in the lapse in his defense, I shifted from a right smash into a thrust, hitting the Orc in the chest. The force of the blow took the rest of its hit points away, causing the Orc to disappear in a grey flash.

At that point, from the thrust, I moved into a horizontal swing, using the two handed grip on the end of the spear shaft to swing it in a wide arc. It crashed into several Orcs and caused them to stagger, where they were finished off with decisive blows from the other warriors. Attack complete, I rested the spear against my shoulder in preparation from another attack. It was the 4th Form of the Empty Spear, which focused entirely on offensive might when using slashing or smashing attacks.

From the Balancer Stance, I had managed to shift into the Fencer Stance, followed by the 4th Stance. As a result, I was able to link several attacks together in a combination attack. Just like how I had envisioned during practice.

Somewhere nearby, Tantte was moving gracefully, the flag on her spear gliding as she swung her weapon, a crimson trail which proliferated and left more blood behind it as it spun and twirled, cutting into flesh easily. It was a eye-catching sight that befuddled the senses before taking lives like a bitter mistress. Around her, her spirit soldiers, galvanised by the combat sequence, were rowdily ganging up on several Orcs, smashing and slashing with eager bloodlust with their axes and swords, faces filled with glee as they robbed the lives of those Orcs, and then carefully robbing the Orcs of their possessions, their actions not exactly matching the looks on their faces as they did so.

Over the noise of the battle, I could hear the shouting and yelling from the soldiers of the main force, where most of the knights, soldiers and sword/axe warriors were posted. That was the sign for us to disengage from the Orcish forces, switching with the mostly fresh fighters from the main line, allowing the Vanguard to retreat to the rear, where the priests, mages, archers and the other support classes such as Bards or Dancers were stationed.

While the knights and warriors crashed into the enemy lines, the soldiers approached in a disciplined formation, emphasizing on defensive tactics. Meanwhile, the archers and mages were raining arrows and spells down in covering fire, bombarding the buckling Orcish lines with their spells. At the same time, priests and priestesses cast AOE (Area of Effect) Healing Magic on the Vanguard and Skirmish Party, who managed to suffer only a few casualties.

The vanguard party broke off from the engagement, but not without sending off a few parting gifts. Warriors slashed and smashed at the Orcs a few times to discourage the Orcs from moving into temporarily surrendered ground.

At the same time, the main force moved into that ground, renewing the engagement.

It was all going according to plan, but yet there was something that was nagging at me. Some form of element that the Punitive Force leaders must have missed. Thus far, we had been making short work of the orcs, our tactics managing to overwhelm their superiority of numbers. And then I realized, it was such a large thing that I was shocked that the leaders actually missed this glaring detail.

Where were the undead that were reported to have been with them?

Suddenly, several Orc and human corpses that have fallen in the earlier engagements began to twitch. However, that involuntary movement was not due to the effects of rigor mortis, the process in which the muscles stiffen up. In fact, several dead bodies had managed to stand back up and were starting to attack the retreating vanguard forces.

Such an occurrence was not due to a heavenly miracle, but was the result of something a little more sinister.

Necromancer Magic.

As necromancers, they had the power to raise the dead, and as such were perfect for those kinds of military engagements due to the abundance of fresh corpses around them. On one hand, the undead were weaker than their counterparts that were alive, but on the other, they made up for this with almost limitless stamina and rather unorthodox fighting styles, literally fighting to the last bone.

And those freshly revived corpses were not alone. Skeletons and Zombies suddenly burst out from the ground as well; some of them without limbs or certain body parts, and several of them were armed with equally rusty weapons rivaling those of the orcs, intending to target the weakened Vanguard. Chief among them was a giant skeleton warrior. Clad in rusty but still rather thick and heavy armor, it stood at 4 metres tall and armed with a giant double-sided battle axe.

And in an instant, the enemy numbers swelled, and the orderly engagement so far was soon thrown into bloody chaos.

*******

The elder sat in the distance, stroking his beard and smiling to himself. He appeared to have aged more compared to before, the previously unnoticeable wrinkles on his face more gnarled and pronounced, his hair slowly balding. And yet he continued to smile and watch, nodding thoughtfully to himself as he simply observed.

In the distance, a young man was fighting, his spear shaft flashing in a blur as it moved in wide, but swift

arcs, his skill with the spear steadily improving with each battle.

And yet, the elder noticed something. The young man's strikes, even though it has lost much of its excess movement, even though it got more powerful with each blow, there was... just something wrong with it. His strikes seem well-calculated, but seemed unsure, a slight twitch in the movement as a twinge of hesitation went through his thoughts each time he thinks over his next move.

"The seeds have been planted. Whether or not the boy can make it his, it all depends on him." the elder noted this, and continued to sit there, watching and observing.

*********

Author's Notes:

- Proofread as of 25/05/13, 06:35 hrs UTC +8. Credits to Randomleech for the assist.

Nothing else to say here now, but left as a placeholder, just in case.