“Ugh…” When William opened his eyes, he failed to recognize his surroundings. “What the hell happened…!”

An explosion happened, he would come to realize, sending everything and everyone waywards. He remembered a commotion at the very front—screams if his memory served him correct—and then…darkness? Yes, he remembered a dark purple-black explosion, the players around him flying, and nothing else.

Nothing else even though there was something else. He was forgetting something crucial and he didn’t know it.

Getting up, head to his temple, William groaned and peered at his surroundings. “Where am I…?” His vision was slightly blurred, though he was able to make out the sand underneath his feet.

He promptly froze when he heard a whir in the air. He looked up and saw a sky full of flaming arrows, as though the clouds themselves had decided to punish him.

‘Oh, no. Equip!’

His axe summoned in his hand and he yelled, “Whirlwind Strike!” The wind of his axe made an arc that protected him for the many arrows coming at him. Hundreds, if not thousands of arrows dropped into the sand, and William wasn’t sure how he would follow up.

There were ships. Hundreds of them. The Orkney Vikings and Otherworlders were coming. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ He glanced up and saw another rain of arrows.

As an arrow penetrated the shoulder of his thick, tattered tunic, William understood where he was: Clontarf East, a shore of Dublin Bay. It wasn’t just him either. Hundreds of soldiers had been displaced, yelling as they fought back against the arrows. At the corner of his eye, he saw Max and those other Templars, Boyan, Finley, and Harrison. Everybody was fighting in confusion. Everybody didn’t understand how they got here.

‘Shit, shit, shit! This is bad! So bad! Unh!’ Another flaming arrow hit his shoulder. ‘What the hell happened!? One minute, we were waiting for the front gates to break and now we're in Dublin Bay!? How!? It shouldn't be possible!’

The Templars were largely fine due to their armor. Max had explained that the Templar uniform was B-ranked and improved every stat and provided resistance to projectiles. On top of that, many had shields in their left hand slot. All they needed to say was, “Equip,” and they had it. In this battle against a rain of arrows, the Templars held a distinct advantage over an independent player like him. The Holy Knights as well, though evidently they fought with one foot back.

William waited for the next barrage of arrows, his eyes sometimes flickering to the oncoming ships. ‘This is bad. This is so bad!’

One arrow to the head and he was dead. ‘Why the hell didn’t I wear a helmet?’

“Whirlwind Strike! Whirlwind Strike! Whirlwind Strike!”

He had no choice but to spam his wind attack and hope for the best. Equipped with an axe, a weapon design for offense, he failed to bat away two more arrows. Wincing, he gathered up a breath and prepared for the fifth rain of arrows.

It didn’t come. Instead, a large ka-bloom echoed and a trail of black smoke went up into the sky. Far, far back yet plainly visible.

“Smoke…? What?” William didn’t understand. The ships at the front were still coming.

‘The ambush!’ A grin spread across his face. ‘Kazi, you genius!’

“Run, run, run! We need distance!” Max yelled and beckoned everyone to escape the shoreline. They did. Half a dozen players were too injured to move. William helped one of those injured players along the way, slinging him over his shoulder. He didn’t seem to be a part of any guild. Unlucky.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” William told the injured player. Seventy or so people made their way back. A line was drawn between the sandy beach and the grass hill. The players climbed up without the burden of being sniped.

“My HP is low—”

“Potions, potions!”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Chaos was threatening to break as recovery took precedent. William glanced at his own HP bar. The explosion knocked away a little over half his HP and the arrows had whittled it down further.

‘Open inventory.’ Luckily, his party had bought healing potions. He drank three in a row and watched as his health went back to normal. Each potion had cost 20,000 points. ‘Worth it.’

After dropping the injured player, William jogged up to the Templars who assembled without losing a single member. “Max, what are we doing? What’s the plan?”

At his remark, everyone looked at Max. There were seventy players here versus the hundreds coming to dock and storm through. Max crossed his arms and tilted his head. “The plan…is to keep running back to make distance. We have to rendezvous with everyone else.”

“The Irish soldiers are coming here,” Boyan noted. “So shouldn’t we hold out until then?”

“I still see some guys on the sand,” Harrison said. “We should grab them and run back—”

“No, we’ll die. Simple as that.” Max nudged them towards the opposing direction. “Let’s get going.”

A chill went down William’s spine following the Templar's words. “Huh…? What is that...?” He froze in place as he felt an influx of magical energy nearby. Confusion reflected the faces of the others. “Do you not feel that?” William asked, swallowing thickly. He returned to the top-side of the hill. His heart stopped.

Long pink hair fluttering from high-speeds, tight black pants, an off-shoulder white top, an elaborate sword in hand, and as if telling the world to screw itself, she ran on water. The water splashed her at every step. A player that left behind the ships and her comrades and whatever rational strategy…

“Hello there! My name is Astrid and I’m the newest member of the Yngling noble family!”

…all for the sake of battle. Astrid Yngling was the first to arrive on the sandy beaches and the first to debut her power.

“Everyone, back!” William yelled. “She's dangerous!”

In the lone, empty beach, Astrid stood still and craned her head over to the hill. William swore under his breath. She heard him.

Tap, tap, tap. The steps came after she began running and she made up the hill in ten seconds flat. William was prepared or so he thought.

Clang!

Astrid was lithe and agile yet the power of her swing as she jumped in the air and came down on him forced William one step back. The shaft of his axe cracked as it met her pink sword. She grinned in his face. “Let’s have a fun fight, William!”

‘She knows Mana Flow!’

Max attempted to save him but she swiftly bounced off William and countered his sword. Templars tended to wield swords on account of tradition, though that didn’t mean they relied on it. Max removed one hand from his blade to punch her in the face.

It landed. It was an unexpected blow and Astrid was genuinely caught by. William came behind her and swung his axe amplified by a Whirlwind Strike.

She twisted her torso and calmly blocked it. Her tongue lapped at the mark left behind and she attempted to push him forward. William wasn’t so weak though and he pushed back hard enough to put her on one knee. Her two hands gripped her sword tightly and flowed with mana yet she wasn’t so much as able to budge him. Without momentum, she was much weaker than him.

“W-wow, you’re stronger than most people here!” A pink aura enveloped her as her grin widened. It was then he noticed her class: Intermediate Swordsmen.

“Super Spark Strike!”

Her declaration and sudden burst in power sent him reeling back. Still on his feet, recovering fast, he looked up to see that maniacal grin of hers again.

“Super Electric Thrust! Super Electric Thrust!”

Her casting and actual activation didn’t match, which threw him off. Six electrically charged thrusts of pointed energy flew at him and William desperately blocked. Clang! Clang! Clang! Bang! His shoulder was pierced and he was blasted away. He was able to see his own blood paint the air as he was sent away.

Then, as William crashed down, he caught a glimpse of Astrid blasting away his comrades through overwhelming thrusts. She was too much. His vision nearly faded till the pain in his shoulder dulled and he heard a voice.

“Healing Waters!” He opened his eyes and saw two Templar helmets. “Are you okay!?”

That voice…

“I’ll get him up! Come on, Emma! Can you heal faster?”

“I-I’m trying.”

Emma and Samuel were here. Not just them…

“Charge!”

“Aim at that pink-haired girl! She’s alone!”

…back-up had arrived. William pulled himself up to the surprise of his saviours.

“H-hey, are you okay, man?” Samuel asked, concerned.

“I’m fine.” William checked his HP. The thrust had wiped away half of it. “Did you stop the blood?”

“For the arrow wounds, yeah,” Emma said. “Not the sword hit though. The electric current is still there. I can’t get Healing Waters to work.”

“Save it,” William said. “Healing takes up a lot of mana. Better save it for the battle ahead.”

Because Astrid, the lone pink-haired swordswoman, was actually fending off a dozen different players. She would bounce from one player to another, always managing to gain the upper hand at the end with her dexterity, no skill necessary. The trampling noises accelerated rapidly as the Viking ships docked and the soldiers stepped onto the beach. On the other end, the dispersed Templars had come together and behind them were the Dal Cais, Munsters, Holy Knights, and every player that could be spared.

The leader of the Dal Cais was joined by several members of nobility: his nephew, Toirdelbach, his uncle Cudulligh, and Domnall mac Diarmata of Corcu Baiscind. The forces of Munster were led by Mothla mac Domnaill mic Fáeláin, King of the Déisi Muman, and Magnus mac Amchada, King of Uí Liatháin.

On his horse, the heir of Irelenad Marchad barked out, “Faugh a ballagh!”

“Faugh a ballagh!”

Here, the Battle of Clontarf had truly begun.