Ednfelt Wall (2): Boss Trio Slain
The blade cleaves through the goblin and wolf in one stroke. No resistance whatsoever. Even after bisecting the boss, the remaining physical force whips up a gust like a sword wind.
Whoosh!
The last two react instantly. True to their cunning nature, they scatter left and right at the sudden death of their comrade. Then comes the fierce sandstorm. Mixed with the thick stench of blood. It clogs the wolves' noses and blinds their eyes. Just as planned.
Shadow Step. I slip silently into the darkness. First target: the left. I dash straight left and slash the throat of the sniffing wolf. Before it can even lose balance and fall, I spin my sword and cut down the panicking goblin. A boss goblin is still just a goblin. No reason I couldn't dispatch these low-tier scum who compensate endlessly for their pathetic physiques.
The dust is clearing. The last one on the right seems to have finally assessed the situation. Keruk, keruk. It squeezes grotesque sounds from its throat, head whipping around. Calling for its minions. Futile. This is a battlefield. Amid the chaos of slaughter before the wall, no boss's call will be heard.
Instinct from the wild? The wolf below decides and bares its fangs at me. I knew from the first one instinctively: the boss isn't an elite monster. Traits don't apply. I reverse my grip on the dagger. Stealth is already broken, but within expected range. Can I do it? I have to.
After three deep breaths. The waiting wolf lunges at me. In just three strides, the boss is at my nose. I lean back like a limbo dancer. The wolf snaps at where my upper body was, sailing over me. I slice horizontally into the soft underbelly exposed before my eyes. I feel the blade catch on the spine. Hot entrails spill over my face, and the wolf's upper body slams into the ground, momentum unbroken. The goblin boss atop the massive wolf's severed torso tumbles down pathetically. It's comically scrambling on the ground, clutching its spear.
"Hoo..."
Done. It went pretty much according to plan. Berga's physical prowess, turning imagination into reality—truly wondrous.
The goblin barely levels its spear at me. The tip wavers. The sand beneath is wet; must've pissed itself. I flick the spear tip aside and thrust my dagger straight.
Boss Goblin Rider Trio Defeated!
Summoned units receive compensation as a percentage of summon costs based on contribution.
Wave not yet cleared!
These guys don't even have names.
Looking back, the sandstorm has fully cleared. The distant wall comes into view. Soldiers stand frozen, staring this way. Lena's there too. Leaning on the parapet with sword in hand, gazing down.
Curious what the expensive merc was doing way out there? Answer: I'm just now exhaling a long breath. They probably can't tell. Everyone atop the wall has their mouths agape. Impressive, sure. But it's too early to be surprised. Time to rack up extra contribution now.
I turn and sprint toward the wall. I don't crave gear myself. But gotta window-shop before deciding.
The remaining goblin riders cling to the wall like barnacles. Not enough space? Plenty more snarling from behind, waiting their turn. Hey there? My contributions?
"Hoo..."
Wave's mostly wrapped up. About time for the alert—then I spot a goblin trembling under a wolf skewered by a ballista. Last survivor a coward? National rule? Send it meekly to join its boss, and ding.
Wave 12 Cleared!
Summoned unit 'Slicer Berga' contribution rated highest grade!
Excess contribution available for claim! (Excess contribution affects grade recalculation.)
Yeah, yeah, come on in.
Cheers erupt simultaneously. From the wall, inside the gate, everywhere. Thunderous. Probably because there are many survivors. Or maybe because it's relief without desperation.
"Hero! Thank you! Sorry for the late greeting!"
Entering the gate, one of the herders I passed on the way out bows. Five-man squad. All accounted for. I nod lightly as I pass, and the rare-grade unit acting as commander snaps a crisp salute. The bearded armored fellow raises his sword, and surrounding soldiers follow suit. Swords, spears, arrows, shields. Hands holding their weapons snap to their chests in unison.
Embarrassing. No, unfamiliar. In two years of grad school, the only thanks were professors skimming my all-nighter prep slides and muttering "good work." Not even thanks—just a pass stamp.
I look at the soldiers. Not a single loose grip among the salutes. I awkwardly raise a hand once. They cheer again, thinking I've returned it.
"Ha... haha."
Awkwardly standing there, Lena pushes through the soldiers. More like running.
"Berga-nim!"
Her face flushed with excitement. No trace of pre-battle anxiety.
"That was incredible! Three bosses... alone... so quickly...!"
She's chatty now.
"A-and using the sandstorm after the first strike... was that planned from the start? Before the attack? Ah, sorry. It's rude to ask about tactics..."
She babbles on, then retracts her own question and fidgets. Was she always like this? Hard to square with the commander who drew her sword on the field.
The late afternoon breeze sweeps her hair. Revealing reddened ears.
"Ahem."
I clear my throat needlessly.
"Thanks to your solid command, Commander."
True. Her tactics let me wait patiently for the moment. Half sales-pitch humility, sure.
"Um..."
"Yes? Ah. I mean it, Commander."
Did she see through my sales line?
"N-no... that... You can call me Lena."
Her ears redden more.
I walk with Lena inside the wall amid post-battle cleanup. Not much to clean: soldiers clear stake debris, haul monster corpses. Monster corpses, not comrades'. Laughter echoes here and there.
Lena explains as we go: wall structure, troop formations, siege weapons. Tension eased? She realizes she's talking a lot, clams up and fidgets, then resumes when something pops up. I'm naturally taciturn—good listener—so it's easy.
Strange. Slicing monsters in an alien world, chatting with a first-met commander on the wall. And it's... comfortable. Fun, even. Probably 'cause she's a top commander. I was one too in the game. Feels like bantering with a junior.
The tea in the command tent is fragrant. Right then.
A ridiculous notification pops in my peripheral vision.
Long-term consulting contract with commander available.
With consulting contract, gain contribution via advice even without direct summon to waves.
Contract requires mutual agreement.
I read it twice. Consulting contract? Check junior's troop placements, spout strats, and contributions roll in passively? And I'm no mere hero unit. Ex-commander turned merc. F2P strat master. Feels tailor-made for me.
Why pass on a sweet side gig? New revenue stream, fun and profitable. Pitch it to promising ones. More cleared waves mean more contributions for me. Lena across from me is the perfect example.
"Commander."
"Yes? Ah... you can call me Lena..."
"Ahem, Lena."
"Yes!"
"Heard of consulting contracts?"
Her eyes widen.
"Ah, yes... I know of them, but..."
She trails off.
"Any issues?"
"N-no, just... they're rare. That's all I know."
"Why?"
"Well, mercs have... unique personalities... more brute force than tactics..."
Ah. Overlooked that. I'm special. Most mercs—especially heroes—are extreme breakers for stuck points.
"How was my performance, by your judgment?"
"Pardon?"
Won't miss this. You're my contribution farm now.
"Uh... incredibly strong, gentlemanly... handsome too..."
"Pardon?"
"Ack! Forget I said that!"
Lena flushes, head down. Embarrassed?
"Um! Berga-nim! If it's not too forward... could we... make a consulting contract?"
Sudden...?
Lena flips attitude. No clue what sparked it, but welcome fish swimming into my net.
Hm? Her expression? That odd smile mixing 60% expectation, 40% obsession. As I open my mouth to reply.
Vision whites out.
Timing, really.
But another notification, reading my mind again.
Remain in summoned battlefield?
(Note: Charged Cron per time stayed.)
Yeah. That figures.