In an instant, Yor arrived in Oris Mons—right in the middle of a raging battle between humans and lizardmen. The two forces clashed violently across scorched plains and broken hills, both fighting for control of Fort Khazkan—one of the three lizardmen strongholds in the region.
The teleportation made him feel like he'd been spinning on a merry-go-round for an hour, and the deafening noise of shouting warriors and clashing steel only made it worse.
The chaos overwhelmed his senses, making it hard to think clearly. Sunlight stung his eyes as he squinted against the brightness, only adding to the disorientation.
He glanced around, searching for Ludwig—but saw only turmoil.
Where did he get sent?
As he brushed the dirt from his knees and started to stand, a sudden whoosh split the air.
An arrow tore past, so close it pulled at his hair, the rush of air lightly kissed his skin.
His breath caught—heart kicking into gear—as the near miss yanked him fully back to his senses.
"Human!" a lizardman hissed, mounted on a creature that looked like a carnivorous plant-beast—its coiled, vine-like body twisting, and serrated leaves forming a dragon-like head.
Above the Lizardman Warrior, a glowing name appeared.
[Lizardman Warrior]
[5000 HP]
He bellowed, "The human race will pay for the death of our chieftain, Gehakku!"
Why are you blaming me dude?
I just got here!
He stood nearly seven feet tall, with sharp back spikes and swampy green scales that faintly shimmered in daylight. His long snout was full of razor teeth and probably stank like a rotting human carcass.
And that tongue...
Its wiggling pinkish tongue...
Yor felt like it was tickling him.
The lizardman threw his bow aside and charged, gripping a bone spear.
Despite the pressure, Yor forced himself to stay calm. He quickly looked around the battlefield and spotted a pile of dead warriors, with weapons lying around them.
But before he could reach one, the lizardman lunged—muscles coiled like a spring—striking like a predator pouncing on a mouse.
—but a paladin stepped in, raising his shield just in time to intercept the blow. The impact sent off a spray of tiny sparks, and a loud ring rippled through the air.
Yor let out a shaky sigh of relief and grabbed a bow and arrow nearby.
A system message flashed in front of him:
[You may change your weapon at any time during the World Event.]
Then it faded away.
He kept his distance, pulled the bowstring, and aimed for the lizardman's eye.
Thank goodness—that was close. That thing has five thousand hit points, and I've only got around three hundred.
One hit and I might die...
He released the arrow, but it hit the skin on the lizardman's back, which couldn't be easily penetrated.
"Aim for his eye, warrior!" the paladin shouted at Yor as he exchanged strikes with the lizardman.
Oh, give me a break.
Can't you see I'm still trying to figure this game out?!
"Don't be so loud about it!" Yor replied, trying to hit the eye again. But his plant-like mount blocked the shot with its vine.
"Damn it!" Yor cussed.
I thought archery class would give me an edge, but this avatar's body just doesn't match the feel of my draw and aim. Not that I'm complaining, though—it just gives me more reason to get better.
Here it goes.
Yor aimed again for the eye. This time, his shot hit perfectly—a critical strike that shaved 1,000 HP off the enemy's health.
He slowly lowered his bow, blinking once before narrowing his eyes.
So that's how it is...
A quiet realization dawned—this wasn't like those hack-and-slash games where every hit deals the same damage.
A single well-placed shot had just taken a massive chunk out of the enemy's 5,000 HP.
The lizardman fell from his mount, which writhed and twisted the moment it sensed no one was controlling it.
Even after taking a critical hit, the lizardman managed to push himself up—unsteady, swaying, but still on his feet.
"My death will not end my vengeance!" the lizardman screamed, fists clenched tightly at his sides, veins bulging with rage. "My comrades carry the same hatred for humanity—and it will not fade until your race is destroyed!"
This guy's straight up racist!
"Goddess of War and Wrath, Leonyra, grant me the strength to vanquish the enemies before me!" A red magic circle flared beneath him, and a fiery aura burst outward, wrapping around him like living flame.
This was the lizard man's ultimate skill: Crimson Wrath, a Guardian type skill that boosted his attack power and speed.
"Good job, warrior—we've triggered him into going berserk. That'll drain his stamina quickly."
The paladin braced himself. "I'll hold the front—just keep shooting. I'll cover you."
He planted his feet, shield raised and sword ready, armor creaking as he locked into position.
Oh...that made me feel better. Like he's not gonna let me die or something.
Alright then—I'm trusting you, Mr. Paladin!
"Thank you, Sir! I'll do my best!" Yor said as he nocked an arrow.
His eyes narrowed as he raised his bow, tracking the lizardman with steady breath and sharp focus.
But then—
a massive, plant-like creature resembling the mounts ridden by the lizardmen swept over the battlefield, nearly blowing warriors off their feets.
It hovered above them, shrieking again and again.
Yor let out a very, very troubled sigh, shoulders sinking. He looked completely done.
"Is this game joking?"