My Players Are So Fierce

“Wolves, devour them!”

“Awooo!”

A deep and chilling wolf howl echoed in the laboratory. Under the gaze of Locus Firehammer, who gripped his battle axe tightly, shadows as black as lightning leapt forth and engaged in a bloody battle with them.

“Go!”

Old Flynn seized the moment, dragging his old buddy who was still striking a pose, and dashed out of the laboratory. But as soon as they rushed through two corridors, they came face to face with Miss Biqi, holding a ranger’s heavy sword, and her good friend, the Knight of Liwen.

In that quick meeting of eyes, the fastest to react was Liwen, who gestured and cast a binding wind, entrapping the Explorers amidst a whirlwind that roared like a dragon. Miss Biqi, brimming with energy, charged in, wielding her heavy sword, and unleashed a powerful strike inherited from her grandfather, nearly slicing the Explorers’ “new outfit” in two.

Such an intense fighting scene was truly unsuitable for Old Flynn, a former scout master. He swiftly slipped away into the elevator, closing the door just as the Knight of Liwen approached, and ascended to the second floor, determined to leave quickly.

The Transia People were attacking from both sides; the base had been silently locked down and ambushed. Clearly, it was no longer a place to stay.

As a scout master with poor combat skills, Old Flynn knew well, from his time at the Circle Tower, that the essence of their profession was to “survive.” Engaging enemies directly was never the choice for a Psychic Scout.

However, to leave, he needed to return to his lab to retrieve the results of his research during this time.

Not only was it his means of securing a position within the organization Dusk, but it was also the valuable outcome of his determination to abandon a wasted early life.

Old Flynn pondered where he should depart from. He had heard Kant mention that there was an “ancient teleporter” in an abandoned area on the fourth floor of the base, capable of random teleportation. It was said to have been there since Dusk discovered the place and would randomly teleport users to somewhere in the Dark Mountain Range.

Though it was highly risky, with the base nearly lost, there was little else he could demand.

Hmm, it’s decided!

He would take his research results and escape through the teleporter. If possible, he’d bring Old Canter along; they had been close friends since childhood, sharing spoils for decades at the Circle Tower.

By chance, Old Canter joined Dusk, finally clawing his way into a minor leadership position, never forgetting to pull him along to enjoy the fruits of it. Old Canter had arranged the entire process of his fake death and integration into Dusk.

This was enough to prove their friendship.

That was his plan.

But three seconds after the elevator reached the second floor and Old Flynn dashed out, all his plans were shattered. There, before him, was Cadman People’s Army Scout Captain He Lu, shaking, holding a loaded pistol aimed at him. In his other hand was a Melt Sword glowing orange-red.

Behind He Lu were two researcher corpses, cut down.

Most troubling, He Lu’s canines were visible beneath his lips, and his eyes had turned crimson.

“You old bastard, what have you done!”

“You brat, what have you done to yourself!”

At the moment of their unexpected reunion, both roared in fury, Flynn pained by He Lu turning into a vampire, and He Lu enraged that his mentor had indeed joined a World-Ending Cult.

How things change.

“Listen, He Lu, I can explain!”

Old Flynn decisively tossed aside his magic wand, raising his hands to speak to his only disciple, whom he had regarded as a son:

“I can explain my fake death, Kant’s invitation, and my research here. You’re a freshly turned vampire, aren’t you? You just satisfied your bloodthirst, didn’t you? A vampire in such a state is dangerous; you might not resist your inner thirst for blood and do something terrible.

Put down the weapon, okay?

We can talk.”

“Sure, we can talk, after you’re locked in the sewers of the Crimson Castle!”

He Lu said coldly:

“Don’t worry, I’m not a vampire by first embrace, Master. To confirm your presence here, I consumed the Origin Blood, so you needn’t worry about me losing my freedom.

But for now, listen!

You must surrender to me; only then can I take you back for trial instead of letting the Foreign Warriors hack you down like other heretics.”

“Hmm?”

Old Flynn’s expression shifted slightly; he said:

“You came here personally to save my life? You knew I was here all along?”

“Earlier than you think.”

He Lu stepped forward a few paces, saying:

“Don’t resist, Heretic Flynn Nark, Transylvania welcomes all who wish to reform. Our lord is a generous leader.”

“Ah, it seems you truly have grown a lot. Alright, I’ll go back with you.”

Old Flynn smiled with relief, obediently extending his arms to let his apprentice place the runic shackles on his wrists. He said:

“But do you remember the first rule of the Scout Master I taught you?”

First Rule of the Psychic Scout – Never get too close to the enemy!

“Hmm?”

He Lu immediately raised his gun, but a green shadow jumped out from Old Flynn’s sleeve, landing on He Lu’s wrist.

The small green Poison Scorpion, only the size of a thumbnail, jabbed its stinger into He Lu’s skin with a puff, causing his left hand holding the gun to be lifted by Old Flynn into the air.

As the gunshot rang out, He Lu lost control and fell to the ground in a daze.

In the spinning world, the last image he saw was his mentor picking up the Melt Sword and crouching next to him, patting his face.

“Don’t worry… I have something for you…”