At Marcus’s command, the group eased off their advance toward the white rat. They did not withdraw, but neither did they push deeper. Instead, they lingered along the outer edge of the White Dog Rat territory, thodically clearing the monsters there, making it clear to the approaching players that the boss had already been engaged.
No one spoke it aloud, but everyone understood the situation.
Fifty-plus players against their eight.
If those newcors chose to strike while they were fighting the white rat, they would be trapped between two fronts with no room to maneuver. That kind of pressure could collapse even a strong team in seconds.
So they held their ground and waited, careful not to overextend into the swarm.
Marcus watched the incoming group in silence, hoping, if only slightly, that they had so sense of restraint. It would save him the trouble of making a scene.
The problem was, he knew himself well enough to be wary of that hope. He liked killing players. More than he probably should.
And if things got out of hand, he was not entirely sure he would stop.
Unfortunately, reality proved less charitable than his expectations. The mont the fifty players crested the hill, everything descended into chaos.
"Trash!"
"Kill them!"
"Go! Wipe them out!"
Without a single word of warning, the newcors surged forward and began slaughtering the surrounding players who had only been watching from a distance.
Curses erupted instantly as the bystanders scrambled to defend themselves, but they were completely unprepared. They had been scattered in small, disconnected groups, with no coordination and no unified command. Against a force that moved as one, their resistance crumbled almost imdiately.
Five or six players were cut down before they could even react.
The sheer brutality of it made even Marcus’s group pause.They were not just stealing the boss. They were clearing the entire field, leaving nothing behind.
No witnesses. No competition.
Seeing such ruthless efficiency, anger flared among Marcus’s teammates.
"Stone, what do we do?" Drunkard asked. "Join up with them?"
It was the logical choice. Once the newcors finished wiping out the bystanders, they would inevitably turn their attention here. Taking the initiative now could shift the odds.
Marcus shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the battlefield.
"They’re too scattered," he said calmly. "They won’t hold together. We’d just get dragged down with them."
He was right.
The remaining players were already collapsing under the pressure, their attempts at resistance breaking apart into isolated struggles. There was no structure left to support.
If they fought, they would fight alone.
Marcus said nothing more, but his posture carried quiet confidence. He watched the unfolding battle closely, waiting for the precise mont when everything aligned.
Eight against fifty sounded impossible.
But Drunkard and the others were no longer what they had been before. After their gains on the fourth level, combined with Marcus’s overwhelming support buffs, their effective combat strength had already crossed into Level 30 territory.
And Marcus himself... He was sothing else entirely. If everything played out correctly, they could turn this around.
"Damn."
His eyes narrowed slightly as sothing caught his attention among the incoming players, and then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
"Stone?" Invincible Strong frowned. "What’s with that expression?"
"Old friends," Marcus replied, the grin lingering.
"Seems like you’ve got a lot of those," Drunkard muttered.
The others understood imdiately. They had seen that look before, back on the third level of Black Rock Spire. It never ant anything good for the people on the receiving end.
They looked more closely at the advancing group. Marcus’s voice dropped, carrying a trace of dark amusent.
"Get ready. Don’t hold back."
Fate had a strange sense of humor. He had not gone looking for them, but sohow they had found him again.
If that was the case, then there was no reason to show rcy.
---
The fifty players moved like a machine.
Knights and warriors ford the front line, shields raised, weapons steady. Behind them, archers and sorcerers advanced in disciplined ranks, their attacks raining down with relentless precision.
Against the already disorganized bystanders, they cut through resistance with frightening efficiency. In re monts, half of the remaining players had been wiped out.
Among them, Marcus spotted four familiar figures.
SavageWolf_Slayer, the warrior.
SavageWolf_Stone, the knight.
SavageWolf_Wind, the archer.
SavageWolf_Star, the sorcerer.
The core mbers of the Savage Wolves.
He had learned their nas later, after their previous encounter had sparked discussion on the forums. Their reputation had not improved with ti. If anything, it had only grown worse.
Marcus’s smile faded into sothing colder.
’I didn’t co looking for you, but since you ca anyway... don’t bla for what happens next.’
He exhaled slowly, eyes tracking the flow of the battlefield. The mont had co.
"Pebble. Move."
Temple Guard Pebble surged forward at once, charging straight toward the white rat while repeatedly triggering Taunt.
A sharp squeak split the air.
The white rat reacted instantly, its body tensing as it entered combat. The surrounding White Dog Rats followed its lead, turning as one and rushing toward Pebble, while streams of magic began striking against the construct’s armor.
Marcus watched closely, a hint of satisfaction in his gaze. Pebble had done exactly what he needed.
"Keep going," he murmured.
The mont the aggro locked in, Pebble wheeled around and charged back, dragging the entire swarm with it, straight toward the Savage Wolves.
By now, the enemy had already pushed past the hill, driving the remaining bystanders back toward Marcus’s position. Their formation had loosened slightly, complacency creeping in after their easy victories.
They had grown comfortable, that was their mistake.
There was a certain elegance in letting others do the work for you. Why take risks when you could let the monsters test your enemies first?
Marcus almost laughed.
They wanted the white rat. Fine. He would give it to them. The only question was whether they could survive long enough to enjoy it.
"Not bad," Invincible Strong said under his breath, watching the plan unfold. "I like it."
It was simple, but simplicity did not make it easy.
Luring a swarm of Level 35 monsters, along with a boss of unknown strength, directly into an enemy force required perfect timing and control. One misstep and the entire plan would collapse.
But Pebble held, and that made all the difference.
"Ah—!"
The mont the charging swarm ca into view, the Savage Wolves faltered, their confidence shaken for the first ti.
They had not expected this. Not here and not like this. For a brief instant, hesitation rippled through their ranks.
But it did not last.
At the center of their formation stood a grim-faced warrior, no older than twenty-five. His eyes sharpened as Pebble and the swarm closed to within thirty feet.
There was no ti to reposition and no ti to retreat. So he chose to stand and fight.
"Hold!"
"Knights, shields up! Warriors, brace!"
"Archers and sorcerers, focus the white rat! Ignore everything else! Step back together every two seconds!"
His voice cut cleanly through the chaos, sharp and decisive.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. That was not the kind of command you gave without experience.
Go for the head. Control the leader, control the battlefield.
The white rat was the true threat. Its damage output far exceeded that of the surrounding mobs. If it broke through their front line, the entire formation would collapse.
But if they killed it first... then the rest could be managed.
And with over thirty ranged attackers, even modest damage would add up quickly. From thirty feet away, they had a real chance of bringing it down before it ever reached them.
’Impressive.’
Marcus had to admit it.
What surprised him more was how the Savage Wolves responded. The mont the order was given, their earlier hesitation vanished. They adjusted instantly, reforming their lines with practiced efficiency.
They were not just strong, they were trained.
Arrows flew. Spells burst against the air.
Pebble and the swarm crossed into range, and the white rat beca the focus of a relentless barrage. Damage numbers varied, but they ca steadily, chipping away at the boss’s health.
Marcus’s expression shifted.
’Elite players.’
For sub-Level 30 characters to deal consistent damage to a boss above Level 40 ant their builds, gear, and coordination were all far above average.
He had underestimated them. If they brought the white rat down, everything would change.
"Pebble, stop Taunt."
The order ca instantly.
With the taunt lifted, the white rat’s attention shifted the mont it registered the incoming damage. Pebble, already below half health, was no longer its priority.
The Savage Wolves were.
The air grew heavy as the white rat began channeling a wide-area Water spell, power gathering visibly around it.
Marcus leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the scene.
’Co on. Show what you’ve got.’
For a mont, he even found himself rooting for the monster. Then...sothing changed.
"Damn."
The word slipped out before he could stop it. What followed was not what he had expected.
The Savage Wolves did not break; they held. And in that instant, Marcus understood sothing clearly.
Today... he had run into opponents worthy of him.
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