Hairu's POV
The moment the countdown hit zero, the air snapped like a taut wire.
The final wave had begun.
From the dense treeline, a flood of goblins burst forward—feral, screeching, and crazed. At their center, stomping through like a beast from a nightmare, was a towering Gold Tier Orc, its war axe dripping with the anticipation of bloodshed.
Hairu didn't hesitate.
"Shields front! Archers and mages, take formation behind the barricades!" he barked, his eyes locked on the horde. "Tyuri's squad—go wide and cut the flank! Don't let them circle us!"
He charged toward the front line, slashing through the first wave with sharp, fluid motion. Steel met flesh, cries rang out, and the clearing became a storm of chaos and violence.
Behind him, Natsuro coordinated the backline, calmly relaying commands to the mages and archers. Magical flares lit the sky—signals and coded marks to focus fire.
Everything was moving according to plan—until flames erupted in the distance.
A tower of black smoke rose from the direction of the supply storage.
Hairu froze for half a second, then snapped his head toward the fire.
"...What the hell?"
Natsuro looked back as well, face stiffening. "That's the supply area! Why now?!"
Hairu clenched his fists. We're so close to finishing the main mission… why does this keep happening?
He didn't have time to think it through.
"Thirty players!" he called. "Break off and handle the fire! Everyone else—hold your ground!"
As the fire team sprinted toward the blaze, the rest of the players rallied at their posts. The battle raged on, the air filled with smoke, blood, and the shrill cries of dying goblins.
Hairu pressed forward, cutting through another attacker, sweat dripping down his temple.
Something's wrong. Someone is working behind the scenes. Again.
But right now, he had no choice.
He had to lead. He had to survive.
No time to look back. No time to question who was pulling the strings.
He would get through this floor.
And once the dust settled, he would start digging for answers.
The battlefield roared around him, but Hairu's mind was clear.
He dashed forward again, sword swinging with precision, cutting down another goblin that had broken past the frontline. Around him, players rallied at his voice, his commands—the very glue keeping them together.
"Don't let them through the barricades!" he shouted. "Protect the mages and archers—every step counts!"
To Hairu, this wasn't just a fight.
It was proof—that with strategy, unity, and discipline, they could survive anything this cursed tower threw at them. His eyes tracked the movement of the Orc now barreling through the center, and immediately he raised his hand.
"Switch formation! Group B, intercept! Mages, support with freezing spells!"
Flames danced, ice cracked, arrows flew.
And it all worked like a machine.
He didn't know about the figure on the rooftop. He didn't sense the silver-masked man watching from above. He had no idea that Rin stood beside him, equally distant and amused. He believed this was his moment—his victory to earn.
As the Orc charged, Hairu didn't hesitate. He led the first strike himself, shouting for the team to hold the line. Blades met muscle. Blood spilled. The massive creature howled in rage.
Hairu gritted his teeth. "It's only one! Focus everything—we finish it now!"
His heart pounded, not with fear—but determination.
To Hairu, this wasn't anyone's story but his own.
And right now?
He was writing it.
The clash of steel, the burn of magic, the war cries of his comrades—all of it surged around Hairu like a storm he refused to be swept away by.
He slashed downward, cleaving a goblin in two, then turned toward the Orc, who was now injured—limping, furious, and cornered.
"Just a bit more—!" he shouted, raising his blade.
Then—
A pulse.
His instincts screamed, a strange light flashed from below, and in that sliver of a second—he looked down.
A magic circle.
Burning red lines twisted into glowing glyphs beneath his feet, a formation too complex to be a random trap. Time slowed. His eyes widened.
"What the—"
He threw himself backward. The magic circle activated.
BOOM.
An eruption of pure force exploded upward where he'd been standing. Dust and light surged like a geyser into the sky. Debris flew, dirt scorched black. A second slower—and Hairu would've been gone. Vaporized.
He hit the ground hard, coughing, ears ringing. His vision blurred for a moment as he stared at the place he had just stood.
The Orc was stunned. So were the players around him. Everyone froze, uncertain whether what just happened was part of the fight—or something else entirely.
"An assassination attempt…?" Hairu whispered.
His fists clenched.
This wasn't just a wave.
Someone was trying to kill him.
The moment of shock from the explosion hadn't even settled when another wave of panic hit.
Shouts erupted from behind him—the rear lines were breaking.
Hairu twisted his body, eyes scanning beyond the smoke where the archers and mages were stationed. Screams, flashes of magic, and arrows fired blindly into the growing chaos.
"They're flanking us!" someone shouted.
From the shadows of the battlefield, a cluster of goblins had broken off and stormed the back. Fast, clever—like they'd planned it. Players scrambled to reposition, but it was too late. The mages were being cut down, their spells interrupted by sharp claws and crude blades. Arrows flew wildly, more in panic than precision.
Then he saw it.
Sitting high on the Orc's broad shoulder was a goblin—but not like the others. This one was cloaked in bone talismans and wrapped in threadbare red cloth, a crooked wooden wand clutched in its bony fingers.
Its eyes glowed sickly green as it screeched an incantation. A second magic circle formed mid-air—this one aimed at the rear lines.
"Goblin Shaman—!" Hairu barked, heart lurching. "That's the commander!"
The shaman cackled, its wand bursting with energy.
This wasn't just brute force anymore.
It was strategy.
The enemy had magic. Coordination. Purpose.
And Hairu had to act before his entire formation collapsed.
The battlefield roared with chaos, but Hairu's mind was already calculating.
The goblin shaman was tearing the backline apart. If they didn't stop it soon, they'd be overrun.
Hairu slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, raising his voice over the noise.
"Natsuro! You're in charge of the rear!" he shouted without turning back. "Full authority—hold the line no matter what!"
From behind, Natsuro's voice rang out clear and calm. "Got it. Go."
That was all Hairu needed.
He turned and dashed forward, weaving through the desperate clashes of steel and claw. Goblins shrieked as they fell, some taken down by arrows from Aiko perched atop a stone outcrop, others by the sweeping blade of Nori's shield-assisted charge.
Tyuri met him halfway, blood on his dagger and a gash running down his arm. He grinned through the pain. "Took you long enough."
Hairu didn't slow. "Focus. We take the orc now."
Nariku was already near the front, her breathing heavy, her eyes locked on the massive gold-tier orc towering over the battlefield. The beast roared and swung its brutal axe, smashing the ground and sending three players flying.
But they weren't alone.
With Tyuri, Aiko, Nori, and Nariku by his side, Hairu took the lead.
The commander himself had entered the fray.
And with that, the battle shifted. The players around them saw it, rallied behind it.
Hope surged—but so did the danger. Because the orc wasn't just strong.
It was watching. Waiting.
And the goblin shaman still hadn't made its final move.
Hairu gritted his teeth, swinging his spear in a wide arc. The blade met goblin flesh, cleaving through two attackers before he pivoted to deflect an incoming strike. The Gold-Tier Orc loomed ahead, every stomp shaking the dirt beneath their feet. Its grotesque muscles rippled as it roared, raising its cleaver high.
And perched on its shoulder like a foul crown, the Goblin Shaman grinned with crooked teeth, chanting in a guttural tongue. A sphere of crimson magic formed at the tip of its wand.
"Magic incoming!" Tyuri yelled.
Hairu felt the build-up—hot, dense air pressing on his skin. He grabbed Nariku by the wrist, yanking her to the side just as the shaman's spell exploded down onto their previous spot.
Boom!
The blast scorched a crater into the ground, embers flying. Tyuri rolled aside, shielding Nori, while Aiko fired an arrow that ricocheted off a protective barrier around the shaman.
"That thing's protecting the caster!" Aiko signed rapidly, then notched another arrow.
Hairu's eyes narrowed. "Then we take down the orc."
The orc surged forward, faster than expected for something its size. Hairu met it head-on, deflecting its cleaver just enough to reduce a fatal blow into a grazing strike along his shoulder. Blood spilled, but he held firm.
Tyuri darted in with his dagger, aiming for the orc's knee—only to be swatted aside like a fly. He crashed into a tree, groaning.
"I'm good!" he called out, struggling to rise.
Nariku dashed forward, sliding beneath the orc's swing and slashing her blade at its leg. It roared, stumbling slightly—but the shaman cackled and raised its wand again.
A second fireball launched. This one aimed for the backline.
"No—!" Hairu shouted.
But Aiko was already in motion. She fired a special arrow—bright blue, humming with pressure.
BAM!
The arrow exploded midair, intercepting the fireball and bursting it apart in a dazzling shockwave.
Hairu used the opening. He lunged at the orc, channeling all his strength into a full-force thrust to its gut. The spear pierced flesh. The orc howled, and the shaman shrieked in rage, casting a wave of dark mist.
"Cover your mouths!" Nori shouted, raising her shield.
Hairu dropped back as the mist spread—but Nariku, already moving again, cut through it, her eyes burning with resolve.
One step. Two.
She leapt, sword raised—
—and struck the orc across the face.
The blow sent the shaman tumbling off its shoulder.
Aiko fired. The arrow hit the goblin mid-air, pinning it to the ground.
Dead silence.
Then the orc roared in anguish—mindless now, enraged.
Hairu gripped his spear tighter.
"We finish this. Now!"
The battlefield was chaos. Goblins screeched as they swarmed, the Gold-Tier Orc flailing in fury after the death of its shaman. Fire and steel clashed under the darkening sky, screams and battle cries echoing in every direction.
Aiko repositioned on a rooftop ledge, scanning for any remaining enemy casters. Her fingers pulled another arrow back—
Swish!
Her instincts screamed, but it was too late. A goblin archer had taken aim from the treeline.
The arrow flew—straight toward her heart.
"Aiko!" someone shouted.
A blur—Nori.
She lunged from the side, shield still lowered from a parry just moments ago. No time to raise it again.
The arrow struck clean through her abdomen, piercing flesh and armor.
Thwack.
She gasped, knees buckling.
Blood spilled, and Aiko's eyes widened in horror.
"Nori—!"
Nori gritted her teeth, still standing between Aiko and the goblins.
"I'm... fine. Keep fighting."
But her voice was strained, trembling. Her legs were shaking.
Hairu and Tyuri turned at the sound, but they couldn't reach them yet—more goblins were pouring in, blocking the path.
Nariku glanced back, eyes blazing with fury.
"Aiko, cover her. I'll cut a path."
Aiko's hands were trembling, but she nodded. She stepped closer to Nori, shielding her with her own body now, tears threatening to spill—but her arrow was steady.
Nori stayed standing.
Even with blood pouring down her side, even as her armor bent from within. Her shield arm trembled, but her eyes burned with focus.
She wouldn't fall.
Not yet.
Hairu gritted his teeth, eyes locked on the massive orc and its goblin shaman perched on its shoulder, chanting dark incantations. Each swing of Hairu's sword kept them both off balance, buying precious seconds.
Behind him, Nariku and Tyuri formed a protective shield around Aiko and Nori. Arrows and spells whizzed past as they fought off waves of goblins closing in on the wounded pair.
Aiko knelt beside Nori, who was pale, sweat mixing with the blood seeping from her abdomen. Nori's breaths were ragged, her strength fading fast.
"Hold on, Nori," Nariku urged, slashing at a goblin lunging at Aiko. "We'll get help."
Tyuri blocked another attacker, glancing back worriedly. "There's no healer nearby… she's losing too much blood."
Nori's eyes fluttered, her grip loosening on the shield. "Can't… fall here… protect Aiko…"
But the fight was relentless.
Her knees buckled.
Nariku caught her just in time, lowering her gently to the ground. "Stay with me, Nori. Don't you dare give up."
Aiko wiped tears from her cheek but kept firing arrows, her focus sharp despite the fear gripping her heart.
Hairu's sword clashed against the orc's massive axe again, sweat dripping down his brow. Every second counted — but without healing, Nori's fate was slipping through their fingers.
Nori's breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more fragile than the last. Blood soaked through her fingers as she clutched her abdomen, her legs trembling, barely able to hold her up.
She looked at Aiko with a faint, weary smile, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her voice was barely a whisper, but filled with quiet resolve.
"I guess... we were meant to be together," she breathed, reaching out with trembling hands.
Her bloodied fingers closed gently around Aiko's hand, cold and trembling. For a moment, the chaos of the battlefield seemed to fade away, replaced by a fragile, fleeting peace.
"Don't be too hard on yourself," Nori said softly, her smile faint but genuine — a fragile light in the darkness.
Aiko stood frozen, her eyes wide and unblinking, caught in a storm of shock and grief. The weight of Nori's words settled deep in her heart, crushing and tender all at once.
Nariku and Tyuri exchanged desperate, urgent looks.
"Aiko, please! We need you. Stay with us!" Tyuri's voice cracked with urgency, but Aiko only sank to her knees, motionless, as if her world had shattered completely.
Nori's eyelids fluttered closed slowly, her hand loosening in Aiko's grasp — slipping away like a fading dream.
The roar of battle dimmed for a heartbeat, swallowed by the crushing silence of loss.
Rin stood silently, watching from the shadows as chaos unfolded on the battlefield below. The clash of steel, the cries of pain, the desperate fight for survival—it all played out like a cruel symphony.
Beside him, the masked man nodded slowly, his silver mask reflecting the flickering light of the burning village.
Rin's gaze hardened as he saw Nori fall, her strength slipping away despite the fierce protection from her comrades. The struggle Hairu faced to keep the orc and shaman at bay was palpable, the weight of leadership pressing down on him.
"This... looks like my time to play my role," Rin murmured, his voice low but resolute.
The masked man inclined his head in agreement, a quiet acknowledgment between two shadows moving unseen.
"I should observe humans even more," the man said with a faint, almost amused smile. "This story is far more entertaining than I expected."
Rin tightened his grip on the spear-shaped Card of Mania strapped to his arm and stepped forward, disappearing into the fray below—ready to tip the scales in a battle that was far from over.