Miles from the bloodstained Redstone Defile, hidden deep within a temporary Argent Excavator fallback camp hastily established in a concealed mountain basin, Commander Vorlag slammed his gauntleted fist onto a makeshift tactical map table. The flimsy structure rattled, nearly collapsing. His surviving "Steel Vipers" – flinched but wisely kept their silence. The atmosphere in the command tent was thick with Vorlag's barely suppressed rage and the bitter taste of defeat.
He had respawned back at this camp, the system having automatically pulled his soul signature to the nearest Excavator-controlled resurrection point. The penalty for player death – EXP loss, a temporary debuff, and some gear durability damage – was a minor annoyance compared to the sheer, unadulterated humiliation of being killed by a player seven levels his junior, in front of his own squad and Legionary support.
"Report!" Vorlag snarled, his voice a dangerous growl. "Casualties? Equipment losses? And someone tell me what in the blighted hell just happened back there!"
Kael, his usual composure strained, stepped forward. "Commander, initial reports from the Legionary NPC sergeants indicate… moderate losses among their ranks. Several heavily wounded, at least five confirmed KIA. The League caravan guards fought harder than anticipated, especially after… your engagement." He tactfully avoided saying "after you died." "The Steel Vipers… we lost Stryker and Nyla during the initial ranged exchange when their cover was blown, and Ravage fell trying to support you against the… target. The rest of us disengaged on your order after the line broke."
Vorlag's jaw tightened. Losing three veteran player operatives and five elite Legionaries was a significant blow, far exceeding acceptable losses for what should have been a swift, decisive interception of a minor caravan. Chief Surveyor Marius would be furious. The resources invested in those Legionaries alone…
"The target," Vorlag spat the word. "That… player. What do the combat logs say? What did your parsers pick up, Seraphina?"
Seraphina, the Frost Mage, tapped commands into her arm-mounted interface, her expression grim. A holographic display flickered to life above the tactical table, showing streams of combat data – damage numbers, skill activations, buff uptimes – focused on Drake's ID from the encounter.
"The data show a player named Drake, Commander," she said slowly, her voice laced with disbelief as she scrolled through the logs. "His execution consistency for basic attacks and defensive maneuvers was registering at or near 100% SCR almost constantly. That's… theoretically possible on a training dummy, but in live combat, under pressure, against multiple targets including yourself? It's unheard of."
Grak the Berserker grunted. "Felt like I was swinging at air half the time he was near me. Parried everything, hit like a damn golem."
Kael added, "His damage output spiked incredibly fast. Some kind of stacking offensive buff, far more potent than standard warrior or rogue enhancements. And his target switching was instantaneous."
Vorlag stared at the damage numbers scrolling past on Seraphina's display, attributed to Drake. They were far too high for a Level 21 player, even one with decent gear. The crit rate was also unusually consistent. "That passive he uses… [Relentless Assault] if our analysts identified it correctly from the Tutorial Guardian first clear rumors… it shouldn't stack that fast or hit that hard without near-perfect, sustained SCR," Seraphina mused. "But the logs show every primary hit from his main hand was a confirmed 100% SCR 'Perfect Execution,' and his off-hand was consistently in the mid-80s. Even his defensive skill, some kind of advanced Parry, was registering in the high 80s for SCR."
"Exploit?" Vorlag snarled, seizing on the most obvious explanation. "Is he using some kind of third-party aiming software? A script for perfect execution?"
Seraphina shook her head. "Unlikely, Commander, or at least, not a detectable one. The game's anti-cheat systems are supposedly state-of-the-art. No flags were triggered. The execution, while impossibly consistent, still followed legitimate skill animation timings and cooldowns. It wasn't inhuman speed in terms of actions per minute, but inhuman quality per action."
"Then what?" Vorlag demanded. "A hidden class? Some unique talent? Did Marius's intelligence miss something this significant?" The thought that this low-level nobody could possess a power or skill beyond the Excavators' current understanding was galling.
"That bastard… He made a fool of me. Of the Steel Vipers. Of the Argent Excavators. He cost us precious time, elite operatives, and potentially first access to whatever Marius thinks is in that Echoing Forge. If that caravan reaches it, or if he aids them in securing its secrets before our main force can mobilize properly… Marius will have my head." The pressure from his superior was a cold weight in his gut.
"Exploit? Hidden Class? Unique talent?" Vorlag finally growled, slamming his fist down again. "Ultimately, it doesn't matter! He interfered with an official Argent Excavator operation. He cost us resources. He cost us face. He may have cost us the primary objective if that caravan isn't stopped."
He paced again, the rage coiling tighter within him. "Drake… he's no longer just 'competition' or an 'unknown variable'. He's a direct threat, a priority target." His eyes burned with a cold, vengeful light. "He made fools of us, made me look like an incompetent amateur. The Argent Excavators will be repaid for this."
He turned to Seraphina, "Analyze every frame of our combat logs with him. Find a weakness, a pattern, anything we can exploit. What's his gear? Any visible enchantments? Any specific resistances or vulnerabilities?"
To Grak, "When we find him, you get first crack at crushing his skull." The Berserker grinned, a savage promise in his eyes.
"This isn't just about the Echoing Forge anymore," Vorlag declared to his assembled team, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "This is personal. I want his head. I want whatever unique skills or items he possesses. And I want whatever relics that caravan is carrying – especially anything that resonates with that Forge signature Marius is so obsessed with. He will learn the price of crossing the Argent Excavators."