Chapter Fourteen: The Fatal Five Seconds

I believe I’ve already mentioned that Sabertooth Mountain is a particularly perilous peak, with only a single winding path leading from its base to the summit. This path can hardly be described as wide, barely allowing six or seven people to walk abreast. On the left side of the path, sheer cliffs tower skyward, while on the right, a precipitous drop yawns into the depths below. As we ascended, traces of human activity became increasingly evident—makeshift railings along the cliff’s edge, or the ruts carved into the ground by passing carts.

Since we set foot on the mountain road, the presence of wild beasts had noticeably diminished, replaced instead by the uniform ranks of those so-called “Sabertooth Bandits.” These were burly, menacing criminals, typically between levels eight and ten. Unlike our previous foes, besides the soul mark “Sabertooth Bandit” hovering above their heads, there was a note in parentheses: (Berserk). When I first saw this, I suspected it must be something akin to the (Leader) designation beside the name of the rabid dog Caplan—likely indicating some special characteristic. Sure enough, their attacks were far fiercer and more powerful than those of beasts of the same level, their movements quicker too. At the same level, I doubted we could easily defeat them one-on-one.

Fortunately, these unruly bandits seemed to dislike working together. They wandered the mountain path in scattered groups of two or three, aimlessly loitering about. Only when we drew near would they shout, “Hand over your purse, fool!” or “This isn’t a place for the likes of you, reckless whelp!” before brandishing their weapons and charging at us. Most fought alone, occasionally in pairs, and only rarely in threes.

Though we outnumbered them, their wild and valorous fighting style still left us struggling. I’m convinced that had they swarmed us en masse, as the beasts had at the base of the mountain, we’d have been routed long ago. Yet, for reasons unknown, they seemed entirely disinterested in such tactics—even when witnessing their comrades being overwhelmed and slain by us, none so much as batted an eyelid. I surmised they were a band of lunatics, brimming with knightly spirit, who considered it dishonorable to interfere in another’s fight, never realizing this code would spell their doom.

With a “Block,” I intercepted the blade of a bandit with my sword, then, twisting my wrist, delivered a “Cleave” that shaved twenty-seven points from his life. As we brushed past each other, I landed a “Smash” squarely on his head. Dazed and sluggish, he was easy prey for my next “Thrust,” which pierced his abdomen. He howled in pain and collapsed, dead on the spot. By then, my fighting spirit was nearly spent.

Through these relentless battles, I gradually gained experience with combat techniques and found my own rhythm. I realized that relying solely on instinct to parry was, while nimble, not nearly as effective as skillfully chaining together proper techniques. Skill combinations let me seize the initiative and defeat opponents more easily. Just now, facing a foe of equal level, I’d slain him at the cost of only half my health. If I’d fought as before—trading blow for blow—I doubt the outcome would have been so decisive.

If I could continuously unleash all my skills, my combat record would be far more impressive. However, these special techniques cannot be used endlessly. After each use, one must regain balance and proper form, which takes time to adjust—this is the so-called “skill cooldown.”

Additionally, using skills consumes fighting spirit—a power intrinsic to everyone, lurking in our bones, muscles, and blood. With training, we can harness it to grant our bodies strength beyond that of ordinary men. The strongest warriors can even manifest their fighting spirit as a tangible force, using it alone to wound their enemies.

Just like the “mana” mages store within themselves, fighting spirit is not an inexhaustible resource. Once a warrior’s fighting spirit is depleted, they can no longer perform advanced techniques and must fight as an ordinary strongman, until rest allows their spirit to slowly replenish. With my meager reserves, five or six basic skills in quick succession are enough to drain me dry.

“Don’t push me! I’m about to fall!” Xian Ge Yayi wailed in terror behind me, his shrieks nearly rupturing my eardrums.

When we were beset by beasts at the mountain’s base, Xian Ge Yayi and his “Rapid Shot” skill had achieved a record to be proud of—at such close range, accuracy was a non-issue, and the ranger’s unconventional prowess in melee was truly astonishing.

But once we set foot on the mountain path, his acrophobia rendered him utterly unreliable. Now, though there was ample space for a wild ox to charge between him and the cliff’s edge, his face had turned a sickly ink-blue, his limbs were limp, and his expression was one of utter despair—as though he’d already plummeted to his death.

“Enough already! If you keep wailing, I’ll shove this into your belly and boot you off the cliff!” At his side, the mage Feinne conjured a sharp, hefty icicle in her left hand, threatening him menacingly.

Xian Ge Yayi’s lips trembled feebly. Glancing at Feinne’s fierce expression (though, in his state, it likely appeared as a terrifying, blurry, multi-faceted mass), he then looked at the precipice, swallowed dryly, and finally fell silent.

In the contest between the beautiful mage and the yawning abyss, the mage triumphed with overwhelming force, becoming the object of Xian Ge Yayi’s greater terror.

His diminished attack power left Feinne as our team’s only effective ranged attacker—though the priest had some ranged abilities, Longbow Shooting the Sun much preferred to play the role of berserker. Feinne was our highest-level member, but her damage output was modest. Though she’d mastered several area-of-effect spells, she favored the basic ice spell “Ice Arrow”—a simple spell all mages learn early on, much like “Fire Bolt” or “Lightning.” While not especially lethal, it could freeze foes and slow their movements.

She could have used higher-tier spells for greater damage, but she had ample reason not to:

“Magical potions are expensive!”

…

The Sabertooth Bandit lair was built on a plateau near the mountaintop, facing the path with its back against the mountain, and a tall wall of fir logs shielding it from the cliff side. Inside the wall stood several scattered wooden huts, and many bandits roamed outside in groups.

Besides the “Sabertooth Bandits” wielding short knives, whom we knew well by now, there were “Sabertooth Rangers” with bows, “Sabertooth Mages” in robes with staves, and “Sabertooth Assassins,” daggers in hand, lurking in the shadows—all marked with (Berserk) by their names. The “Sabertooth Assassins” were especially troublesome; we often didn’t spot their sneaky figures until we were nearly upon them, and their sudden appearances mid-battle repeatedly threw us into peril.

At last, we fought our way to the large hut at the rear of the bandit lair. Peering in from outside the door, we saw a burly figure, far larger than the usual bandits, seated within. Over his head floated the words: “Sabertooth Bandit Leader Lidadis (Leader)”—our target. Several bandits guarded him inside; we dared not approach too closely and could not make out the details.

“I’ll go scout ahead,” volunteered the half-orc rogue, Long Triangle. He drew his dagger and crept toward the hut. After two steps, his massive frame suddenly melted into thin air like a wisp of smoke. Only by watching closely could we make out a vague, rotund misty figure sneaking toward the hut.

Though we were familiar with our half-orc friend’s skills, it was still impressive to see him pull off such a vanishing act under eight pairs of eyes. Given his size, using this technique was at least twice as difficult as for the average rogue.

When he made it inside the hut, my admiration deepened—how had that big fellow not gotten stuck in the doorway? How did he manage it?

Soon, Long Triangle reappeared by the door, and hurried over to us, beads of sweat on his brow and a look of lingering fear.

“That was close…” he said, wiping his face. “I hadn’t even gotten close to the leader before he started staring right at me. I thought I’d been spotted for sure—good thing I ran for it…”

As we knew, a rogue’s “Stealth” was clever but not foolproof. At times, they’d slip up and be noticed. If an opponent greatly outleveled you, the chance of being detected rose dramatically. Thus, seasoned rogues rarely linger in one spot, but keep moving to avoid detection.

“There are six inside…” Long Triangle reported his findings. “A bandit by the door and another in the center, an assassin at each back corner, a mage by the leader. The leader’s a level twelve warrior—he won’t be easy to handle.”

His words gave us pause. Not good news. Though, after fighting our way here, Xian Ge Yayi and I had both reached level nine, and Longbow Shooting the Sun was now a level seven priest, we were still outmatched by this gang—five versus five was tough enough, but now we’d be outnumbered, and the enemy had a high-level leader.

Feinne lowered her head in thought, then looked at us. “This could be a problem. Anyone have a good idea?”

“I’ve got a great idea…” Before anyone else could speak, the boisterous dwarf priest Longbow Shooting the Sun bellowed, “We charge in and kill them all!”

Oh, of course. That had been his answer to every challenge on our journey.

Feinne’s brows knitted tightly; I could almost see dark veins pulsing on her forehead.

“Sounds like a wonderful plan…” she said sweetly, even sounding pleased, as if she’d accepted his proposal. But with this volatile mage (and I’d advise never calling her that to her face), such gentle tones always carried a murderous undertone.

“So, tell us, how do you intend to carry out this plan?” she asked Longbow Shooting the Sun.

He, oblivious to the impending danger, pondered seriously and then pronounced his strategy with utmost gravity:

“Two steps. First, we charge in. Second, we kill them all!”

Silence—dangerous, simmering silence.

A wave of fury seemed to radiate from Feinne, almost tangible, prickling my skin. Though I knew nothing of magic, I could sense the air around us becoming dangerously unstable.

“Ah—” A shriek shattered the silence, making me shudder. The mage, at the end of her rope, found the perfect outlet for her wrath:

“You idiot! I knew you’d say that! While everyone else is racking their brains, you’re making lousy jokes—unforgivable! We all know you’re a psycho, but I didn’t think you were this far gone! I’ll punish you in the name of the moon, you bloodthirsty maniac!”

Feinne’s hands rained blows upon Longbow Shooting the Sun’s face, her sharp nails inflicting a woman’s unique brand of vengeance. Though his health bar barely dropped, the splattering blood and his pitiful wails made it clear his real suffering far exceeded what the numbers suggested.

“What’s going on?” Xian Ge Yayi, unable to see the scuffle, tugged Long Triangle’s arm, curiosity piqued.

“Well… how to put it? The Forbidden 1,211st Form: Eightfold Maiden, True North Star Hundred Crack Fist, Platinum Star: ORA ORA Barrage… Take your pick!” Long Triangle covered his eyes and bowed his head, as if unable to bear the sight, speaking meaningfully to Xian Ge Yayi.

“Oh…” Clearly, these two shared a rapport I could not fathom. Xian Ge Yayi immediately sighed in realization, clucking his tongue and shaking his head mournfully.

My bewildered look caught Long Triangle’s attention. He seemed surprised. “What, Jeff, you don’t get the reference?”

…I nodded honestly.

“Ah, young man, you have much to learn…” Long Triangle patted my shoulder earnestly. He lifted his gaze to the distant clouds, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.

“Generation gap… generation gap…”

Longbow Shooting the Sun let out one final yelp, then collapsed face-down on the ground, his face a mess of bloody scratches—a truly pitiable sight. Though such superficial wounds would heal in moments, his misery left the rest of us deeply uneasy.

“Xiao Xianzi, any ideas?” Mage Feinne planted her foot on the dwarf priest’s head and pointed at the elf ranger.

“I…” The priest’s tragic fate forced Xian Ge Yayi to consider his answer carefully. He pondered, then said:

“Shooting the Sun’s plan was **** reckless and must be firmly opposed. I think we should treat the enemy with contempt strategically, but respect them tactically. If we can’t win head-on, we should make a strategic withdrawal, conserve strength, and try again later. So, we…” He cleared his throat, puffed out his chest, and then, all at once, scurried over and bowed ingratiatingly before Feinne. “How about we just head back and finish the quest tomorrow?”

“Hm…” Feinne nodded thoughtfully. Seeing this, Xian Ge Yayi exhaled in relief and wiped his brow. Just as he thought he was in the clear—

“Nonsense! You call that a **** retreat? That’s outright **** capitulation! We’ve come all this way and haven’t scored a thing—what a waste! What do I always tell you? Never leave empty-handed, never! Got it?” Feinne’s brows arched in fury as she booted the clever elf aside.

The elf ranger tumbled to the ground, rubbing his backside and muttering, “But… we’re not thieves…”

“I have a suggestion…” Before Feinne could ask, Long Triangle, who’d been watching the whole exchange, spoke up: “We could lure out the bandit by the door. I saw him pacing inside, and sometimes he comes right to the threshold. If we use a ranged attack, we might not alert the others. Once he’s down, only five are left. I can use my sap to stun the leader again once my cooldown is up, then you all take out the others—maybe drop one or two before the leader recovers. The rest we might be able to handle.”

Feinne considered this, but found it lacking. “That gives us just enough time to kill one, maybe only the mage with the lowest defense. If the leader wakes up, we’ll be in trouble. His stun duration’s too short. If only you could keep him down longer…”

Long Triangle spread his hands. “No can do—the sap’s cooldown is longer than the stun, and it only works from stealth. Unless he kills me, which would buy you some time.”

“Then there’s nothing for it…” Feinne stamped her foot, gazing resentfully into the hut.

As our plan stalled, a thought occurred to me. “Um… if it’s just about disabling the bandit leader, maybe I can help.”

“You?” Feinne’s eyes lit up, her gaze full of inquiry. Being stared at like that by this mercenary mage was more than a little unnerving.

“I’ve mastered a skill on my own—a shield bash that can stun an opponent for about…” I did a quick calculation using the common units among Planewalkers, “…about five seconds.”

“That’s enough!” Long Triangle cheered before I’d finished. “By then, I’ll have another invisibility potion and my sap will be ready.”

“But…” I hesitated. “To shield bash, I have to get right up to the leader. With all those people in the room, that’s not easy—I’m no rogue, after all; I can’t go invisible.”

“That’s easily solved…” To my surprise, Feinne replied, “Leave it to me—I’ll handle everything…”