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Chapter 104: Luring the Snake Out Part 4
Four dragon-hunters moved through the darkness, their faint shadows flowing like water across the valley. When the lead rider raised a hand high, the knights came to an abrupt halt, turning in unison before dismounting smoothly. Brandon pressed a hand to his sword hilt and swung his leg over the saddle—crafted from some unknown leather—landing on one foot just as Roma began complaining from atop her mount.
“Brandon, riding this thing is so uncomfortable,” she said, holding her neck and frowning. “It’s not fun at all.”
Brandon chuckled as he approached to help the young lady down. He knew full well that Roma wouldn’t have come along quietly without some persuasion. Dragon-hunters, being bipedal reptiles, moved with an ‘S’-shaped undulation of their spines, making the ride unbearable for anyone without specialized training. He had learned this the hard way, wasting dozens of experience points to master the skill from a lizardfolk captive.
He wasn’t about to fall into the same trap twice. Still, seeing the discomfort on his companion’s face tugged at his heartstrings. Gently, he replied, “Go rest for a bit.” After all, Roma wouldn’t be able to contribute to the upcoming battle anyway.
“Then I’ll go sleep,” she chirped, hopping off his arm and winking at him. “I’ll pray for you in my dreams, Brandon.”
“In your dreams?” Brandon asked dryly.
“Yes, in my dreams.” The girl nodded earnestly, her bright eyes narrowing into crescents as if she’d won a small victory. She gave him a fleeting glance before darting off, brushing past Rubis emerging from the forest. Brandon smiled inwardly. He admired Roma’s ability to remain optimistic, even in adversity. That first night in Buchi, her radiant smile had drawn him in.
Though he had inherited Brandon’s feelings, this merchant girl had also won over his modern sensibilities.
He took a deep breath, the cold night air seeping into his lungs, cooling his slightly feverish mind. Among the mercenaries who greeted him, he spotted Tiger Finch and quickly signaled the seasoned captain to retreat and prepare. “The enemy is getting closer. Move quickly—over two hundred lizards. I want every ounce of experience left behind.” Brandon disliked unnecessary chatter before battle; everything had already been explained. This was merely a small ambush.
Compared to his past gaming experiences, this skirmish barely qualified as a team activity.
“Experience?” Sanford muttered, dizzy from dismounting. Tiger Finch glanced at the youth, shrugging. By now, everyone accustomed to Brandon’s occasional odd phrases had grown used to them—and even picked up a few themselves.
“I meant the enemy,” Brandon corrected solemnly.
The Silver Elf commander shot him a glance, lips curling imperceptibly.
Brandon’s orders were swiftly carried out.
The group retreated into the forest on the hillside, where the young man began arranging tactics. Facing clustered enemies around level twenty, Brandon decided to employ their most effective strategy from past games—divide and conquer. Alongside Tiger Finch and the Silver Elf commander, he concealed himself among the trees, watching as the Silver Elf guards and mercenaries took their positions.
As professional warriors from the Holy War, the elves’ armor had been matte-finished by skilled elven craftsmen, ensuring no reflection under moonlight. The mercenaries wore lightweight leather armor or black-painted chainmail, eliminating similar concerns.
Rows of elves crouched behind the bushes, hands resting on their double-edged swords, which were covered with dried leaves to avoid detection. Thirty feet behind them, the mercenaries held their shortbows or crossbows steady, barely daring to breathe. Brandon wanted no casualties in this fight, assigning the elven guards as the frontline melee force while the mercenaries handled ranged suppression and damage.
This instinctive effort to minimize losses was seen by the newly joined Gray Wolves as a sign of compassion. Macaro, the former “Mane Wolf,” though capable of securing victories, shared the aristocratic commanders’ tendency to view subordinate casualties as mere numbers. In Vonder, with its abundant population surpassing Earth’s medieval era, manpower was often treated as expendable.
But Brandon, shaped by gaming, valued every NPC deployment, knowing each represented real investment—whether purchased or earned through special quests. Naturally, he couldn’t bear to squander them like cannon fodder.
Unaware that this subconscious gesture had stirred loyalty among the Gray Wolves, Brandon pulled out his pocket watch and estimated the time:
At most, an hour remained.
He exhaled softly, shaking off the chill of the pre-dawn forest. Yet, he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Just a minor skirmish, and here he was feeling nervous. Since joining Grace’s Force of Gods guild to battle Madara, hadn’t he commanded three or four regiments? What grand scenes hadn’t he witnessed? Even moments before crossing into this world, he had mocked timid newcomers, never expecting to feel like a green recruit himself.
Still, as he gazed through the grayish-white moonlit woods, his blood raced. This wasn’t his first battle in this world, but how long had it been since he last spent a night hiding in a forest, waiting for enemy guild members to pass?
He watched the emerald-green numbers projected onto his retina, shifting constantly. He recognized them—they were called distance plugins in past games, used to calculate spellcasting and shooting penalties. But now, they felt surreal. Pausing, Brandon reviewed his attributes:
Strength: 19.4 (+0.1), Agility: 10.9 (+1.1), Constitution: 21.2 (+2), Intelligence: 1.1, Willpower: 3.6 (+1), Perception: 3.9. (Values in parentheses represent bonuses from equipment or other sources, already included in totals.)
His stats were nearing silver-tier strength. With one more level, Brandon was confident he’d reach that realm. But compared to his base stats, his skills were far superior. This life’s circumstances vastly surpassed his previous one—White Crow Swordsmanship and Strength Surge were among the most impactful early-game combat skills. Brandon couldn’t fathom how he’d survived in his past life with only basic skills at level twenty. Now, armed with experience and advanced techniques, defeating same-level opponents was almost effortless. He estimated his true strength could rival lower-tier silver-rank, nearing mid-tier without relying on tricks.
With his past gaming expertise, he might even challenge gold-rank foes. But against particularly troublesome enemies, experience and skills sometimes fell short.
Reflecting on this, he suddenly turned to ask, “Your combat techniques come from the sanctuaries, right?”
The Silver Elf commander paused, eyeing him warily.
“Relax, I know your rules. I’m not interested in your elven combat arts—I’m just curious,” Brandon said while thinking to himself. Of course I’m interested, but with insufficient reputation, you’d never teach me.
“Even if I told you, you couldn’t learn. The Silver Elves’ techniques are tailored for my kin, human.” The commander turned away coldly.
Brandon inwardly scoffed. So the seemingly icy commander could also speak falsehoods. If only he knew—Brandon had already learned several Silver Elf techniques in his past life. But he kept silent, smiling instead. “Don’t be so harsh. You’re Minnis, right? Did you live through the Holy War?”
Minnis glanced at him, puzzled by the shift in topic, but nodded nonetheless.
“Then have you studied dark combat techniques?”
“No.” Minnis answered firmly, glaring at Brandon. His lips twitched, but he restrained himself. Only one type of Silver Elf learned dark techniques—those who joined the Dark Elf Legion under the Dragon of Darkness. Though Minnis suspected Brandon was mocking him, he reasoned it was likely unintentional. Few in this age understood such secrets.
What Minnis didn’t know was that Brandon was one of those few. Though he himself wasn’t sure if he still counted as “human,” given the strange numbers flickering on his retina and the dual souls within him. After a pause, Minnis spoke again. “Do you truly wish to learn, human?”
This time, it was Brandon’s turn to freeze. He opened his mouth but found no words.
You’re really going to teach me? Are you messing with me?
After all, the reputation among the Silver Elves’ was notoriously difficult to raise—
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