Username: CJS69Real

Level: 42

Class: Squire

HP: 220/220

Attack: 75

Magic: 8

Defense: 40

Resistance: 33

Damage Reduction: 8%

I didn't slow down when I passed through Mok Town.

The streets were a frantic mess, like toilet paper store on a tornado warning, and like the game had suddenly become a stock market floor during a crash.

Players were running everywhere, yelling over each other, someone was waving a staff in the air, begging for a tank. Another was crouched on the ground, throwing potions into a trade window with one hand while tightening his boots with the other… How the fuck do you multitask like that? Absolutely insane.

"Almost full party here! Just need heals!"

"Trading large potions! Only three left!"

"Looking for anyone with Staff of Control, will pay a good price for your service!"

The noise pressed against my ears like a swarm of flies, overlapping, clashing, becoming almost unbearable. It reminded me of trying to leave a packed concert venue, everyone rushing for the same door, shouting at once, afraid they'd miss their chance for some stupid reason like that door was going to Harry Potter itself… Kind of reminds me of that one Korean stampede thingy.

I kept running, my boots slapped against the cobblestone until the last shop and wall faded behind me, until the frantic screams of Mok Town turned into faint echoes, then the forest swallowed me whole, and I took a deep breath.

Mok Forest, that's what people called it, at least. No official name on the map, any quests that lead here just called it "The forest adjacent to Mok Town" so that was the best option available. It was just an abundance of trees stacked so thick that the sun fractured into narrow shards, painting the ground with stripes of light.

The deeper I went, the louder the chaos became, and I started seeing more players nearby, and finally, I knew that I was finally there when I saw that they were all here.

At least a hundred players, maybe more, crowded between the trunks, every inch of space filled with chatter and preparation.

Some were hunched low, whispering to their teammates while refilling belts with potions, others were already clanking into heavy armor, strapping down chestplates and greaves with shaky fingers.

Support casters muttered incantations under their breath, layering one buff after another until the air glimmered faintly with enchantment residue.

Too much visual effect happening on screen, and people started asking if there was an option to limit them. Which is… A good question, yeah.

"Pop that agility buff now, we'll need it right on the charge."

"Hold, hold… Wait for the cooldown timer."

"Where's our healer? Someone find the damn healer! Did his mom chewed him out for homework again?"

"Joaquin stop looking at that girl."

The smell of tension hung over the whole place, thick as smoke. Everyone knew what was waiting just beyond the clearing.

I squeezed through a knot of players and got my first glimpse of the post, yet, not enough, so I pushed past another thicket, and there it was.

A system chime rang in my ears, blaring and urgent:

[RAID BOSS: TITAN OF ASHEN BARK – LV. 66]

"The forgotten guardian of the forest awakens, its wrath fueled by centuries of desecration."

And holy hell, it was huge. I remember seeing this dude like twice.

Easily fifty feet tall, yes, 50.

The boss loomed in the clearing like some terrible monument that had torn itself free from the earth. Its body was a grotesque mixture of charred wood and stone, veins of molten light glowing between cracked bark plates like half-finished armor.

Its legs were rooted, gnarled things that pulled up dirt and rocks with every heavy step, while its arms ended in jagged claws large enough to scoop a wagon whole.

The face, uh, if you could call it that, no kink-shaming here; was the worst part. A long wooden jaw split open vertically, similarly to a log being chopped apart, lined with sharp stone fangs.

Above it, a single hollow socket burned with fire, a lantern-like eye that scanned the forest like a lighthouse beam.

It let out a guttural roar, and I swear the branches above bent away like they were afraid of it.

Adrenaline coarsed through my veins (easy ejaculation joke here) as I clenched tight on my items and stuff.

All around me, the forest was alive with the chaos of a hundred players swarming in after they had finished with their preparations.

Tanks were shouting over each other, scrambling to strap on armor while their mages spammed debuffs like candy. Clerics muttered rapid-fire incantations, filling the air with healing circles that glowed under our boots before anyone even got hit.

Rangers were stringing arrows with trembling hands, their guild leaders yelling strategies I doubted anyone was actually listening to.

A few overeager idiots had already charged in, screaming war cries that ended quickly in shrill death yells when the Titan's claw came down and swiped them into the ground like bugs.

The Titan of Ashen Bark then used a skill, and I squinted to make sure that I remembered this guy correctly.

The ground cracked open in jagged lines, swallowing players whole, their avatars blinking out as screams filled my ears through proximity chat.

Others were already arguing in the treeline:

"Stick together, idiots!"

"No, no, wait for the main tank to engage!"

"What? We have to split up!"

"Where's our support?!"

The whole forest was claustrophobic with bodies. Arrows and blades stacking, clanking against each other with the occasional "fuck off" or "sorry", people throwing potions in panic, parties huddling behind trees as if a single log would stop that thing.

And me? I could barely contain myself~

I knew this boss… Not exactly the VR version nor the raid boss version, but its mechanics, quirks, the so-called "randomized" attack pool that left people unable to predict and dodge its move.

Titan of Ashen Bark got six moves in total and it's well documented, but reading its pattern was impossible, because the boss only had one (1) animation, but that animation gets used for all six different attacks, literally just pure RNG to when and where the next attack will come from.

To most people, unpredictable meant unbeatable, to me, yours truly, it just meant exploitable.

But fuck…

"Now's the chance to get some [Help Players In Need] count in, I guess…"

I glanced around

And my eyes caught something I didn't expect, but were glad to see.

Off to the side, not too far from the treeline, still out-of-combat, was a small but well-organized group was rallying with unusual calm.

Ten players, tight formation, their voices level compared to the panic around them, they seemed composed and well-formed.

And at the front of them stood someone I recognized immediately.

Jack Kendrick, or J97, the leader of Lion's Parade guild.

Tall, armored in gold and crimson, his sword gleaming like he'd polished it right before logging in, he'd be a catch for cis women.

His team of 10 was textbook-perfect: three tanks at the front, four attackers split evenly between ranged and melee (him being one of the melees), three support casters/healers behind.

Balanced, safe, everything I remembered about him screamed "Mr. Responsible Guild Leader"

Which would've been fine… if I hadn't technically, sort of, maybe, could have, probably, completely slaughtered half his party last month.

My stomach knotted, then untangled with a nervous laugh I had to bite down before it slipped out. Of all the people here I needed to abuse to get my way, Jack and his guild members were the only one I could get my hands on right now, and they're reliable, too.

I ducked behind a split-barked oak, making sure that no one would look over here. From here, I could hear them clearly, the one team in this madhouse that wasn't losing their heads, wasn't charging in for the lick, they knew their worth and demerits.

Jack Kendrick, or J97 spoke, his voice carried steady over the commotion, deep enough to cut through the forest noise without shouting.

"We are going to approach this with the formation practiced last Sunday, aggroing mid-range. Healers need to conserve mana, only use low spells until the buffs run out, then we cycle once more before retreating. Remember, for a raid boss, our goal is to deal damage sufficiently to get rewards, not getting the last hit or die trying."

A member party responded.

"How do we navigate the retreat in the case that it uses that one skill that'll slowed everyone right there?"

Jack didn't flinch, pulling out a bottle,

"I got three of these speed potions, if our retreating route is cut off, then Lyra, Sol, and I will push everyone back."

They nodded, audible even in their avatars' stiff animations.

I pressed my back harder against the tree and adjusted my cloak, removing it off my face, and breathed in the heated, smoky forest air, well… screw it.

I stepped forward, forcing a grin.

"Hi there, don't shoot, it's me, Jack." I said, "I have an offer."

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