The assault was a resounding success. Edward was not surprised, of course. Their opponent had been unprepared for any real show of force. The coordinated siege stemmed the tide of goblins with ruthless efficiency; the creatures became little more than lambs to the slaughter. Though lives were lost—an inevitability in any battle—the toll was far lighter than expected. Of nearly four hundred participants, only about seventy perished, and none of the fallen were Edward’s men.


    To him, this was no coincidence. Without his leadership, these people were little more than children playing at war. Amateurs, disorganized and reckless. They lacked cohesion, strategy, or the faintest hope of discipline. Edward was certain that, without his guidance, they would have thrown themselves at the goblin encampment in fragmented groups until they were decimated, leaving nothing but despair in their wake.


    Thirty minutes into the battle, a noticeable shift occurred. Reports from his officers confirmed that the goblins had lost all semblance of organization. They were retreating—panicked and frenzied—tearing down their own defences to facilitate a chaotic escape. Victory was all but assured.


    But Edward could not savour it.


    The notification came through just as he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, dousing his triumph in white-hot rage.


    <hr>


    Capt. Leonard Mathews:


    Requesting assistance, I was unable to complete my mission, I am currently incapacitated and unable to retreat to the designated fallback location.


    Edward:


    Elaborate.


    <hr>


    Edward’s blood pressure surged as he read the message, his vision blurring and his face burning with fury. Mathews had failed. Mathews—a career soldier with an impeccable record, a man whose accomplishments were the envy of any commissioned officer—had failed to kill a twenty something kid with little to no real training. The very idea was preposterous. Ryan’s guild was resourceful, yes. They possessed an array of unorthodox skills not seen among the players Edward had integrated. But Mathews? He was supposed to be untouchable.


    Through gritted teeth, Edward read the follow-up report. Mathews, despite his agony and predicament behind enemy lines, relayed the information with clarity and precision, refusing to obfuscate his failure. The cause was undeniable—Ryan. There was something uncanny about that boy — no, man. Reports consistently indicated that anyone who fought Ryan encountered inexplicable setbacks. By all accounts, Mathews’ should have torn him limb from limb. Yet, somehow, Ryan had turned the tables.


    Edward forced himself to focus. The battlefield was still active, and while the goblins were in full retreat, a counterattack was a very real possibility if they were not crushed entirely. He dispatched a contingent of players to retrieve Mathews, led by one of his most trusted officers. Simultaneously, he ordered an assault team to push deeper into the goblin stronghold, securing a foothold and ensuring no remnants of resistance could regroup.


    Total victory might be within reach, but Edward had no intention of leaving anything to chance.


    It was concluded that Ryan’s team had successfully defeated the ringleader. To the enlisted players, this was all part of the strategy: Edward and his forces were to create an opening for a precision strike led by Ryan’s team. As far as they knew, this was textbook battlefield coordination, utilizing a disruption of command structures to cripple the enemy.


    What they did not know was that Ryan’s team was supposed to fail, leaving Mathews looking like the hero who saved the mission.


    Edward had manipulated Milli to insist that her team take point on the infiltration. She hadn’t suspected for a moment that her decision had been carefully maneuvered into place. As a veteran of counterintelligence, Edward was an expert at working assets and sowing misinformation. Manipulating players into doing his bidding was, for him, an effortless exercise.


    Even so, the group had surprised him. When the tent erupted in a massive fireball, Edward initially chalked it up to Mathews letting off some steam—or, perhaps, a desperate last attack from the goblins. But the reports from his men told a different story. Ryan’s team had not only neutralized the ringleader but took no casualties.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Edward’s original plan had been simple: have Mathews trail Ryan’s team and pick them off at the right moment. The ultimate goal was to join Ryan’s guild, assume control, and leverage its benefits while maintaining autonomy from the Adventurers Guild. While his disdain for the system and lack of a class was genuine, the rest of his pitch to Ryan had been a carefully woven lie.


    When it became clear that Ryan would never bring him into the fold, Edward decided that having him running around was an unnecessary annoyance.


    Now, everything was in disarray. Mathews had failed and Ryan had slipped through his grasp. His men had crossed the barrier and reported a tranquil landscape of cobblestone roads, pastures, and farmland. Their cross was approximately ten minutes after theirs but they couldn’t find any sign of the group.


    Edward himself had not yet made the attempt. Not wanting to be caught off guard, he waited until half his forces had passed through the barrier, setting up a defensive position around the landing zone while dispatching scouts to assess the new environment.


    Mathews returned from his ordeal scarred—both physically and mentally. His arm, still fused to the machine, had to be amputated. Though he remained professional and composed during his debrief, Edward could see the event had shaken him. Edward ordered Mathews to stay by his side, knowing his presence would still be invaluable.


    As Edward approached the barrier, he watched a group of players pass through the jelly-like substance. Confidently, he stepped forward, letting the barrier press against his face. But instead of giving way, it resisted like thick rubber. His nose squished painfully, and the barrier forced him back with a solid shove. A notification flashed before his eyes.


    <hr>


    System Notification:


    Players who lack class assignment are unable to proceed to the next area. Please finish class assignment before continuing.


    <hr>


    Edward’s mind raced, and he quickly pulled Mathews back before he could step through.


    “Sir?” Mathews asked calmly, though the way he was scrutinising him betrayed unease. He’d seen this look on Edward’s face before—most notably during the disastrous prisoner exchange that had led to their court-martial. It was the look of a man facing a problem he hadn’t anticipated.


    Edward took a steadying breath. “We need to fall back to the guild and get me a class assignment. I can’t pass through until I do.”


    Mathews didn’t question it. Over the years, Edward had earned his unwavering trust. If his commander said they needed to adjust their plans, then that’s what they would do. Together, they turned back toward the encampment, leaving the barrier—and the forces waiting beyond it—momentarily behind.


    It was a gruelling three-hour round trip. Along the way, a handful of goblins attempted to ambush them, but even with only one arm, Mathews proved to be more than a match. He dispatched the attackers with brutal efficiency, his skill as a fighter undiminished despite his injury. The journey to the settlement was otherwise uneventful, and Edward wasted no time upon arrival. The induction and class assignment process was expedited with ruthless precision, much to the irritation of the instructor and staff.


    Edward selected a rogue-style class called a “Slippery John.” The absurd naming conventions grated on his nerves, but the class’s skills made up for the indignity. It granted him proficiency with daggers, provided ludicrous damage multipliers when attacking unaware enemies, and allowed him to blend seamlessly into shadows for brief periods. Edward couldn’t help but wonder if the class had been inherited from one of the players who had fallen in the raid, but it was of little consequence.


    On their way back to the encampment, Edward received a troubling report: the barrier separating the encampment from the new area had begun to solidify. Though three-quarters of the forces had successfully crossed, the final group who were waiting for him reported that players had started struggling to breach it. The message left a sour taste in Edward’s mouth. He and Mathews were still an hour away from the encampment, and the return trip proved more hazardous as the goblin forces regrouped, forming patrols along the roads.


    The pair fought their way through, Edward’s new skills proving to be exhilarating to use as he picked off enemies from the shadows. The power of these abilities were undeniable, he could feel his body fill with vigour. Mathews, undeterred by his injury, cut down attackers with a ferocity that left no doubt as to why Edward trusted him implicitly. Each skirmish honed Edward’s abilities further, and his confidence in his newly acquired class grew.


    By the time they reached the encampment, the situation had worsened. The barrier had completely sealed, rejecting all further attempts to pass. The remaining forces regrouped, battered but alive, and it was clear the goblin encampment was beginning to re-form. Patrols became more frequent, and the tent and its fortifications had started repairing themselves.


    Edward cursed his earlier oversight. Mathews had suggested he take up a class before the raid began, but Edward had dismissed the idea, unwilling to settle for any of the lacklustre options available at the time. Now, his delay had cost them precious time and momentum. Still, he refused to dwell on his failure for long. There was a sizable number of players left in the settlement, ripe for recruitment, and the intelligence gathered during the raid had already sparked a new plan.


    This time, Edward would forgo the need for a sacrificial force. Instead, he would orchestrate a precise, surgical strike, infiltrating the encampment to eliminate the VIP without drawing the enemy out en masse. Then he would cross that barrier.


    And when he did, Edward promised himself, Ryan and his little band of misfits would pay. He would hunt them down and make them suffer—each one of them—before ending Ryan. Mathews’ failure and his own humiliation would be avenged, and the boy would learn what it truly meant to challenge someone like himself.