"It's still not enough. I believe the test we're about to face will be... determinantal."
The mayor's hands trembled slightly as he gripped the desk's edge. Around them, the comfortable office felt suddenly fragile—a thin shell protecting them from approaching chaos.
Everything we've built. Everything we've fought for. About to be tested by forces beyond comprehension.
"As you know, there are many others in our position across the world," Arthur continued.
Charles nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"From my estimates, only a few will survive the upcoming calamity."
Statistical reality. Most will fall. Most will burn.
A bead of sweat rolled down Charles's forehead despite the room's cool temperature. His breathing had beco shallow, quick—the physiological response of prey sensing predators.
"The demons will launch their attacks in re hours," Arthur said, voice dropping to near-whisper. "However..."
Arthur's lips curved into a smirk.
"It would be foolish to wait for them to attack... right?"
Charles's eyes widened as understanding crashed over him like a cold wave.
"You an..."
The answer lay before them, it was terrible, audacious, and sohow...brilliant.
Why wait for demons to choose their timing, their positioning, their advantages? Why give the initiative to forces of destruction?
"The demons expect us to cower behind walls," Arthur said finally. "To react rather than act. To fight on ground of their choosing."
Charles swallowed hard, throat working against sudden dryness. "And you propose we... what exactly?"
Arthur's smile widened.
"We hunt them first."
The countdown pulsed relentlessly in Arthur's peripheral vision.
Around them, the mayor's office felt smaller sohow. As if the walls themselves understood the consequences of the decisions being made within them.
War is coming. The only question is who strikes first.
Charles stared at Arthur with a mixture of terror and awe.
The mayor's hands gripped the desk edge until his knuckles turned white.
Strike first.
Control the battlefield. Beco the hunter instead of the hunted.
Charles nodded slowly, mind racing through the consequences. "How do you plan on hunting? Randomly?"
Arthur shook his head, dismissing the suggestion with visible distaste. "That's foolish."
"Hunting randomly will not benefit us in the slightest. We need targets. Specific, strategic, valuable targets."
Random violence serves no purpose.
Arthur leaned forward. "Rember when we spoke last ti about the village's surroundings?"
Charles's expression shifted as mory triggered. Their previous discussion about neighbouring settlents, trade routes, and strategic positioning in the broader landscape of Armageddon.
Charles nodded, before his face turned pale.
"Are you planning on going to the...Forest of Shadows?"
The forbidden zone.
Arthur shook his head, his smile holding secrets. "Not yet."
The casual dismissal of one of the most dangerous regions nearby sent chills down Charles's spine. If the Forest of Shadows wasn't their target, what could possibly be more important?
"The Forest of Shadows can wait."
"For now, we have sothing more important."
"Village 419."
"That's approximately seven hundred kilotres away from here," Charles said, his voice strained with growing horror.
"It will be extrely difficult for our current firepower to make it there without your help, Protector."
The journey alone would be treacherous. Seven hundred kilotres through the wilderness, where demons created their own settlents.
And that's before considering what waits at the destination.
Arthur's smile turned predatory. "Who said I won't help?"
Relief flooded through Charles's features.
"In fact, I will lead the attack personally."
"The others will follow for cleanup operations. We move as one unified force toward that village."
Arthur stood, walking to the window that overlooked Village #420's bustling streets. Below, players trained with weapons that would soon taste blood.
All of them depend on decisions made in this room.
"I want you to give an order," Arthur commanded without turning. "Bring the fighters. Only those at level ten or above can participate. Everyone else stays behind."
Charles swallowed hard. Level requirents ant leaving behind newer players, weaker fighters, anyone who might slow them down or compromise the mission.
"Do we have ti?" Charles asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "What if while we're traveling, the demons attack us? The village will be stripped of its protector and fighters."
That's a valid concern.
The fear was rational; launching an offensive ant leaving their ho vulnerable. If demons attacked while their forces were deployed elsewhere, Village #420 would fall without adequate defence.
All or nothing. Victory or annihilation.
Arthur turned from the window, confidence radiating from every line of his body. "Don't worry about that. We have ti."
'How can he be so certain?' Charles thought.
"Besides," Arthur continued, "the Goblin King is here. He'll alert imdiately if demons launch an attack. I can return instantly."
My space talent is incredibly useful. Teleportation is one of my ace cards.
Charles nodded, though worry lines remained etched across his forehead.
Arthur moved back to his chair.
Arthur moved back to his chair, settling with fluid grace that spoke of supre confidence.
"Charles, understand what we're really discussing here." His voice dropped to deadly quiet. "When the they launch their attacks, our current advantages disappear."
Everything changes.
"What matters then is who controls the strongest positions when reality stabilises." Arthur's eyes glead with anticipation. "Village 419 represents value we cannot afford to leave in enemy hands."
Territory. Resources. Positioning in the new world order.
Charles absorbed this perspective, seeing their gamble in a new light. Not just random aggression, but calculated expansion designed to secure advantages before competitors could react.
Strike first. Claim the best positions. Let others fight over scraps.
"How many fighters can we muster?" Arthur asked.
Charles consulted ntal tallies, numbers he'd morized through weeks of preparation.
"Approximately two hundred level ten or above. Maybe fifty more if we stretch requirents to level nine."
Arthur nodded, accepting the limitations. "Two hundred will suffice if they're properly motivated."
Quality over quantity.
Charles nodded, resolve hardening his face as he prepared to address the village. The seriousness of what they were about to attempt pressed down on him like a mountain.
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