My Players Are So Fierce

Although dawn was approaching and the environment would soon enter the daytime which severely weakens vampires, it was still the darkest moment of the day. The blessing of night enhanced Murphy’s senses far beyond normal.

After hearing the gunshots, he and Maxim immediately rushed towards the source. As they got closer, their supernatural senses allowed them to detect slight movements coming from a cellar below, where a body was pinning down the entrance.

There was someone hiding there!

A woman!

In the village filled with the stench of blood, Murphy caught a faint whiff of perfume. Though not overpowering, it made him narrow his eyes as his left hand rested on the hilt of the crimson cage sword at his waist.

This weapon his mother Tris once used was imbued with the intricate artistic sense that vampires harbor, the cage guard intricately carved with vulture patterns.

It was the symbol of the Blood Vulture, one of the seven major vampire clans.

Its name was the “Blade of the Desire Clan,” and “Desire” was the original sin of the Blood Vulture clan.

A rather peculiar concept in vampire traditional culture, each of the seven major clans had a corresponding original sin to represent their identity as the “Eternal Sinful Progeny.”

Murphy heard another gunshot.

The deep boom came from inside the cellar, wood splinters flying as three small players shouted nearby, having taken cover.

“Hey, isn’t this supposed to be a fantasy game? How can there be such an outrageous thing as a gun?”

The Leading Pigeon covered his bleeding forehead, having narrowly avoided being hit by the bullet. His luck was truly good to have dodged it.

“Don’t ask me, who am I supposed to ask? This is my first time playing such an intense game too. It’s like jumping straight from The Witcher into GTA! Just awhile ago we were fighting Witch Hunters with blades, and now we’re having to do some American quick-draw thing.”

Ah Yuen spat out a cynical remark from the other side of the cellar, having just regained his vision. The Spicy Gugu Chicken was about to rashly charge in half-sword drawn, but Ah Yuen firmly held him back.

The enemy had guns, they couldn’t just brute force it!

They needed to be smart.

“My naive warriors, do you think our world is ruled by some primitive folks?”

Murphy approached and signaled for his newbie player-warriors not to panic. As he pushed aside the body pinning down the cellar entrance, he explained to the three novices:

“The Dwarven records show they had already started using firearms when they laid the first brick for the Bronze Citadel in the year 400. The Western Kingdom that these Witch Hunters belong to had also fully adopted Dwarven weapons during their military reform in 1040. That one-year reform gave the country steel fangs, allowing them to quickly absorb another nation and form the current Goldflower Kingdom.

What I’m saying is, this world is far more complex than what you’ve seen.

You should be more humble.”

“What year is it now?”

The most diligent student among the dormitory six, Ah Yuen, couldn’t help but ask. Murphy glanced at him and said:

“It’s the 10th year of the Decade War, August of Year 1111 in the Age. But we’ll talk about history lessons later, shh.”

He made a gesture for silence, then stood by the cellar entrance and drew out his words as he spoke downwards:

“Girl, are you coming out yourself? Or do I have to drag you out?”

The weak, raspy voice imbued with the poisoned blood made him sound sinister in that moment, like an evil cat about to torment a poor, captured mouse.

But the next second, Murphy’s keen senses picked up the sound of a gun being cocked from below the cellar, making the unfortunate vampire jerk back two steps in reflex.

“Bang!”

Another muffled boom as the cellar door was struck again by a scorching copper bullet, wood chips flying amid a panicked, furious shriek from the woman.

It was clear she utterly despised vampires.

Murphy didn’t immediately advance. After waiting several seconds for her to reload, ensuring the timing, he continued knocking on the cellar door to bait her shot, then charged in during the interval.

Leaping through the dilapidated entrance into the darkness, the retreating woman appeared to Murphy’s eyes as red infrared dots.

Her blood had to be clean.

It made the vampire feel a pang of thirst.

He licked his lips and pounced, not even needing to draw his sword as he batted away the heavy hunting rifle she gripped. Seizing her throat, he pinned her against the cellar wall.

Dust flew as the supernatural strength was undeniably displayed.

Though not very effective against Witch Hunters, it was as easy as cutting vegetables when used to oppress ordinary humans. Just Murphy’s rapid movements in the darkness would have been impossible for the girl to track.

At such speed, even guns and bullets in human hands could provide no protection.

“Ah!”

The young woman Murphy had by the throat let out a shriek.

Her face was smeared with soot, dress tattered. Murphy glanced around, noticing a Witch Hunter’s corpse in the cellar as well.

The latter’s trousers were down around his knees, a dagger protruding from his chest while half his head was blown off.

Hmm, it seemed some rather unsavory events had occurred here before their arrival, no wonder only five of the six Witch Hunters appeared.

The last one must have gotten into trouble trying to have his way with the girl.

The stench of blood in the cellar stimulated Murphy’s eyes to glow faintly red as he felt the girl’s struggles. He could almost see with his eyes the hot blood coursing through her pale skin, making his vampiric fangs ache to extend.

His weakened body craved fresh blood.

But upon noticing his three small players watching from above, Murphy immediately regained his senses. With a wave of his hand, he flung the girl out as she scrambled frantically from the cellar, only to be caught by the three “warriors” blocking the exit.

“Ah!”

Amid shrill screams outside, the crisp sound of a slap rang out as Murphy’s bloodlust receded. Crouching in the darkness, he picked up the hunting rifle and searched the Witch Hunter’s corpse for usable ammunition pouches.

“You are not a monster, Murphy!” he reminded himself silently.

“Drinking the blood of an innocent will make it impossible to turn back. I don’t think you want to see the 25-player raid knocking on your door in the future, do you?”

As he was convincing himself, his hand brushed against something in the dead Witch Hunter’s pouch.

The bloodstained scroll unfurled before his eyes, depicting a handsome portrait of himself with details listed below. The bold words made Murphy’s brow furrow:

High Priority Target, Kill on Sight?

“F**k!”

The portrait made Murphy realize the severity of the situation.

Although he knew the Patriarch had sent him out as bait and cannon fodder, the Patriarch’s malicious intent was one thing. But for his accurate portrait to end up in the Witch Hunters’ hands just one day after leaving town was quite another matter.

Without considering unpredictable spirit magic, if calculated by time alone, it meant the Witch Hunters already knew Murphy’s identity, specific information, and route even before he set out!

Otherwise, there was no explaining how they could have laid an ambush in Morland Village ahead of time.

Tonight’s events were not just Murphy’s bad luck, this was a calculated trap set specifically for him! Had it not been for the small players’ heroic intervention, his life would have ended right here!

There was a traitor in the Blood Vulture clan!

Moreover, it was a traitor with direct access to the Patriarch’s commands.

“No wonder Tris told me to hurry and run. The Blood Vulture clan may seem to have the upper hand on their own turf, but they’ve practically been infiltrated to the core. What’s even the point of fighting?”

A surge of anger rose within Murphy.

Suppressing his rage, he emerged from the cellar with a cold expression. After instructing the three players to continue searching the village for valuables, he signaled to Maxim, who had tied up the unfamiliar girl.

The two of them, plus one “spare blood pack”, entered a house that was still standing.

The fire on the other side of the village had died down, with only a few dozen minutes left before it extinguished completely. But no one paid attention to those flames anymore, not even the small players.

Murphy handed Maxim the Witch Hunter’s scroll bearing his portrait. Maxim’s eyes widened as he looked at it and exclaimed:

“There’s really a traitor in the clan? It’s hard to imagine.”

Maxim’s words made Murphy roll his eyes.

Hey, brother, you haven’t even gone through the Embrace ritual yet, you’re still human. Why are you constantly going on about “the clan” as if you’re more loyal than an actual Blood Vulture like me?

“The situation has taken a delicate turn, Maxim.”

Murphy said, sitting on a chair with a broken leg. He massaged his temples, methodically analyzing the current circumstances, trying to come up with a solution using the life experiences he had accumulated over a decade of struggling.

He told the tense Maxim:

“The Witch Hunters, those vicious bastards trained by the Old Faith, are notorious across the continent for their ruthlessness and precision in hunting. They’ve caught my scent, and won’t give up until they’ve torn out my throat. If I run now, I’ll be playing right into their hands. The surrounding Witch Hunters may already be closing in on this area.”

His pale fingers lightly drummed on the ash-covered table as the jumbled information in his mind gradually unraveled through his thoughts, like a database sorting and extracting the key data.

This was not difficult for Murphy, a former professional software tester. In his past life, he was accustomed to untangling complex architectures to find those hidden, miraculous bugs. Fortunately, this habit carried over to the other world after his inexplicable transmigration.

After contemplating for a moment, Murphy made up his mind and addressed his loyal vampire servant:

“Dawn is breaking, and I’m extremely weakened right now, unable to travel during the day. But the Witch Hunters are coming hard and fast. The only option is for you to take the Patriarch’s sealed orders to the predetermined rendezvous and deliver them to the Midnight Hunters on my behalf, requesting reinforcements.

My portrait is in the Witch Hunters’ hands, making me their primary target, so I can’t leave.

Take the small path heading east towards Prussia first, then loop around the Anderma Hills from the northwest. It’s longer but safer that way, you shouldn’t encounter any obstacles.

But you must be swift.”

“This…”

Maxim looked hesitant.

He was no fool.

Seeing Murphy’s portrait carried by the Witch Hunters made him realize that staying would likely be a death sentence. He had already prepared himself to be abandoned as bait, but never expected Murphy’s complete reversal.

This left Maxim utterly astonished. His thoughts at the moment were: Could the great Lord Murphy truly be the legendary Vampire Saint, willing to use himself as bait to protect a lowly Blood Servant?

“No, my lord,”

The albino servant immediately shook his head.

“You should depart first, I will remain and delay them.”

“Don’t be foolish!”

Murphy rebuked:

“You witnessed the Witch Hunters’ viciousness firsthand. Those bastards are formidable! Staying here, you couldn’t possibly delay them for long. If you are truly loyal to the Blood Vultures, then you should know obeying my orders is the only way for both of us to survive!”

He tossed Maxim the hunting rifle he had retrieved from the cellar, along with the ammunition pouches.

The weapon’s shape resembled the classic old Winchester, but with an overall bulkier, exotic flair. The intricate patterns on the barrel and the short axe blade beneath the muzzle identified it as a dwarven musket, a high-powered firearm produced by the armories of the Brass Dwarves on the Genoa Peninsula.

In this region of Transia, such a weapon was synonymous with formidable power.

Even stronger vampires than Murphy would be incapacitated for a while if hit by one. With specialized ammunition piercing the heart, it could even temporarily render them unconscious.

“Take it! Depart immediately, my life is in your hands now.”

Murphy tucked the Patriarch’s spirit-inscribed sealed orders into Maxim’s hands. Patting the shoulder of this servant of another family, he said:

“Maxim, you have proven your loyalty. Now I need you to summon your wisdom and courage. Although you are Lord Jed’s Blood Servant, I hereby swear to you in the black night name of the Lessenbra Blood Vulture clan, if we both survive this, I will perform the Embrace ritual for you.

If you are willing, I will handle the situation with Lord Jed’s side.”

Upon hearing this, Maxim’s eyes immediately lit up with passion.

He was a true vampire worshiper. Ever since Jed picked him up as a child to serve the Blood Vulture clan, becoming a true vampire had been his ultimate career goal. But he knew his circumstances, if Lord Jed truly valued him, he wouldn’t have sent him on this suicide mission.

So Murphy’s current offer was something he could never refuse. No matter how infamous Murphy’s elder Lady Tris the “Queen of Waste” was, what did that matter?

Even the weakest vampire was still a vampire!

For “blood servants” like them, just having that status was a victory. Their standing within the clan was a matter to strive for later.

“I depart immediately, my lord.”

Maxim shouldered the rifle, secured the Patriarch’s sealed orders on his person, gave Murphy the Blood Vulture salute, and then strode out.

After seeing the loyal servant off, Murphy settled accounts with the three small players still in the village ruins, “booting them offline” to end this test round.

With only himself and the human captive remaining in the decimated village, he began strategizing anew.

The Witch Hunters would likely return soon. He would regroup in the ruins of Morland, his forces consisting of three novice small players and four “disconnected” small players. Thanks to the “gifts” from the Witch Hunters, he was not lacking in weapons or armor. With proper preparation, perhaps they could put up a fight.

It would also serve as an opportunity to complete the fourth Newbie Guide Quest.

He sat on the broken chair and reopened the forum, intending to chat with his players, partly to better fabricate…no, devise his test plans based on their feedback.

But also, he had many questions that required answers from the players, most crucially: just how did these small players manage to enter the game?

Was it truly through keyboard and mouse controls?

Judging by their agility “in-game”, there was probably more to it.