First of all, he had to restore the advantage of having a living artillery for his size. The effect might not be instant at first, but over the long run, there was no way that archer wouldn’t be top of the damage dealt, if such a chart existed.

  The question was how? He had his chance when the previous archer was pushed to the edge, but from the look of the current fight, it didn’t seem like that staff cultist would allow the same situation to happen. He was pretty much in melee range to the archer most of the time.

  He had no idea how long this situation had been happening, but it didn’t look good up there. Thinking. Thinking.

  Sidestepping a stray slash, Zalanir released a salvo of earth bolts toward the platform. Perhaps a disruption could do, but he had to grab the enforcer’s attention first.

  After the second attack, he finally caught the archer’s gaze, and without any hesitation, Zalanir made a cross using his arms in front and pointed to the platform. He repeated the action one more time and then rushed to the spot right below where the archer was.

  Hopefully, that archer got this, and hopefully his bet for the archer having a way to stay up in the air. The archer was pretty quick back at their training at the camp, and the fact that he was able to get up there in the first place must’ve meant that some sort of movement skills were used.

  Well, better did something rather than let the inevitable happened. A quick glance showed his mana was still at 54%, which was the same as when he got here. That pecan was such a good gift from the chef. But now, he was about to burn one-fifth of this up in the next attack. Hopefully, it paid off.

  With no one around, Zalanir channeled Sonic Lance, and an orange, long object appeared on top of his shoulder. He gave it the full eight seconds and threw the brimming lance toward the platform.

  Bang. The lance pierced and cracked the platform in half, dropping rocks and to his expectation, two fighters down on his previous standing spot.

  Still kicking? Good. He rushed forward and slammed a barrier into the trying-to-stand-up cultist, knocking the man off and pushing him away from the archer. And just as a greeting — a courtesy for meeting up once again — he gifted the man a point blank earth variant Adaptability Bolt right after.

  “Are you crazy?” The archer pushed up and tapped his armor. Then, the bow just popped from nowhere into his right hand.

  That had to be the spatial pocket that Dakrua had mentioned. Did every enforcer have one? He would surely find one of them in Yebin after everything was done. If he had that, the staff would never be lost to that archer.

  “It worked out.” Zalanir shrugged. “Besides, is this the way to say ‘thank you’?”

  “In hell would I say that. I am perfectly capable of handling that man myself.”

  “Sure!” Zalanir ran to the cultist and was about to unleash another salvo when three explosive arrows flew past him, pierced and blew up the cultist, leaving the man no chance to ever get up again.

  You have slain [Human — Level 46]

  Did he just sneer at me? What an asshole! Zalanir mumbled.

  Then, the archer just did something that normally Zalanir would be in awe with, but not now. Not after the man just killed his new appreciation for the enforcer from interacting with Dakrua. Even grabbing the vertical, near smooth wall and some flipping in the air wouldn’t be enough to change that.

  ARCHER! They really were the worst. No one liked them. What a stupid design of a class.

  Zalanir beelined to Hiina’s spot. Another annoying enforcer. Great!

  The captain and the prophet were still fighting, with the advantage firmly on the captain’s side. Two times already that the flying sword had cut the cultist’s ultimate leader on the flank without him being able to block. That purple magic seemed to be mainly offensive only, as the masked man just dodged instead of forming any kind of barrier or protective measures.

  Dakrua had also engaged with the stag. Three other hunters were helping him there, so looked like it could be good there as well.

  Though where was Hatillup? Oh, in the center. Dunzhia was no longer there, but Gota was still clinging to the Flail Man.

  Well, they were obviously in disadvantage in terms of numbers, but key battles were going their way, at least. Good stuff.

  “Hey, got a moment?” He asked after letting a cultist near Hiina have a taste of five air bolts.

  “What?” She shot two kunai at the same cultist, but that man had blocked them with his buckler. Also, his eyes were on fire when looking at Zalanir.

  “The summoning altar. We have to get there before they complete the ritual. Another stag or a birduomera would be major trouble for us,” he leaned forward and whispered to her ear.

  “No need to worry. Putrieta will kill Wagenner in no time. They will never finish that ritual.”

  “Putrieta? Oh, you mean the captain?” This was the first time Zalanir had heard the name.

  “Just focus on killing as many cultists as you can.” She hopped to the side, retrieved three kunai, and hurled them at a cultist holding a blade.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Certainly, if the captain won, this raid would be over, but what if something went wrong? He still felt that targeting the summoning altar would be the move here. Why put themselves on a timer when the sphere kept growing bigger over time? Was she that confident in the captain?

  “Hey, jump—”

  A hiss, a scream, and pain overwhelmed him. It came from his back and shot through to his brain in an instant, as if his mind was a criminal hideout, and pain was the specialized police force who crashed in through the windows with their guns ready to fire. His mind was paralyzed and failed to register what was going on all the way when his body was in the air until he slammed onto a cultist several meters away from his previous spot.

  Hot and painful. This combo went ham and magnified his current suffering at least two folds. His body spasmed, but lying here would be dead. The cultist was getting up. Moved. He screamed to himself and rolled to the left.

  Barrier. Energy Barrier. Mentally spamming the skill, he got one up in front. Nothing came, but at least he was safe for now. That translucent wall could protect him from the cultist’s attack.

  And it came several seconds later. A dark projectile crashed onto the barrier, exploding and pushing it back toward his spot. Coughing out a splash of blood, saliva, and phlegm, he got up on one knee. Breath became a tad easier in this posture.

  His brain was coming back. It blanked out for a second, forcefully snatching his eyes close from the inside out. And then the whole sequence of events was replayed at twice the speed, from when his vision was suddenly closer to the reflective yellow and gray stalactites above until his body plunged down onto the cultist. As if there was a small explosion inside his brain, suddenly, everything was clearer now. The shock was gone. Thank God!

  Pushing the left foot on the ground and propelling his body up, Zalanir activated Wind Rush and charged ahead. The barrier was about to break. Couldn’t waste this chance.

  His legs were still rioting, but he had to push on now. The cultist was already fully on his feet as well. Rest would come later. And also revenge. Whatever the fuck hit him from behind just now, he would come to pay back right after this.

  He had come to appreciate the energy wave releasing from Energy Barrier more and more. It wasn’t anything flashy, but it always caught the enemy by surprise. Despite being a one-time use only, as the enemy was sure to stay on guard after knowing about its existence, the combination of that sudden explosion and a salvo of bolts would usually net him enough of an advantage anyway.

  This time was no different. The cultist fired another dark magic missile again, and that attack broke the already-on-the-last-leg barrier. Then, after hitting the salvo together with that energy wave, Zalanir kneed the tottering enemy in the stomach, joint-elbowed him on the back, and kneed the man again on his jaw. Another release of bolts three seconds later at the moaning cultist secured him the kill.

  You have slain [Human — Level 45]

  Not done yet, he backtracked to a small empty area behind the back of two hunters and coughed out another mouthful of blood and phlegm again. He had to give himself a thumbs up for holding that in his throat for this long. More than twice he had wanted to throw it out during the fight with the cultist already, but somehow he held. A win. He would take it.

  After reaching out his hands to the back and confirming the armor was still intact, Zalanir glanced at the battlefield. Now where was that motherfucker?

  Hot? Likely fire. Being able to knock his body into the air? Something strong. There was a hiss back there also, if he remembered correctly — it happened in a fraction of a second, so hard to be sure. Oh, there you are!

  His eyes locked on the red-brown stag currently terrorizing the battlefield about fifteen meters away. Its hooves churned the ground into molten veins of light, scattering sparks across the cavern floor wherever it landed.

  Not just him, but other enforcers were also getting knocked here and there. Its left antler was broken in half, while the furs had also lost a big patch on its left side. Dakrua and two hunters were chasing after it, but seemed like they couldn’t really pin the beast down to a spot for long. Had to find a way to immobilize the beast.

  His hands rebelled at his current thoughts. Whatever. That stag had to die for its sins.

  He caught a glance from Dakrua, and thus he rushed forward. The man was thinking the same thing, so it would suck if he let the chef do that alone.

  “Surround it!” Dakrua shouted, and the other two hunters responded.

  Now how would he go with this pincer? He had done this once with Hiina back there when they encircled Eiselen, but the stag was strong. At least Eiselen was just a human who was on her last leg at that time.

  No, the main attacking force had to be Dakrua. His attack was much stronger than his bolt. Sonic Lance could rival, but it wasn’t like he had the time to channel it. His job here was to provide support and nail the beast down. No need to do anything fancy.

  Sometimes, similar scenes just kept on repeating themselves. Wasn’t he doing this same “hammer and anvil” with Lithma for one of Zerkshi’s puppets at that time?

  He being the anvil? Checked.

  A spear user being the hammer? Checked.

  The opponent was physically superior? Checked.

  The attack took place in the middle of a chaos battle? Checked.

  Zalanir chuckled mentally. Next time. He would be the hammer next time. Evolution. Please gave him a good evolution with overpowered skills. Three more levels and a quest to complete, and then he would have much more fighting tools in his repertoire. Hopefully.

  The stag’s roar tore through the chamber like a furnace exhaling its flame. Quick reaction to their encirclement by charging at one of the hunters, but expected. It would be a fool if it had gone for Dakrua instead, so either of the hunters or himself was basically the same. Not too much different.

  Zalanir darted through the smoke and heat, Wind Rush hissing at his legs, his heart burning with the thrill of what was to come. Four meters away, his hand flung, and without any delay, sound bolts charged onto the oversize beast. Not enough to stop the ramming monster, but still managed to halt a bit of its momentum.

  Across the chaos, Dakrua’s spear blazed, a column of red fire tracing his very thrust. The hunter also braced himself on the spot with a glowing yellow aura.

  Hammer and anvil. The absolute requirement for this strategy to work was to have an unbreakable anvil. The hunter alone couldn’t be enough. But a pane of force flared in front, and Zalanir arrived right on time to reinforce the defense.

  Smack! The stag’s charge crashed against the pane, sending ripple like glass under a hammer. The shock hurled him backward, numb arms trembling and butt rioting from another bump into the hard floor. But together with the yellow aura, the barrier held. It actually held.

  His lips curved and failed to hold back a cough and a laugh. Both of them came together at the same time, making him choke on the spot.

  But not that it mattered. The other hunter lunged forward and shaved another patch of fur on the back of the stag with his blade.

  And then the hammer came. Dakrua arrived like a wrecking ball with his column of fire, striking true at the stag’s rear. A scream ripped from the beast as the spearhead punched through and emerged from its chest. The creature convulsed and crashed, like a tree had its base sawed off.

  Zalanir staggered to his feet, chest heaving, as the world narrowed to the smell of scorched fur and ozone. For a breath, the battle fell silent except for Dakrua’s ragged breathing and the low sizzling of the red blood clinging along with the spear.