(Odin's POV)
Here I stood on some random cracked roof inside a city under siege with monsters roaring in every direction and every one of them looking like it could end me with a casual slap.
[If things weren't this screwed, I swear I would've yelled "feminism" and thrown hands with her... she carried me in a princess carry of all the ways to carry someone… for who knows how many kilometres! And ignored me the whole time!]
The air reeked of smoke and copper while the dome above thrummed with every fireball.
The roof jittered under my boots like it wanted to fling me off into the waiting jaws below.
Turning to the platinum-blonde statue of a woman, I grinned like the idiot I was.
"Hey, generic icy lady," I called, voice flat yet grin sharp. "I don't see any civilians."
Before she could answer, Lyra's voice cut in, sharp as the crack of a whip, dried blood still crusted down her cheeks.
"Watch it. That's the captain of the Knight's Order."
"All the better," I said, not blinking, not meaning it to be polite.
Her violet stare held mine.
For a second, it was just the two of us, standing steady while the city shook itself apart.
And a second later, I… blushed away.
Then she finally spoke, her tone flat.
"The civilians are safe. Either in bunkers or at the mountain with the Church of Liora. It's just us."
And there it was — the grin creeping back across my face, teeth bared, like the world had just done me a favor for once.
That meant I didn't have to worry about my rounds over-penetrating and hitting some poor bastard curled up under a table, praying my Ex's name.
[Liora was my ex in-game… and she is somehow here… Same divinities… maybe the same goddess…]
But still, that meant no collateral.
I adjusted the cloak on my shoulders, feeling the weight of the rifle slung across my waist and the sling biting across my chest.
From up here, I could see the endless tide smashing against the knights' line, bodies piling, shields cracking, and still they came.
Too many for bullets alone.
I had about thirty-six rifle rounds, sixty for the pistol, and two grenades sitting like bad decisions.
Not a war chest.
But just enough to possibly win this.
While the real star was perched a safe distance away, shaking the dome one fireball at a time.
I turned back to them and let the grin soften so it didn't look like I was laughing at a funeral, "Got any place big and empty enough to cram all these monsters into?"
Lyra, the mother-hen, jumped in first. "Just use your crossbow thing and kill that shaman."
"You're charming," I said, deadpan, "and that is a very roundabout way to commit suicide. Kill him, and you break the leash on this tide. They go berserk. And even with me here, we do not win that fight on numbers alone."
Astoria watched, expressionless, while a peculiar yet familiar light flickered behind the frost of her eyes as she asked the only sane question. "So how do we win this?"
I looked at her, looked past the flares and sparks and the priests who were singing like they still believed in the impossible...
And I said what I always said when the math went ugly and the gamble felt worth it.
"By trusting me."
Her eyes searched mine as if trying to read the wiring behind them, trying to find the part that lied.
They flicked across the field where knights and adventurers were falling, then to Lyra, who gave a little solid nod, then back to me.
She exhaled like someone loosening a braid.
"Very well," she said.
"Again," I turned to Lyra, "Anywhere big enough to cram this army?"
"The colosseum," Lyra replied without a second's thought.
"Alright." I pulled the broken sword free from the sheath and held it out.
Its worn blade glinting full under the moonlight, "Name's Odin, by the way… not Victory."
"Astoria." She took the sword with one of those small nods captains give when they don't bother with pleasantries.
Her fingers closed around the hilt like she was accepting a lit torch.
"What do I do with it?"
"Throw it onto that tower, by the belfry.", I said, pointing at the tower of what appeared to be a small church near the western walls.
She cocked an eyebrow but did just that.
In a single motion, the sword sailed and slammed into the belfry with a thin burst of sparks running down the blade where it hit.
Astoria turned back, and I laid it out. "Listen up. I'm going to draw every monster's attention onto myself and drag them toward the colosseum."
Facing Astoria directly, I said, "You pull every knight and adventurer into the seats. Give them bows, give them whatever long-range junk you can find. I need the mages to set up a massive magic trap… with layers that feed into each other. When I lead them through, you light it all in one go. Whatever survives, the knights and adventurers finish."
Silence held for half a breath.
Then Lyra tilted her head. "But it won't be enough. This isn't the entire horde..."
"And I'm not trying to incinerate the entire horde," I said, because sometimes the obvious needs a seat at the table.
[So, yes, Lyra. Thank you.]
"Wait a minute… What do you guys know about Orc Shamans?" I asked as the realization dawned on me.
[That would explain Lyra's confusion…]
"Not much," Lyra blinked, "I've only read about them in old records… The last one appeared a few hundred years ago."
"Figures…" I sighed, looking between them, " Look, Shamans are one of the smartest of their kind… and with reason comes fear."
Lyra frowned, "Speak straight, Odin. How does this end?"
"Here's how," I grinned