Early veterans were an entirely different breed from those in the middle and late stages.
In the later phases, with a wealth of illusion data, walkthroughs, and cheap gear discarded by high-level players flooding the market, even newcomers could breeze through the initial illusions of their rookie period.
The early players, however, had clawed their way to veteran status in a landscape devoid of equipment and nearly blind to the realities of the illusions. They'd become seasoned veterans through sheer grit, relying on nothing but their wits and courage.
Consequently, an early veteran carried far more weight than those later-stage frail newbies propped up solely by gear. Any random early veteran could effortlessly hold their own.
Though Ross and Sapphire still seemed somewhat green, the fact they'd managed to become veterans under such harsh conditions meant they were far from fools.
"So, rescuing Miyamoto Rei is secondary? Your real goal, Nightmare, is getting into that car dealership?" Sapphire felt a pang of self-reproach. They'd both seen the same drone footage. She'd only focused on Miyamoto Rei and the Japanese squad. She'd noted the building behind the thugs, but the thought of it being a treasure site never crossed her mind.
Details make the difference. No wonder there's such a gap between us, even though we're both Tier One players.
"Exactly. To get into that dealership for the treasure, Miyamoto Rei absolutely cannot die. A bossified Miyamoto Rei would be far harder to deal with than a bunch of disorganized thugs." As he spoke, Nightmare closed in on the thugs' block. His own figure appeared in the drone's feed.
"Apologies, turning off video. Comms will stay open." Not willing to risk exposing his [Ghoul] lineage if gunfire erupted, he shut off the video feed to the Winged Seraph squad. Ross and Sapphire understood implicitly. Every veteran who survived the illusions had secret trump cards, known perhaps not even to their closest allies. Prying now would only shatter the hard-won trust between them.
A pedestrian overpass stood at the center of the block, now converted into a lookout post and firing position by the thugs. Even without binoculars, the long, straight street offered clear sightlines. Abandoned cars littered the road, but there were no other obstructions blocking the view from the elevated position.
"Stop right there! One more step and we shoot!" Nightmare had barely rounded the corner when the bridge thugs spotted him. Several rifles and handguns snapped towards him.
He paused momentarily, realizing their relative "politeness" was likely due to his innate +30 favorability modifier. But he didn't hesitate. Instead, he accelerated, becoming a black whirlwind charging straight towards Miyamoto Rei's position.
Bang! Bang-bang! Bang!
The bridge thugs opened fire indiscriminately, bullets pinging off cars along the road—loud and intimidating, yet not a single shot found its mark.
Nightmare's speed was simply too great. With near-double normal human physique, his full sprint approached seven seconds for a hundred meters. The twenty-meter-wide, four-lane street vanished beneath him in an instant. Many thugs hadn't even raised their weapons before he was gone; the subsequent shots were just panicked, wild firing.
Clearing the kill zone, Nightmare ducked behind vehicles and reached Miyamoto Rei. He knelt, swiftly assessing her injuries. A bullet had torn a golf-ball-sized chunk of flesh from the side of her right calf, severing a vessel judging by the massive blood loss. She was semi-conscious, fading fast.
"Miss Miyamoto? Can you hear me?" Her dim eyes flickered weakly. Parched lips moved soundlessly. Her condition was critical. Uncertain if he could pull her back, Nightmare decided to try everything. He pulled an aerosol can from his storage space—the topical wound spray from the [USS Combat Medical Kit], an F-grade (Green) healing item.
He sprayed the entire can onto the gruesome wound. The bleeding finally staunched—but that was all. Illusion NPCs, like real-world humans, had purely biological bodies, not the semi-dataized constitution of players. Healing items worked on them, but nowhere near as effectively. Grimacing, Nightmare produced a dark, unappealing pill.
[Suspicious Golden Trauma Pill] Type: Medicine Quality: F (White) Effect: Stops bleeding, significantly accelerates internal/external wound healing. Moderate chance of [Poisoned] status effect. Description: Crafted by player "BaldMonkDaresSnatchMyAbbot." Effects are highly dubious. Requires courage and luck to ingest.
"..." Nightmare suppressed the urge to comment on the absurd description, even though it wasn't his first encounter. Miyamoto Rei, still partially aware, reflexively swallowed the pill placed in her mouth, sparing him the need to force it down.
Moments after the pill went down, her body twitched violently. She retched, vomiting a small mouthful of foul-smelling black blood.
Damn. Seriously? That unlucky?
Instinctively, Nightmare drew his [Meikyo Shisui - River Puffer Poison], eyes locked on Miyamoto Rei's face. Seeing no immediate signs of death, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. Whether the vomiting meant poisoning or not, he wasn't taking chances. He fed her a [Suspicious Toxin-Purge Pill]. Even if she hit the "Hallucination" side effect this time, in her current state, it likely wouldn't matter much.
The several hundred points worth of emergency aid seemed to work. Color slowly returned to Miyamoto Rei's face; her breathing steadied.
Now, only the troublesome thugs remained. Nightmare activated the drone's target recognition. Every hostile human shape in the block below lit up red on the monitor.
Zooming in, the count was clear: Thirty-two males. Eleven firearms total: Three handguns, seven single/double-barreled shotguns, one police shotgun.
Judging by their earlier marksmanship—barely adequate against shambling undead—hitting a fast-moving human target would require pure luck. Or divine intervention.