Kieran's Tactician's Mind processed the chaos in layers of overlapping calculations.
The wolves had already split into three groups—alpha pack behavior, just like in the game. Two wolves flanking left toward the cluster of houses near the well. Three pushing center toward the village square where most of the villagers were panicking. Two more circling right, cutting off the forest path.
Classic pincer formation. Efficient. Deadly.
His enhanced perception highlighted weak points in red, defensible positions in blue, and optimal movement paths in gold lines that only he could see. It was like having a tactical overlay from a strategy game superimposed on reality.
[Tactician's Mind - Active]
[Analyzing battlefield...]
[Enemy Forces: 7 Greywood Wolves, Avg Level 4]
[Allied Forces: 87 villagers (non-combatants), 5 hunters (minimal combat capability)]
[Probability of Village Survival: 23%]
[Probability of Your Survival: 31%]
Not good odds. But odds could be changed.
Kieran sprinted—not toward the wolves, that would be suicide—but toward the largest building in the village. The elder's house. In the game, it always contained the village's emergency supplies, including whatever passed for weapons in a poor settlement like this.
A woman stumbled past him, clutching a screaming child. She looked at him with desperate, terrified eyes.
"Please! Help—"
Kieran ran past her without breaking stride. Stopping would cost him fifteen seconds and provide zero tactical advantage. The child's survival probability was already factored into his calculations.
He burst through the door of the elder's house. Inside, an old man with a gray beard was frantically searching through a chest.
"Where are the weapons?" Kieran demanded.
The elder looked up, startled. "Who—what are you—"
"Weapons. Now. Where?"
The man pointed with a shaking hand to a corner where several hunting spears leaned against the wall, along with two woodcutting axes and a rusty sword that looked like it hadn't been used in decades.
[Items Located]
[Hunting Spear x4 - Damage: 3-6]
[Woodcutter's Axe x2 - Damage: 4-8]
[Iron Shortsword (Poor Quality) - Damage: 5-10, Durability: 12/40]
Terrible equipment, but workable. Kieran grabbed the shortsword and two spears.
"Can you fight?" he asked the elder.
"I—I'm seventy years old, boy—"
"That's a no. Stay inside. Bar the door after I leave."
Kieran didn't wait for a response. He was already moving, his mind three steps ahead.
Outside, the screaming had intensified. A wolf had cornered a group of villagers against the well. Another was dragging something—someone—toward the forest. The metallic smell of blood cut through the air.
[Casualties: 3]
[Updated Survival Probability: 19%]
The numbers were dropping. He needed to stabilize the situation, but he couldn't do it alone. He needed force multipliers.
His eyes scanned the chaos until he found what he was looking for—a group of five men with hunting bows, clustered together near the central square, frozen in fear. The hunters. In the game, they were coded as "militia-capable" NPCs.
Kieran ran toward them, his tactical overlay already calculating optimal positions and firing lines.
"You!" he shouted at the largest one, a bearded man in his thirties. "Hunter's leader?"
The man stared at him. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Someone who knows how to not die. You want to live?"
That cut through the panic. The man nodded.
"Then do exactly what I say. You—" Kieran pointed at two of the hunters. "North side of the well. High ground. You've got clear sight lines to the forest edge. Fire at the wolves circling right—don't aim for kills, aim to wound and slow them."
"But the people—"
"Are already dead if we don't control the wolves' movement. GO!"
The authority in his voice—boosted by his Charisma stat and Tactician's Mind—cut through their hesitation. The two hunters moved.
"You three—" Kieran continued, already pivoting to the remaining hunters. "The wolves in the square. I'm going to draw their attention. When I do, you flank from the east and hit them in the rear. Aim for legs, not heads. We cripple them, we win."
The bearded leader shook his head. "That's suicide, you'll—"
"I'll be fine. You won't be if you don't move in the next five seconds and those wolves finish with the current targets and come for you instead."
The man's face went pale as he realized Kieran was right. The wolves would come for them next.
"Do it," the leader growled, and the three hunters split off.
Kieran turned toward the village square where three wolves prowled. His grip tightened on the rusty shortsword.
[Tactician's Mind - Combat Mode Activated]
[Analyzing enemy patterns...]
[Wolf Alpha (Level 5) - HP: 180/180 - Attack Pattern: Aggressive, prioritizes isolated targets]
[Wolf Beta (Level 4) - HP: 150/150 - Attack Pattern: Opportunistic, flanks while Alpha engages]
[Wolf Gamma (Level 3) - HP: 120/120 - Attack Pattern: Cautious, attacks wounded prey]
The overlay highlighted their movement patterns in his vision—predicted paths, attack ranges, reaction times. It was like having a strategy game's enemy AI behavior displayed in real-time.
He could see it. The alpha would charge first. The beta would try to circle. The gamma would hang back until it saw weakness.
Kieran took a deep breath, and stepped into the square.
"HEY!" he screamed, waving the sword. "OVER HERE!"
Three pairs of yellow eyes snapped toward him.
The alpha's lips pulled back, revealing teeth designed to tear flesh. It lowered its head and charged.
Kieran's Tactician's Mind overlaid golden lines showing optimal dodge vectors, red zones indicating lethal danger, blue zones indicating relative safety.
He waited. Two seconds. One second.
The wolf lunged.
Kieran dove left—exactly 1.2 meters, the minimum safe distance calculated by his perk. He felt claws whistle past his shoulder, close enough to tear his shirt. The wolf's momentum carried it past him, and for one moment its flank was exposed.
Kieran thrust the rusty shortsword into its side.
[Critical Hit! Wolf Alpha takes 18 damage]
[Wolf Alpha: 162/180 HP]
The wolf yelped and spun. Blood matted its gray fur. Its eyes locked onto Kieran with pure predatory hatred.
Behind it, the beta was already moving to flank.
"NOW!" Kieran shouted.
Arrows whistled through the air. Two struck the beta wolf, one hitting its rear leg. It stumbled, snarling.
[Wolf Beta takes 12 damage]
[Wolf Beta: 138/150 HP]
The gamma wolf turned toward the hunters, distracted.
Perfect. Exactly as calculated.
The alpha lunged again, faster this time, learning from its mistake. Kieran couldn't dodge the same way—the angle was wrong. His tactical overlay showed only one option.
He charged toward the wolf instead of away.
The move surprised it—just for a fraction of a second. Kieran slid under its leap, felt teeth snap inches above his head, and drove the shortsword upward into its belly as its momentum carried it over him.
[Critical Hit! Wolf Alpha takes 24 damage]
[Wolf Alpha: 138/180 HP]
He rolled, coming up with the sword slick with blood. The alpha hit the ground hard, whimpering. Not dead, but hurt.
The bearded hunter and his two companions emerged from the east, spears leveled at the beta wolf. It was cornered between them and Kieran.
"Drive it toward me!" Kieran commanded.
They thrust with their spears—not trying to kill, just forcing the wolf to move. It snarled and backed away, right into Kieran's strike zone.
His sword took it in the throat.
[Critical Hit! Wolf Beta takes 32 damage]
[Wolf Beta: 106/150 HP]
[Wolf Beta is Bleeding - 3 HP/second]
The beta collapsed, blood pooling beneath it. Still alive, but dying.
Two down. Five to go.
[Achievement Unlocked: First Blood]
[Level Up! You are now Level 2]
[HP fully restored]
The warm rush of the level-up washed through him—wounds he hadn't even noticed healing instantly, stamina returning. It felt exactly like in the game, that moment when the experience bar fills and you're suddenly more.
But there was no time to check his new stats. The gamma wolf was charging the hunters, and across the village, screams indicated the other wolves were still active.
Kieran's mind was already calculating the next move, the next optimization, the next acceptable loss.
This was what he'd trained fifteen thousand hours for.
And he was good at it.
Twenty minutes later, it was over.
Six wolves dead. One fled into the forest, too wounded to continue fighting.
Kieran stood in the village square, breathing hard, covered in blood—some his own from shallow cuts, most from the wolves. His rusty shortsword had finally broken on the last kill, the blade snapping at the hilt.
[Quest Complete: Wolf Pack Attack]
[Objective: Survive - Complete]
[Bonus Objective: Minimize casualties - Partial Success]
[Casualties: 11 villagers dead, 8 wounded]
[Rewards: 500 XP, +50 Reputation with Thornhaven, Title: "Wolf Slayer"]
[Level Up! You are now Level 3]
Eleven dead. In a village of eighty-seven, that was a 12.6% casualty rate. Brutal, but within acceptable parameters given the circumstances. They'd had maybe forty-five seconds of warning, no walls, no real weapons, and enemies that outleveled them significantly.
He'd saved seventy-six people.
Or, looking at it another way, he'd let eleven die.
Kieran waited for the guilt to hit. For the horror of seeing actual corpses—one was a woman who'd been torn apart, another was the child he'd run past earlier. But all he felt was... tired. And satisfied that his calculations had been close to accurate.
Was that wrong? He wasn't sure anymore.
The villagers were gathering now, staring at him with a mixture of awe and fear. The bearded hunter approached, gripping his spear like it was the only thing holding him upright.
"You..." the man started, then stopped. "How did you do that?"
Kieran looked at him with those calculating amber eyes. "Strategy. Positioning. Understanding attack patterns." He paused. "Who's in charge here?"
"The elder—Marcus. He's..."
"In his house. I told him to stay there." Kieran cleaned wolf blood off his hands with a torn piece of cloth. "I need to speak with him. And with whoever manages the village resources."
The hunter just stared at him. "You're not from here."
"No."
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Kieran almost laughed. He hadn't "fought" at all, not really. He'd just understood the system and exploited it. The same way he'd beaten every other challenge World.io had thrown at him.
"Does it matter?" he said instead. "The wolves are dead. That's what counts."
Before the hunter could respond, an elderly woman pushed through the crowd. Her face was streaked with tears and soot, and she looked at Kieran with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"My grandson," she said quietly. "He was by the well. Did he—"
[Emotional Trigger Detected]
[Response Options Available]
His Tactician's Mind unhelpfully provided him with the optimal responses: Deflect. Provide hope without commitment. Build reputation through perceived empathy.
But Kieran found himself just... staring at her.
He'd seen the well. He'd seen the small body there, torn and still.
"I'm sorry," he said, and was surprised to find he meant it.
The woman's face crumpled. She turned away, supported by two younger women who glared at Kieran with obvious hatred before leading her away.
Kieran watched them go, feeling something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
[Reputation with Thornhaven: +50]
[Warning: Individual reputation values may vary]
[Note: Not all survivors will view your actions favorably]
Right. The grandmother would blame him for not saving her grandson. Others would too. That was inevitable. You couldn't save everyone, and those left behind would always resent the choices made.
He knew that.
He'd always known that.
So why did it bother him now?
"Kieran Vale."
He turned to see Elder Marcus emerging from his house, leaning heavily on a walking stick. The old man's face was grave as he approached.
"That's my name," Kieran confirmed.
"You saved us," Marcus said. "At great risk to yourself."
"I saved myself," Kieran corrected. "Saving the village was necessary for my own survival."
The elder's eyebrows rose. "An honest answer, at least." He studied Kieran for a long moment. "You're not a villager. You appeared in Old Tam's abandoned hovel this morning—I had reports. And you fight like someone trained in warfare, not farming."
"I'm self-taught."
"Then you're a prodigy." Marcus gestured at the dead wolves. "These creatures would have killed us all. The fact that we only lost eleven is... well. It's a tragedy. But it could have been much worse."
[Reputation with Marcus +25]
[Marcus's Opinion: Impressed, Curious, Wary]
"I want to help," Kieran said, seeing his opening. "Rebuild. Prepare defenses. Make sure this doesn't happen again."
And gain a foothold in the village hierarchy, secure resources, and begin his climb. But he didn't say that part.
Marcus studied him with eyes that held more intelligence than Kieran had expected from a village elder NPC.
"Why?" the old man asked simply.
Because I need you to survive so I can exploit your infrastructure for my own advancement.
"Because I'm here," Kieran said instead. "And if this village falls, I fall with it."
At least that was true.
Marcus nodded slowly. "Come to my house tonight. We'll discuss your... future here."
[Quest Update: Find Employment]
[Speak to Elder Marcus - In Progress]
[New Opportunity Available]
As the elder walked away to organize the burial detail, Kieran finally pulled up his status screen to check his gains.
[KIERAN VALE - Level 3]
[HP: 140/140]
[Stamina: 95/105]
[Mana: 70/70]
[Attributes]
Strength: 7 (+1)
Endurance: 8 (+1)
Intelligence: 16 (+2)
Wisdom: 13 (+2)
Charisma: 9 (+1)
Luck: 5
[Skills]
World.io Expertise (Passive, MAX)
System Interface (Active, MAX)
Sword Combat (Basic) - Level 2
Tactical Command (Basic) - Level 1
[Titles]
Wolf Slayer: +10% damage against canine-type enemies
[Unspent Skill Points: 6]
Good progress. Two levels from one fight—the emergency quest must have had bonus XP attached. He'd need to think carefully about how to spend those skill points.
But right now, he needed to think about phase two.
He'd survived the immediate crisis. He'd gained reputation and proven his value. Now came the harder part: converting that into actual power and resources before the next disaster struck.
Because in World.io, disasters were never far behind.
Kieran looked around at the villagers collecting their dead, at the blood soaking into the dirt of the square, at the smoke rising from damaged homes.
Eleven dead. Acceptable losses for a no-warning attack scenario.
So why couldn't he stop seeing that child's face?
He pushed the thought away and headed toward the elder's house.
There was work to do.