NOVGO.NET Chapter 665: Cover Me With Fire!
Chapter 665: 665: Cover Me With Fire!
“Basic technique, that’s all,”
Blank muttered with a red face, tossing Orson a proud glance over her shoulder before linking arms with Sienna and striding into the city.
“The hell? Am I the clown now?”
Orson chuckled bitterly. The two had instantly teamed up against him, leaving him trailing behind. Still, he couldn’t afford to offend either of them, so he pulled his illusory cowboy hat a little lower and jogged after them like an obedient sidekick.
“Quick! That b*tch is trapped—everyone jump in and finish her off!”
“All melee above level 50, join up! Make sure you’ve saved your gold and gear—this big guy eats coins like candy when the battle starts!”
“Kill those Godslayer freaks! Don’t let a single one walk out alive!”
As the trio entered the main avenue of the capital, shouts echoed from rooftops. Countless Maple Nation adventurers were flashing their guild banners and calling for recruits.
“What the hell’s going on?”
Orson frowned. In the distant sky, fire and explosions lit up the horizon. Teleportation gates shimmered and vanished, while high-level adventurers sprinted toward the city’s inner ring.
“This is your idea of a stealth mission?”
Orson immediately messaged Madman, demanding answers.
It took a while, but finally the infamous grumbling voice came back:
“Fk the intel department, man!”
“You know how screwed I am right now?”
“The Rusina president has seven fking body doubles that look exactly the same. You can’t even scan their stats to tell ’em apart! How the hell am I supposed to assassinate anyone like that?!”
Orson froze, then pulled up the guild chat.
Guild Channel:
“F**k me, I got played! There’s no way we’re breaking through with this many Kings!”
“Ugh… barely made it out alive. Took one slash and my soul got shredded. Thank god I respawned at the World Tree.”
“Insane! Eight King-class elites and a pile of S-class adventurers just waiting for us to walk into the meat grinder. Madman, hang in there, man!”
…
“Our intel was off. They pulled back their real strike force,”
Sienna said, brows tightly knit.
Just moments ago, they were surrounded. In under a minute, the assassin squad was wiped out. Now, only Madman and Quarla were still holding on.
“That’s brutal,”
Orson’s eyes flashed cold. The Godslayer assassin unit was known for their insane solo performance. Each member could clear high-tier raids solo and were sharp as hell.
If they got steamrolled like this, it meant they were completely outmatched.
In the previous timeline after the world merge, most governments lost their grip over adventurers.
But Rusina’s President Palensor was the exception.
Though in his eighties before becoming an adventurer, he’d regained his youth post-transition, and with the full backing of state power, he maintained firm control over parts of the nation.
He was one of the few who remained a major power long into the apocalypse.
“Seven body doubles…”
Orson muttered, not surprised. American presidents had always been good at the body double game. No wonder Madman and crew got nowhere—the number alone was headache-inducing.
“I’ll contact James,”
Blank said grimly. As head of intel, James was responsible for this screw-up, and her expression showed she wasn’t about to let it slide.
“Let’s save that for later. We need to get Madman out first,”
Orson shook his head.
Honestly, this probably wasn’t James’ fault. Those doubles likely held divine items, making it easy to evade adventurer scans. That kind of secret was probably known only to the uppermost echelons of Rusina.
“So what’s the plan? Charge in headfirst? I’ll back you up!”
Sienna’s eyes lit up, already raising her Fallen Angel’s staff, itching to start.
Bonk!
“You flicked me again!”
She rubbed her head, pouting hard.
“As guild leader, don’t always go for brute force. Use your damn brain for once,”
Orson scolded.
“If they were smart enough to predict the assassin squad, they sure as hell planned for reinforcements.”
Orson stroked his chin, eyes narrowed. Quarla had already evolved into a Dragon King and even wielded her own King’s Authority. If someone like her could be trapped, charging in blindly would be suicide.
It wasn’t just about firepower—he worried the enemy might hold rare divine items, quirky things with effects nastier than most artifacts.
“Got it, I’ll follow your lead!”
Sienna nodded sweetly, trusting her brother completely.
Then she turned to Blank and whispered, “Watch closely. This is what emotional support looks like. Look at that smug face—eating it up.”
Blank blinked, glancing at Orson’s secretly pleased grin.
She suddenly felt like a naive rookie compared to these two schemers.
Windchaser: “Need all melee and clerics over level 50! Reward: 500 gold each! Our S-class healer guarantees safe resurrections!”
Orson narrowed his eyes at a grizzled, tattoo-covered warband leader on a nearby rooftop—bald, broad-shouldered, and shouting commands.
He was level 56 with an A-rank hidden class: Heavy Metal Warrior. Not bad for a team recruiter.
“Yo, brother! Count us in! I’ll pop that Godslayer punk myself,”
Orson grinned with all the swagger of an American jock.
The bald guy squinted at them, especially Orson.
“Level C gunner? The girls can stay, you’re out.”
“You sure about that?”
Orson grinned wider, casually tipping his illusionary hat and revealing his level.
“Seventy… eight?!”
The bald man nearly choked. He scrambled to check the regional leaderboard. Right there at #2: an anonymous player at level 78.
At this stage of the game, anyone pushing 80 was basically a walking nuclear bomb.
A C-class adventurer at level 78? That was lab rat material in Denoka.
“Brother! Get your ass in here! Squad’s full now, time to roll!”
The guy instantly changed tune and pulled Orson into the team.
“You’re a damn schemer,”
Blank muttered.
“Appreciate the compliment,”
Orson smirked. Their fake identities had been sloppily thrown together, but they’d still managed to fool the Maple Nation system enough to pass as locals.
Just like that, the three of them joined the strike team.
“Target’s up ahead! Inside the Demon God’s Banner field! Once we get access, don’t ask questions—just unload everything you’ve got!”
The bald guy led the charge through winding alleys until they reached a large area surrounded by a glowing purple barrier.
Orson raised a brow. Inside the field, shadowy figures flickered and raw elemental power leaked outward in waves.
“There’s a storage point over there. Drop your valuables or that damn dragon will steal ’em all!”
The bald man warned.
Most of the team didn’t fully understand, but they rushed to the deposit point anyway.
Orson’s group mimicked the others and returned to the captain’s side, who then messaged his guild’s wardens to grant access to the magic field.
A shimmering gate appeared in the barrier, and the warband filed in one by one.
The bald guy stuck close to Orson and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Brother! Don’t worry—if you get insta-killed, we’ll revive you right away!”
He now wore a full set of heavy armor, spewing steam from its joints. The suit massively boosted his speed and strength.
“Cover me with fire like your life depends on it!”
“Fire support? Yeah, that’s my thing,”
Orson replied calmly.
The bald guy’s eyes lit up. A C-class adventurer at level 78—this was no ordinary player.
“Motherf***er! Kill everything in sight!”
The warband roared and charged through the gate.
Orson, Blank, and Sienna followed close behind.
Inside the Demon God’s Banner, chaos reigned.
Dozens of steel buildings were crushed flat. Scorched craters and blood-stained impressions of bodies littered the ground.
Hundreds of clerics waved their staves, frantically resurrecting the fallen, only for them to get incinerated again seconds later by a wave of golden dragonfire—reduced to glowing ashes.
“There they are!”
Sienna pointed to a massive crater ahead.
In its center lay Golden Dragon Queen Quarla, her body battered and bloodied. Her once-impenetrable scales were cracked and shredded.
“F**k!”
“I’m gonna bleed you all dry!”
A thunderous curse rang out, followed by a blinding golden light.
King’s Authority!
Heaven-Thief’s Hand!
A strange suction force spread through the air. Orson blinked, then looked down.
His belt pouch was shaking violently.
The jingle of coins erupted.
“What the…?”
He froze.
Gold coins were spilling uncontrollably from his inventory.