<h4>Chapter 101 Asssit</h4>


    n would consider himself a notch above the rest when it came to strategic gamey. His history of navigating through dangerous virtual terrains had bolstered his self-assuredness. However, these mercenaries were an entirely different breed. Their training and experiences stretched beyond the confines of the game. They had lived through real-worldbats, faced life-threatening situations, and emerged victorious. These experiences had honed their skills, making them formidable opponents in any battlefield, virtual or real. Given their extensive background, n had little doubt that each of them possessed a [Sneak (expert)] ability, if not higher.


    The realization dawned upon him quickly; facing them head-on would be a fool''s errand. Without any hopes of outmaneuvering or defeating such seasoned warriors, n made a calcted decision to surrender. He was quickly escorted through a maze of alleyways, descending into the temporarymand center of the mercenaries, which was cleverly concealed in the basement of a derelict pub. The damp walls, low ceiling, and the musty smell added to the sense of foreboding.


    The leader, whose reputation preceded him, was introduced without formalities.


    "Caught this rat spying on our operation," the man who had captured n announced, pushing him into the dimly lit room. n''s eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and they locked onto a fierce-looking Hispanic man, Cachellos. The prominent scar that ran down the side of his face looked as if it told a story of a past skirmish, a testament to the man''s ruthlessness.


    Before n could find his voice, another figure emerged from the shadows - a bald man with piercing eyes that n recognized instantly. "It''s you... the school teacher!" the bald man eximed. This was the same man who had confronted n after his training mission at Port City. Their previous interaction hadn''t been pleasant. The bald man had suspected n''s in-game persona, to be aligned with another mercenary group. And now, standing next to Cachellos, he echoed the same suspicions.


    Mustering up as muchposure as he could, n responded, "No, no… I''m simply a curious yer, trying to maximize my points in the game." However, his calm demeanor seemed to be a double-edged sword. While it showed he wasn''t panicking, it also raised further doubts in the already suspicious minds of the mercenaries.


    Assessing the situation, the bald man whispered something into Cachellos'' ear. The leader, after sizing n up and down for a few more moments, finally said with a tone of finality,


    "Tie him up. We''ll deal with his interrogation once the current mission is over."


    Being tied in such a basement could mean that n might not received any contribution from the mission at all hence to stop such a result, Desperation tinged with a hint of hope colored n''s voice,


    "Wait!" he called out as the mercenaries began to move away. "I have valuable intel. I''ve marked the positions of every scout and patrol in this sector." The gravity of his words seemed to hang in the air, thickening the tension.


    Cachellos, with his sharp instincts, was quick to see the potential advantage of having an insider. He held up a hand, silencing the murmurs among his men. Retrieving a crude map from a table strewn with weapons andmunication devices, he spread it out, and thrust a knife into n''s hands. "Show me," he demanded.


    With swift and precise movements, n began to mark points on the map. As he did, it became clear to Cachellos and his men that n''s information was not just corroborative but also contained details they hadn''t been privy to. Every mark he made was a testament to his thorough reconnaissance and intimate knowledge of the area.


    Cachellos, though maintaining a poker face, shot a nce at the bald man, who was evidently the chief scout of the mercenary group. The bald man, trusting his leader''s instincts, immediately sprinted out to verify the intel provided by n.


    Seeing an opportunity, n pressed on. "I''m familiar with thepound''syout. I''ve been inside. Allow me to join your mission. It could make the difference," he said, his voice filled with earnestness.


    Before Cachellos could respond, a burst of static from a nearby radio interrupted the room. The voice on the other end reported, "US military forces are on the move."


    Cachellos growled, his temper rising. He directed his fiery gaze at n, "Because of your interference, we''regging behind. You''ve ced us in a tight spot. If you''re as good as your word, you better ensure we seed, or it''ll be on your head."


    n met Cachellos''s steely gaze with equal determination, "Yes, I will," he affirmed resolutely.


    And just like that, amidst the murky shades of trust and suspicion, n found himself integrated into the core of the rescue mission, marching shoulder to shoulder with some of the deadliest mercenaries in the game.


    Emerging from the dimly lit basement into the open, n took in the formidable sight before him. A team of twenty robust mercenaries, d in darkbat attire, were organizing their arsenal. Their mere presence radiated an intense aura, testifying to their lethal capabilities.


    Prominent among this elite squad were the celebrated veterans, whose reputations even n, a rtive neer, was well acquainted with.


    Cade ''Archer'' Harlow stood tall, his lean physique contrasting with the sturdy steel longbow slung over his back. His eyes scanned the surroundings, always alert. Beside him, Fin ''Force'' Maddox cracked his knuckles in anticipation. Known for his brutal close-quarterbat skills, he exuded an air of confidence. And Nash ''Tempest'' Rourke, fingers already swirling in intricate patterns, was the team''s magic user.


    While n had often heard tales of these three, two others remained enigmas. Their faces were unfamiliar, but their poised stances signified they were no less important or skilled than the rest.


    Beyond these, n noted the discreet silhouettes of scouts and snipers. These shadows moved stealthily, upying vantage points and ensuring no surprises would befall the main team.


    Cachellos broke the momentary silence. His deep voice carried the weight of many battles, "Time is running short. We need to act now!" His words served as a grim reminder of the timer running down on the lives of the prisoners.


    "Let''s move out! We won''t let them gain another second," Cachellos barked, rallying his unit with fervor.


    The veteran''s rallying cry galvanized the mercenaries. They surged forward, moving with a precision only achieved through years of training and countless battles. Like phantoms, those in hiding struck from the shadows, taking out the Nazi sharpshooters with silent efficiency.


    Led by n, the group weaved a path through the maze-likepound. The terrain was treacherous – a 300-meter stretch of open fieldy between them and the main building. Yet, they traversed it with grace, keeping low and utilizing every scrap of cover, evading the prying eyes of the guards stationed within thepound.


    While the US military diverted attention at the yard, the mercenaries set their sights on the main lobby. The sess of the mission hinged on perfect synchronization; both teams needed to be in position beforeunching the full-scale assault. n, tapping into his in-depth knowledge of thepound, advised on optimal entry points and strategic positions for incapacitating the enemy.


    He watched them, envy evident in his eyes. The cohesive unit functioned like a well-oiled machine, showcasing their individual abilities whileplementing one another.


    However, their meticulouslyid ns quickly went awry. The ring of rms cut through the night, sending thepound into a frenzy. Confusion erupted over thems.


    "What happened? Who''s been spotted?"


    Amidst the chaos, a report came in. A horde of yers, approximately a hundred strong, stormed the southern gates, guns zing, showing no signs of subtlety or strategy. "It''s the Blood Patriots!" a scout shouted.


    n''s heart sank. Thest time he undertook this mission, the Blood Patriots had been absent. Their sudden, reckless intrusion was a game-changer. The situation was evolving rapidly.


    A new notification popped up, intensifying the urgency:


    [Your level D quest - Free captured yers has been updated]


    [Nazi soldiers will execute all prisoners in 10 minutes].


    The ticking clock, already a pressing concern, was now a death knell. The margin for error had shrunk to nothing.


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