Kazehana's party had a clear composition. Their Arcanist specialized in fire magic, built for raw damage at range, while their Ranger had chosen the Hunter path and picked up skills like Frost Trap. The trap could be set on the ground to slow anyone who stepped into it, but it had a frustrating limitation. It had to be placed close to the Ranger himself.
In the wild, especially in forests or uneven terrain, a Hunter-path Ranger was a nightmare to deal with. They could vanish into the brush, guide enemies into carefully prepared traps, and turn the battlefield itself into a weapon. But this cave offered none of those advantages. The stone floor was flat and narrow, the sightlines short. Frost Trap was practically useless here. Without space to maneuver or the ability to fire a double shot, the Ranger's damage output dropped sharply.
The Rogue Flynn had chosen as his target had learned Keen Strike as well. When Sky-Slasher and Not-A-Bystander charged forward, the Rogue stepped in to meet Sky-Slasher head-on.
Flynn slipped behind him, silent and quick, as his dagger flashed toward the center of the Rogue's back.
The blade cut through air and stopped just short of contact, as though it had struck an invisible wall.
He blinked. "What's going on? Why can't I hit him?"
Across from him, Sky-Slasher was locked in a tight exchange of blows with the Rogue. He shot Flynn a look of disbelief. "You need to turn on PvP mode first."
"PvP mode?" Flynn froze, irritation flickering across his face. He was about to ask how when Amy's message popped up in his interface, a quick set of instructions explaining the process.
"Oh, thanks, Amy." Flynn shot her a quick thumbs-up and toggled PvP mode on. The moment the restriction lifted, he pivoted to the Rogue's side and drove his dagger toward the man's waist.
"Keen Strike!"
The blade slid in with a clean, sharp sound.
The Rogue's leather armor protected most vital areas, and the waist was not an obvious critical point. Even so, nearly sixty damage popped up above his head. For a class like Rogue, that was devastating. Their health growth was mediocre, and at level ten, wearing nothing but basic gear, they only had around two hundred and fifty HP. With attribute points limited to Strength, Agility, and Intellect, there was no way to increase maximum health without special equipment. Early-game Rogues were fragile by design.
Flynn's single strike carved away over twenty percent of his health. Combined with the damage he had already taken trading blows with Sky-Slasher, the Rogue's HP bar dropped into the red.
He inhaled sharply, panic breaking through his composure. Words tumbled out in a rush of half-formed curses as he fumbled for a health potion and yanked the cork free.
Sky-Slasher clenched his teeth. His attack power was respectable, but his two-handed sword was heavy, and every swing cost him precious time. One more hit would finish the Rogue, he was sure of it, but the man had already started drinking. A basic potion restored over a hundred health. If it went through, this fight would drag on for several more exchanges.
That was how the early game worked. No one had strong gear yet, and skill trees were shallow. Player killing often turned into a grinding battle of attrition, both sides chewing through potions and cooldowns until someone slipped.
Just as Sky-Slasher's frustration peaked, a flash of motion cut across his vision.
Flynn's dagger flicked sideways and sliced across the Rogue's wrist.
Blood sprayed. The Rogue cried out, fingers spasming as pain shot up his arm. The potion bottle slipped from his grasp and shattered against the cave floor.
Sky-Slasher's eyes widened. He knew exactly what had happened.
In Age of Conquest, players could adjust their pain perception between five and fifty percent. It was a selling point of the game's immersion system. Judging by that reaction, the Rogue had not lowered his setting. The dagger had not done significant damage to his wrist, but the sharp sting was real enough to trigger a reflex. His hand opened on instinct, and the potion was gone.
Interrupting a potion was something players talked about all the time. Actually doing it was another matter entirely. The drinking animation lasted less than a second. To recognize it, react, aim precisely at the hand, and land the strike before the heal completed required not only sharp reflexes but precise control. Most players could not manage it even if they were trying.
"It had to be luck," Sky-Slasher muttered, though he did not quite believe it. "There's no way someone who didn't even know how to turn on PvP mode could pull that off."
But when he looked at Flynn again, his gaze had changed.
The Rogue, denied his heal and left at critical health, did not have time to process what had happened. Kazehana was tied down and could not reach him. Flynn closed in and finished him without hesitation.
"So weak," Flynn muttered, almost disappointed.
He did not pause to celebrate. In one smooth motion, he turned and closed the distance to the Arcanist. His dagger drove forward and sank into the mage's abdomen.
The Arcanist had been on borrowed time from the start. Amy and Beast-Lover had focused him relentlessly, nearly bursting him down in the opening moments. Kazehana's healing kept dragging him back from the brink, but his situation never truly stabilized. Cloth armor offered little protection, and his health pool was pitiful. Even with careful potion use and constant attention from Kazehana, he hovered at low HP the entire fight.
When Flynn's Keen Strike landed, it simply erased what little remained.
The Arcanist fell with an expression of disbelief still frozen on his face.
With their two primary damage dealers gone, the remaining five members of Kazehana's party faltered. The will to fight drained out of them almost visibly.
Flynn's side was not unscathed. Several of them were in dangerous territory health-wise, but none had been focused down. Let-There-Be-Light moved calmly from one teammate to the next, restoring health where he could. When his healing alone was not enough, potions filled the gaps. From start to finish, they had not lost a single player.
Two quick kills had shifted the atmosphere completely. The cave no longer felt tense. It felt controlled.
Even Let-There-Be-Light, who usually wore a calm, almost scholarly smile, let out an uncharacteristic curse of triumph. Then his expression tightened.
"I'm out of mana," he called, a trace of urgency cutting through his voice. "Hair-Stays-Perfect, Sky-Slasher, be careful."
Health could be restored with potions, and so could mana. The problem was cooldown. Each potion locked the other out for a full minute. Let-There-Be-Light had already used a mana potion earlier in the fight. There were still more than ten seconds before he could use another.
"Relax, we've got this," Hair-Stays-Perfect shot back confidently, his movements were sharp and decisive as he kept Kazehana pinned down.
Kazehana herself was nearly dry on mana as well. As a Holy Knight, her strength lay in support and sustained combat, not raw damage. With two teammates already dead and her mana nearly exhausted, her resistance became half-hearted. A Holy Knight without mana was little more than a heavily armored target. Her attacks lacked the power to threaten anyone.
"You're despicable," she said bitterly. She had been preparing to act aggressively herself, but she had not expected the other side to strike without warning. Losing the initiative had forced her into a reactive position from the very first second, and she had never managed to regain control.
Hair-Stays-Perfect snorted. Through the Universal Translator, his words came out clearly. "If we run into trash like you, we clear it. That's all. I still can't believe the idiots in your village let you reach level ten."
In the heat of the fight, he forgot entirely about the unspoken rule prohibiting player killing below level ten. In his mind, if foreign players appeared in his Starter Zone, he would crush them and camp their respawns until they quit.
One by one, Kazehana and her remaining teammates fell.
In Age of Conquest, death did not immediately remove a player's body from the battlefield. A ten-minute timer began. During that window, players could wait for a teammate to revive them or choose to release their spirit. If no revival came, they would automatically release and reappear at a nearby respawn point. From there, they could return in spirit form to reclaim their corpse or accept a direct revival from an NPC.
Direct revival came at a cost. A debuff called Weakness reduced all attributes by eighty percent. The higher the player's level, the longer the penalty lasted, up to an hour.
Hair-Stays-Perfect seemed to harbor an unusually deep resentment toward foreign players. After the last body hit the ground, he tilted his head toward Kazehana's corpse and spat the insult, "Trash."
The corpse did not move, but text appeared in the air above it as Kazehana typed out a string of Japanese insults before finally choosing to release her spirit.
Hair-Stays-Perfect blinked at the unfamiliar words. "Does anyone here know Japanese? I can't understand any of this."
Flynn stepped up beside him and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Forget it. It's just trash talk."
Hair-Stays-Perfect's annoyance evaporated the moment he turned and saw Flynn properly. His eyes lit up. "You were insane just now. Three kills, and that wrist strike. That was clean."
Beast-Lover hurried over as well, barely containing his excitement. "I saw so many crits in your damage numbers. Is your crit rate crazy high, or are you doing something special?"
A critical hit meant a fatal strike, the kind that dealt amplified damage. A player's crit rate increased with Agility, or Intellect for spellcasters, and certain pieces of equipment could boost it further. Rogues were naturally high-Agility and built for chaining critical hits together, but this was the launch phase of the game. No one had access to advanced gear yet.
So how had Flynn managed it?
Everyone looked at him, curiosity plain on their faces.
Flynn smiled faintly. "Find the weak points. That's all."
"Weak points?" Beast-Lover echoed, baffled.
Sky-Slasher's expression shifted as understanding dawned. "Every monster has vulnerable spots. A Murloc's belly. A human's neck or heart. If you hit those, the system registers it as a Weak Point Attack and converts it into a critical hit. Is that what you're doing?"
Flynn nodded once. "Exactly. You're quick."
Sky-Slasher did not look pleased by the praise. He gave a crooked smile instead. Knowing about weak points was one thing. Consistently striking them in real combat was something else entirely.
In that dim cave, Flynn suddenly seemed different from the rest of them, as if a layer had been peeled back to reveal something unexpected. Discovering and applying a hidden combat mechanic like Weak Point Attacks was not something a clueless beginner stumbled into.
And yet, not long ago, he had not even known how to activate PvP mode.
So what was he, really? A novice with flashes of genius, or a master hiding behind a mask of ignorance?