Dawn at the west gate brought exactly the kind of ragtag group I'd expected. The grizzled dwarf—who introduced himself as Thorek—had brought a crossbow that looked like it had seen better decades. The woman who'd lost her son, Mira, carried a sword that trembled in her grip but her eyes burned with the kind of rage that made up for lack of technique. The trapper, Finn, had his hunting bow and more woodland knowledge than the rest of us combined.
Five others had shown up, all carrying personal grudges and questionable equipment. In gaming terms, they were a bunch of under-leveled players about to attempt content way above their pay grade. But they had the most important stat for this mission: they were absolutely willing to int if it meant hurting the Iron Hand.
"Alright, listen up," I began, spreading out a rough map Finn had sketched of the bandit camp. "This is a classic tank-and-spank with a twist. Your job is to be the most annoying, loud, and persistent threat these guys have ever encountered. Draw every guard, every archer, every patrol to the front of their camp."
"And what will you be doing while we're getting ourselves killed?" Thorek asked, not unreasonably.
"Backline assassination. Their archers are positioned on elevated platforms around the camp perimeter. While you're pulling aggro, I'll be systematically eliminating their ranged support. No archers means no covering fire when you need to retreat."
"You?" Mira looked skeptical. "You're going to take out trained killers?"
Instead of answering, I activated Shadow Meld. The group collectively gasped as I faded from view, becoming a barely visible outline in the morning light.
"Stealth gank specialist," I said, my voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. "I can one-shot their backline before they know I'm there."
I deactivated the ability, reappearing in front of them. The looks of shock and newfound respect were extremely satisfying.
"Here's the play," I continued. "You approach from the main road, making as much noise as possible. Challenge them to single combat, demand the return of stolen goods, whatever gets them riled up. The louder and more chaotic, the better. While they're focused on you, I'll be moving through their camp, eliminating threats."
"What's our exit strategy?" Finn asked.
"When you hear my signal—trust me, you'll know it—you retreat immediately. Don't try to be heroes, don't try to finish anyone off. Just get out. The goal is disruption and intelligence gathering, not a total wipe."
"And if you get caught?" Thorek pressed.
I smiled, and for the first time since arriving in this world, it felt genuinely predatory. "They won't catch me. I'm not the same person who escaped that burning village three years ago."
"Confident. I like that in a Sovereign," Nyx whispered in my mind.
We spent another hour going over the plan, timing, and fallback positions. These people weren't professional soldiers, but they were motivated by grief and rage. Sometimes that was worth more than training.
As we prepared to move out, I realized this was it—my first real test of the abilities I'd been grinding for three years. The tutorial was over. Time to see if I could actually carry this raid.
"Alright, contractors," I said, checking my gear one final time. "Let's go get our revenge."