Chapter 807: December 15th: The Sweets Are Not Sweet
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"No, no, no, aren't those traps way too brutal!?"
Whoosh! That was Payabusa's first remark as he sprang up from his bed.
Since the charge was basically a suicide attack from the start with no consideration for a return trip, and because he wasn't wearing any significant equipment, Payabusa's HP was instantly reduced to zero when he was swallowed by the surprise explosive firewall.
"I see. So it's twenty minutes for cutting straight to the enemy's main camp, huh..."
If a player dies during this event, they are subjected to a "Treatment Time," which prevents them from leaving their base city for a certain period of time.
Despite being killed instantly, Payabusa, who had closed in on Thirdrema, was given a treatment time of twenty minutes. It certainly wasn't short, but when looking at the Kingdom Turmoil event as a whole, it wasn't a particularly long time either. In any case, considering the time needed to prepare equipment, devise countermeasures, and stream all of that to his audience, one could even say it was too short.
"Well, for now, the blitzkrieg is a failure! We really have to set up a proper siege... Ahaha, I guess it's strategy time for now!!"
Even if the player Payabusa died in-game, that didn't mean Payabusa's stream had stopped. Smiling at the floating mirror in front of him, his thoughts turned to the "shadows" not shown... no, intentionally excluded from the stream.
(Now then... They're "going underground" for about two days, right? Those guys are amazing. They're playing a completely different category of game.)
The New King faction's blitzkrieg.
Led by Payabusa, followed by his viewers—and...
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The Thirdrema Underground Sewers.
Three shadows crawled through a narrow waterway that barely seemed wide enough for a dog to pass through.
<<Requesting response, Apple Pie. This is Butterscotch... Successfully infiltrated via Route D alongside Chocolate and Honey Toast. Zero kills.>>
Rather delicious-sounding names were transmitted over the radio as they, stealthily closing in on Thirdrema, remotely shared words spoken from different locations.
<<This is Apple Pie. Reached Route B with Donut. Two guards present... Players, I assume. Moving to kill. Over.>>
<<Ah, sorry, this is Eclair. Currently heading to Route B with Ginger Ale and Fig. Route A is too insane; they flushed poison through it.>>
<<This is Butterscotch. Hahaha, that's bad.>>
Payabusa's charge was not merely a suicide attack.
<<Understood, Eclair. This is Apple Pie and Donut. We will wait five minutes before suppressing them.>>
<<Eclair again〜. I can just snipe them from the entrance if you want?>>
<<This is Donut. I already tried. The incline blocks the line of sight. Don't go suggesting we use grenades during a stealth infiltration.>>
The crucial point was "the complete annihilation of the player group led by the streamer." Even if dozens or scores of people died before crossing Thirdrema's walls... accurately determining how many out of the total actually died was nearly impossible.
<<Eclair〜. A flashbang is fine, right?>>
<<This is Apple Pie. I'm already ready to throw it, so just hurry up and get here. Over.>>
<<Echo, roger roger, one minute left... ah, I messed up, Eclair.>>
For example, what if about ten people had broken off from the group charging at Thirdrema?
The player group led by Payabusa—undisciplined but coordinated—was itself a camouflage. Because they died flashily, because they were killed flashily, a brief window of blank space was created before anyone noticed the truth.
<<This is Fig. Somehow I feel a slight sense of alienation about my name.>>
<<This is Chocolate. That's because you're the one who said no to 'Fried Chicken' and 'French Fries'.>>
<<Everyone else is a sweet, but I'm the only salty one. I absolutely refuse.>>
<<Yup, Eclair has merged up〜.>>
In a corner of Thirdrema's underground sewers, a momentary flash of light and two gunshots went entirely unnoticed. The bullets, accurately driven into their foreheads, ensured they died without even a moment to resist.
<<This is Apple Pie, suppression complete. Over.>>
<<This is Butterscotch. Isn't that a bit fast?>>
<<This is Apple Pie. Eclair dashed in non-stop, so I instantly chucked the flashbang and that was it. Over.>>
<<This is Eclair〜. If it's just two people, as long as I can see them for one second, I can easily land headshots even with my eyes closed.>>
<<Hm. With that said, this is Apple Pie. Infiltrating from Route B alongside Donut, Eclair, Ginger Ale, and Fig. Over.>>
<<This is Honey Toast.This unit is experiencing intense hunger. Overー.>>
<<This is Donut. After I log out later, I'm going to buy cola.>>
By the time the members of the RPA, who served as the practical brains of the Thirdrema faction, realized the fact that "Come to think of it, we haven't seen the GUN! GUN! Mercenary Corps."
By the time the fact came to light that the RPA members guarding the underground waterways had been killed by surprise gunfire.
<<Well then, my sweet gentlemen. Now is the time to hold our breath and hide... Let us meet again on the "Day of the Festival"... Apple Pie, out.>>
<<Ah, right, there's Financie too. Eclair out〜.>>
<<This is Fig... Hey, why couldn't you have remembered that before character creation?>>
The infiltration squad, armed with firearms, had scattered throughout Thirdrema and successfully completed their concealment.
Author's Afterword
At this point, the GUN! GUN! Mercenary Corps hasn't even streamed yet and is pulling off a hardcore stealth infiltration. As a result, the Thirdrema faction is now harboring a parasite within the lion's body (fully armed with firearms) that could detonate at any moment.
Eclair-kun is the kind of dangerous guy who racks up kills using throwing knives and magnums.
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