"...Just as I saw two infantrymen rush at me, I pulled off a slide, swung my claws like this, and then—crack, crack—they split right down the middle, armor and all!"
Beside the campfire.
Junk Collector Level 99 sat on the ground, vividly recounting his heroic exploits on the battlefield. Around him sat a circle of newly recruited rookie players from the Death Corps, every one of them listening to his bragging with shining eyes.
Although his preordered exoskeleton had yet to arrive, that clearly did not stop Junk Collector from slaughtering foes with his nimble tongue.
"Holy shit!"
"Boss, you're amazing!"
"Damn, damn! Boss, can I ride you next time too?"
Junk Collector scratched his nose with a claw and grinned smugly.
"Definitely next time!"
Because of a whole series of factors, including his weight, size, and the "Hands and Feet Like Bricks" debuff, Junk Collector had not taken part in the airborne assault. Instead, he had joined the Death Corps in charging the enemy head-on.
And he had done so as Edge Paddler's mount.
Junk Collector had initially refused, but seeing the other deathclaws lying down obediently, he had gotten curious about what it felt like to be ridden and eventually gave in.
Still, though his body in the game was that of a lizard, he was human in spirit. His fighting style thus retained the habits he had formed as a human, making him feel awkward in every possible way when fighting as a mount.
For example, although a posture with his upper body lowered and tail raised was more suitable for this body, he could never resist straightening up and curling his tail.
As a result, the person riding on his back was equally uncomfortable, forced to lie flat against him in a pose that looked like