"Your blood thralls are hardworking and quite tactical. Their traps are crude, but they look pretty good."
After night fell, Miss Femis personally led several Midnight Hunters to inspect the planned ambush site. Lady Adele, her servant, had surely been whispering in her ear, but after seeing with her own eyes how the sixteen little players had planned things out and what the blood thralls had accomplished after a full day's work, the young lady didn't give Murphy a harsh scolding.
She was especially satisfied when she saw the denial trench the blood thralls were widening and deepening, as well as the Automatic Hunter Crossbow mounted on Murphy's carriage. She nodded approvingly.
All this effective work proved that Murphy, an outsider in the family, was genuinely trying to do his job of luring and intercepting the enemy. Even though he'd been assigned a suicide mission as cannon fodder, he was still working with such seriousness. It greatly improved the young lady's impression of him.
Since they were all working for the family's interests now, there was no need to make a big deal out of a few unpleasant arguments.
That was the young lady's philosophy for dealing with people, and a lesson her father, the clan head, had taught her.
"This is only what I should do, Miss."
Murphy replied modestly, then offered a suggestion:
"These traps are still pretty crude. After all, my blood thralls are just vengeful villagers gathered from Morland Village, where the Witch Hunters slaughtered everyone.
"They have plenty of resolve, but they lack technical skill.
"Perhaps your professional hunters and psychics could help conceal these traps, so they'll work more effectively."
"That's exactly what I had in mind."
Miss Femis nodded and quietly said a few words to the guards beside her. Before long, a group of elite Midnight Hunter psychics came into the woods to help conceal the traps.
The young lady held a delicate vampire blade-whip and discussed tomorrow night's attack with Murphy. Pointing toward the Filthy Swamp, she said:
"My hunters and I will hide over there. The Filthy Swamp's miasma will provide us with the perfect cover. Once you've successfully held off the enemy, we'll launch a surprise attack from the flanks and rear, and destroy those military supplies as quickly as possible.
"When we engage the enemy, you and your servants can use the opportunity to withdraw.
"The blood thralls in the convoy will also join the attack, but the carriages will be parked at the swamp entrance. So all you need to do is retreat there to escape with your lives.
"After that, we'll head straight back to Cadman City."
"I see. Miss, you're as clever as ever. It's a simple and effective plan."
Murphy offered a fawning compliment, though he was inwardly sneering.
That sounded nice!
It was as easy as persuading a little kid to cross the street and buy soy sauce.
But there was no way his team could hold out long enough for the young lady's plan to come together. It was obvious she meant to use Murphy and his servants as expendable pawns.
Before, Murphy might have felt a little guilty about setting the young lady and her hunters up. But after hearing her promise him another pretty picture, that last trace of guilt vanished.
You're still making promises to me at a time like this?
Fine!
Then don't blame me for pulling the rug out from under you.
"You've gathered forty-five Midnight Hunters already. That's a sizable force, but wouldn't it be safer to summon a few more tonight?"
Murphy suggested quietly:
"After all, you're a person of great importance, Miss. If anything were to happen to you during the operation—"
"Enough!"
One of the guards barked:
"We're responsible for the young lady's safety. Just do your job as bait. It's not your place to meddle in these matters."
"Oh, then I suppose I was worrying for nothing."
Murphy narrowed his eyes, kept his smile polite, and gave the young lady an elegant nod before turning to leave.
As he watched Murphy head over to join the servants working on the outskirts, Miss Femis wrinkled her delicate nose and said to the two burly guards beside her:
"Sir Murphy is also a member of the Blood Eagles, and he's doing his part for the family. Be more polite to him."
"We've been plenty polite, Miss."
The guard protested:
"Ever since the war took a turn for the worse, you've been away leading the Midnight Hunters in guerrilla defense. You haven't been back to Cadman City in a long time, so you don't know how the people there have insulted him and his elder.
"Even humans laugh at them.
"If I were poor Murphy, I'd have left long ago."
"His elder is Triss..."
Miss Femis remembered the dissolute former elder of the family whom she'd met several times. She had a poor impression of Triss, so she shook her head and dropped the subject.
After thinking it over, though, she said to the two guards:
"Murphy's suggestion makes sense. We don't know exactly how many guards the enemy has protecting the supplies they're transporting. We should play it safe and summon more Midnight Hunters to the swamp!
"Bring our numbers up to sixty before tomorrow night's operation!"
"Yes, Miss!"
Meanwhile, Murphy approached the foxhole where the little players were resting. Eight of the sixteen little players—the students—had already logged off.
Today was the last day of the weekend. They had classes tomorrow, so they couldn't stay up late.
Of the eight who remained, Meow Brother had generously given the four members of his studio the night off. The two middle-aged men, Mud Truck and Forklift Operator, didn't have to worry about going to work. Banzai Happy Stick, who had joined them last, was a freelancer. They were gathered together, talking excitedly about tomorrow night's battle and making their final checks.
When he saw Murphy approaching, Meow Brother—who was munching on a red wild berry—immediately stood up and reported:
"Lord Murphy, we've finished planning the positions. The blood thralls can handle the rest. We've also agreed on the timing. Please summon us twice tomorrow: once at dusk, and once at eight o'clock. Your warriors will fight for you and the grand plan then."
"You've worked hard, my warriors."
Murphy nodded and said to the little players:
"I still lack some materials, so I can't keep the summoning effect going for long enough to let you stay in this world permanently. But don't worry. I've heard where I can find those materials.
"Perhaps soon you'll no longer have to passively wait to be summoned."
Murphy casually made another promise, then sat down with the little players.
The players felt a little awkward about it. After all, the NPC surely wouldn't understand what they were talking about.
But a few minutes later, after Meow Brother finished his berry and bragged about a place he'd visited the last time he went out, making a group of old men share a knowing laugh, Murphy suddenly asked:
"What do 'foot massages' and 'checking out a place' mean? Is that some kind of custom in your world?"
"!!!"
The laughing little players all stared at him with wide eyes, as if they'd seen a ghost.
Damn, this NPC was way too smart! He didn't just understand them—he could even ask follow-up questions?
But how were they supposed to answer such an awkward question?
Seeing how badly the little players were struggling to keep it together, Murphy laughed inwardly while maintaining the composure expected of an NPC. He smiled faintly and said softly:
"I can probably guess from your expressions. There are only a few things that can make men who usually bicker with each other laugh so happily together.
"Cadman City has similar establishments, too, from low-end to high-end. If you can afford the price and are lucky, some particularly uninhibited vampire dancers won't mind spending the night with you.
"Of course, you might have to pay a little extra for that privilege.
"If you ever get the chance."
"Then I've definitely got to see it for myself. I should put together some grand work like An Illustrated Guide to Exotic Women or something."
Meow Brother grinned and tossed the berry pit aside. His expression changed as he rubbed his stomach.
"My stomach feels a little off. By the way, where's the bathroom?"
"Everywhere around you is a bathroom. Find a spot and take care of it yourself. Or do you want me to handcraft you a toilet?"
Mud Truck snorted as Meow Brother got up and hurried away, clutching his stomach. He spoke in a strange tone:
"Does this game really have a bowel movement mechanic?"
"Although I don't understand what you keep calling a 'game,' I can confirm that your bodies in this world are physical projections made from psychic energy, just like other creatures summoned from another world."
Murphy glanced at the berry pit and drew out his words as he explained:
"Free-flowing psychic energy mimics physical matter in every way, allowing you to feel pain and experience all five senses. Naturally, you can also be affected by certain illnesses.
"I was just about to say—the kind of berry Meow Brother found seems to cause severe diarrhea when eaten, according to my memory."
He glanced at the horrified little players and said softly:
"So until you've confirmed that you have some wilderness survival experience, remember not to eat anything you find out there. Diarrhea is only the easiest problem to deal with.
"My warriors, it's time to return to your own world. Otherwise, my poor warrior Meow King may suffer even more from stomach trouble and illness.
"Get some rest and prepare well.
"In the name of victory, I'll see you on the battlefield tomorrow night."
After a busy night, the sun had set the next day, but Murphy was still in the woods, urging the blood thralls to finish the last of the construction work.
Since the enemy might have cavalry, Murphy had also ordered the blood thralls to dig some horse traps. This greatly increased their workload and made them hate Murphy, this outsider on the edge of the family, even more.
But today, Lady Adele, who was at least an E, didn't clash with Murphy again.
Perhaps she'd received instructions from Miss Femis. She even came to the woods in person to supervise the blood thralls' work, and took the initiative to greet Murphy and exchange a few harmless pleasantries.
That suited Murphy perfectly.
As they worked in the woods, the hottest part of the afternoon came and went unnoticed. Just like the day before, under Maxim's escort, Mirian carefully climbed into the carriage where the Witch Hunter prisoners were being held.
Natalie and the other three Witch Hunters were in even worse shape than they'd been the day before.
They had clearly endured another round of interrogation the previous night. When the female hunter was woken by Mirian, she saw the red-haired blood thrall pull a cylindrical object out of her bodice and hand it to her.
The female hunter knew that little device all too well.
It was the inconspicuous little thing that had subdued her in Morland Village. But she shook her head, then nodded toward the bloodied old soldier on the other side of the carriage.
She was telling Mirian to give him one, too.
Two vampire interrogators were guarding them. In her current condition, there was no way she could ambush them both at once.
Mirian pouted, then reluctantly took out her last powerful anesthetic device.
Her mentor had given it to her for protection when she'd left Shaldor University and returned home. Each one had been made by a halfling engineering master.
Her mentor wouldn't have given her one if she hadn't been a promising student with good grades, quick wits, and a knack for getting along with people.
She'd only been given two, and each one could be used three times. They were supposed to protect her against Transia's "specialty"—vampires—but she'd used every last charge on the Witch Hunters.
What a damn shame!
Still, considering the situation and Murphy's promise, Mirian gritted her teeth and crawled over to slip the last anesthetic device into the hand of the old soldier named Norman.
He was in far worse shape than Natalie.
There wasn't a single patch of uninjured skin on his upper body. His throat had been cut open and sewn back together, and it looked as though one of his ribs had been removed from his chest. It was enough to make anyone feel sick at the vampires' perversion and cruelty.
The sight made Mirian's eyes tremble.
She knew that if she fell into vampire hands, she'd probably end up the same way. By comparison, Murphy seemed like a remarkably gentle vampire.
Hmm, maybe that was why his fellow vampires looked down on him? Because he wasn't cruel enough, brooding enough, or cunning enough—and wasn't enough of a vampire?
Thinking this, Mirian loosened the restraints on the two prisoners a little more to give them the best chance of succeeding in their nighttime ambush.
After finishing, just like the day before, Mirian took out paper and a pen and wrote down the plan she'd heard from Miss Femis through Murphy. Then she held it up in front of Natalie so she could read it.
"The vampires are lying in ambush on the edge of the Filthy Swamp. You'll be left at the swamp entrance. Make as much noise as you can to draw the convoy's attention. We'll put two barrels of lamp oil outside the carriage beforehand."
Once she'd finished writing, Mirian made sure with a look that Natalie understood the message, then hurried away. The red-haired girl's heart pounded.
She understood that everything was about to reach its decisive end.
"Give me a weapon!"
She said this to Maxim, who was escorting her to the woods. The loyal blood thrall looked at Mirian in surprise.
"Lord Murphy asked me to protect you. You're not good at fighting."
"I don't want to put my life in the hands of a vampire worshipper who has to count on his fingers to do addition and subtraction below a hundred."
Mirian wrapped her crimson cloak tightly around herself and spoke quietly:
"I don't want a weapon to hurt anyone. If you and your master Murphy fail, at least I'll be able to choose to end my own life, instead of falling into an even more miserable situation."
"You should have a little more faith in us."
Maxim took his Dwarven hunting rifle from his back—the one he'd always kept—and handed it to Mirian. He said:
"You should have faith in Lord Murphy. He's a wise man who's stepped out of the shadows, and he's about to write his own legend."
Mirian looked at Maxim as if he were an idiot and pursed her lips.
"Forget legends. Let's just survive first. If he really does become a legend one day, I'll write a book about him myself, all right? Sigh. I'm teaming up with vampires just for a chance to stay alive. My classmates, who think far too highly of themselves, would never believe it if I told them.
"Who'd believe something like this!"
Before you continue