You're the Worst Batch of Little Players I've Ever Had!

# Chapter 6: You Really Are the Worst Batch of Little Players I've Ever Had!

Ah, time!

In the chaotic first battle, Murphy realized he had overlooked this important factor.

His little players weren't on standby twenty-four hours a day doing nothing but waiting for him to summon them to another world for great deeds—they had to work jobs in their own world too, earning money to support their families, buy milk powder for their kids, cosmetics for their wives, honor their parents, and look after their younger siblings.

Damn it!

He absolutely had to account for this important factor next time!

But now wasn't the time for reviewing oversights. After encouraging his "otherworldly warriors" with an NPC-style pep talk, Murphy turned and patted Maxim on the shoulder.

Though he warned himself to be cautious and steady—Triss was waiting for him in Cadman City, and without him that useless king would definitely starve to death on the streets, so preserving his life was always the top priority!

But for now, when the players hadn't grown strong enough yet, if trouble came, he still had to step up himself!

Fortunately, it was nighttime.

The Mother of Night, who wore both the faces of mercy and indifference, granted her blessing that enhanced all vampire abilities, making Murphy—even with his good equipment—unafraid to engage in close combat.

Receiving Murphy's cue, Maxim—who had mentally prepared himself thoroughly before departure—gritted his teeth and downed a small bottle of red liquid.

Instantly, blood vessels burst in his eyes. Breathing like an ox, he raised his weapon and let out a fearsome battle cry, then charged at the nearest Witch Hunter.

Murphy followed close behind.

Using the proficient-level Shadow Dash he'd honed by skirting walls and his beginner-level Blood Vulture Swordsmanship, he engaged the enemy—though he hadn't forgotten that he was also a psionic user.

So, using Maxim as a meat shield, Murphy unleashed a Dark Psionic Blast.

It sounded impressive, but in reality, it just gathered the remaining psionic energy in his body and hurled it as a sphere—utterly lacking in intimidation.

Fortunately, the engagement distance was close enough!

The moment Maxim clashed with the Witch Hunters, a short-statured Witch Hunter took a dark psionic sphere full in the face from Murphy, who had the height advantage.

The man reacted quickly, screaming as he fell while using "blind fighting" technique to fire an arrow at Murphy—but the arrow bounced off Murphy's chest plate without even leaving a scratch.

As expected of the elder armor Triss's mother had used!

The defensive power was solid!

Seeing his counterattack fail, the Witch Hunter now sporting a "bloody smoky-eye look" drew his combat blade to fight back, but Murphy kicked high, stomping his wrist, then mounted him and drove his longsword straight through the man's eye.

Muscle memory combined with night-enhanced speed made this move exceptionally smooth and utterly lethal—like a venomous snake striking its prey.

Warm liquid splattered across Murphy's cheek, yet this first kill didn't disgust him.

On the contrary, the scent of blood transformed in his breath into a strange sweetness, as if tempting some dark desire within him, making his breathing grow hot.

In an instant, the four canine teeth beneath his lips—specialized for blood-drinking—extended.

Blood!

He craved blood!

It was like ants crawling all over him! Ah, just a little more!

Pitiful to say, because he had repeatedly refused the fat rat feasts Triss offered, Murphy—a full year after his transformation—had never truly experienced a vampire's "blood feast."

The young naturally didn't understand how tempting fresh blood was to a vampire, so his first taste caught him completely unprepared, plunging him into the dangerous state of "blood thirst."

The crimson in his pupils could no longer be concealed; he no longer needed his eyes to see.

A vampire truly entering combat mode could precisely lock onto those "delicacies" through instant perception alone, his movements becoming swift and brutal.

The ancient predator instinct began awakening in Murphy, tearing away his elegant disguise to reveal the midnight specter's truest form.

In this state, he was a real vampire—not the pretentious affectation those hypocritical midnight nobles usually displayed.

The vampire clans, hated by humans and loathed by spirits across the entire continent for nearly a millennium, had survived and thrived not just through their scheming ways.

Power!

Pawa!

The true power bestowed by blood was the foundation of this dark race's continuation, and now Murphy had touched that power, becoming a true member of the midnight power-holders!

"Ah—"

Maxim, also fighting for the first time, had used drug-induced bloodlust to hold off two Witch Hunters, but was soon struck on the arm and kicked away. However, Murphy—now in his blood-thirst state—pounced like a ghost from behind onto the nearest one.

Crack crack—he snapped the man's counterattacking fingers, and amidst the muffled screams, his fangs sank in, letting the sweet "wine" flow into his mouth.

The remaining two Witch Hunters' eyes nearly split at the sight.

Experienced in fighting vampires, they didn't rush forward to kill the bloodsucking monster but instead accelerated their retreat—only to be surrounded by five little players charging in from both sides.

The little players had no formation as they rushed in, no weapons either, relying purely on bare hands and raw courage. They should have felt fear of battle, but "fear" was an emotion players would never have!

As long as it was in the game, there was nothing in this world they didn't dare do!

After the initial confusion faded and the NPC gave them prompts, the five little players' innate rebelliousness was ignited.

The enemy had shown health bars and used a cheap sneak attack to kill one of their own—if they didn't take them down now, what were they waiting for, the New Year?

Under Leading Pigeon's command, they charged like wild boars, pouncing on the two Witch Hunters caught between enemies, using their numerical advantage to pin them to the ground with a ferocity that was truly "man-on-man" tough.

"Crack."

A small player was dragged across the ground by the Witch Hunter, who snapped his neck cleanly. The instant kill made Leading Pigeon, who had been kicked away, glare with fury, his eyes nearly splitting.

"Damn it! Snail! Ah!! Give me back my son's life!"

He roared, eyes bloodshot as he picked up the dead Witch Hunter's crossbow from the ground, grabbed the hunting knife as well, and charged forward, grimy-faced, to stab the Witch Hunter who had strangled his good son right in the heart, then kept stabbing wildly like he was venting his rage.

His combat technique was terrible!

Absolutely no skill involved!

It was a mess, just like a clueless newbie.

But he had spirit!

Fierce enough!

For a fresh player just starting out, that was plenty.

The other three players also screamed and threw themselves on top, pinning down the last struggling Witch Hunter with the same fervor as slaughtering a New Year's pig, until Maxim, dragged by his arm as he rushed over, sliced through the man's neck with his sword.

But even with this overwhelming four-on-one advantage, the Witch Hunter, in his dying breath, used a short spike hidden in his hand to take down a small player who hadn't managed to get up in time.

His ferocity and sheer will to fight were plain to see.

This brief and brutal skirmish came to an end.

The players lost three, the blood slaves lost eight, Maxim was injured, and the carriage was gone, but the good news was that all four Witch Hunters were dead.

And Murphy, as a vampire, finally tasted the deliciousness of blood for the first time.

"Thud."

The half-drained, withered corpse of the Witch Hunter crashed at Murphy's feet.

Coming out of his bloodthirsty state, Murphy wiped the sticky liquid from the corner of his mouth, his expression strange as he smacked his lips, seemingly savoring the taste. Then his face twisted violently, and like someone tossing away their phone after filming a video, he retched and vomited in front of everyone.

"Damn! They poisoned the blood. Witch Hunters, you really know how to do it!"

Murphy wiped his mouth, cursing wildly in his mind.

The Witch Hunter's blood smelled delicious, but in reality, these monster hunters, enhanced by psychic energy, took a special alchemical potion before fighting vampires, letting a drug that weakens vampires flow through their veins.

Such a drug was certainly harmful to the body, but wanting to hunt monsters without paying any price—no world had that kind of good deal.

The only silver lining was that this drug only weakened an inexperienced vampire who mistakenly drank the poisoned blood, but it wasn't lethal.

"Milord, are you alright?"

Maxim, dragging his arm, hurried over and handed a waterskin to Murphy.

The sword wound on his arm was gushing blood, and the delicious scent made Murphy, sitting weakly on the ground, swallow hard.

Maxim noticed this detail. The loyal blood servant gritted his teeth and offered his arm to Murphy.

He said in a low voice:

"Drink, Milord. This healthy blood will help you recover quickly."

"No need."

Murphy said hoarsely, reaching out to push away Maxim's kindness.

On one hand, this experience had given him some psychological trauma about drinking blood; on the other, the small players were still watching. He couldn't let his glorious image be tarnished.

If word got out about such a vile act as using his own people as blood bags, one day a 25-man raid might just drop in front of Triss's door to deliver justice.

"Go check the village."

Murphy, panting as he drank water to clear his throat and suppress the nauseating weakness, said to Maxim:

"See if any of their people are left. I remember the rumor says a basic Witch Hunter squad has six members, so the danger isn't over yet. Take my warriors with you!"

He pointed at the three small players who were exchanging combat experiences and said:

"My warriors have proven their strength and courage. They are trustworthy. Now, go divide the spoils among them, arm them, and give them any valuables you find as a reward."

"Of course, you can keep a share for yourself too. You performed well, Maxim. Your loyalty deserves a reward."

"It is my duty, Milord!"

Maxim grinned, tore a strip from his tattered cloak to bandage his wound, then picked up his sword and headed over to the small players.

He was surprised to find that these warriors summoned by Lord Murphy from another world had already, without being taught, started looting the four corpses.

They chatted cheerfully in their unique language, their bold demeanor earning Maxim's respect. Hadn't they just lost three companions? Could they really face death so calmly?

No wonder Lord Murphy valued these warriors!

Sure, their combat skills were lacking, but will and courage were the finest qualities in a warrior.

The three surviving small players saw Maxim, the NPC, approaching and obediently stood aside, staring at him eagerly, waiting for their reward.

But the language barrier was a big problem.

Realizing they couldn't communicate, Maxim had to gesture, pulling the leather armor off the corpses and handing it to the players, then making an open-handed motion.

The small players understood now. This NPC meant all this stuff was theirs.

"How generous. I thought he'd take the lion's share."

Leading Pigeon said this while fiddling with the hand crossbow in his grip.

The thing in his hand was worn but finely crafted, with an eerily realistic model. It felt heavy and substantial in his palm, nothing like the flashy, texture-only junk in other games.

The arrowhead loaded in the crossbow gleamed coldly under the moonlight, clearly a top-notch killing tool. He couldn't help but adore it.

Even more impressive was the tactile realism—it felt like he'd truly crossed over into another world, his mind syncing with this game body without any lag!

Zero delay. Incredible!

The other two dorm buddies were the same.

One had strapped a pair of hunting blades to his waist using the weapon belts they'd stripped off, preening endlessly. The other grabbed a hand-and-a-half sword, propping it up like a cosplay King Arthur, having a blast.

After all, what big boy could resist the allure of real weapons?

Back in the day, finding a perfect stick was a treasure—they'd itch to find an innocent patch of rapeseed flowers to practice on. Let alone these genuine skull-crackers.

As for the armor, even though it was bloodstained, the players accepted it gladly.

This was gear!

They didn't know if it added stats, but everyone knew the benefits of high defense.

Still, putting it on was a hassle. The three little players fumbled with each other's help for a few minutes without getting it right. Finally, Maxim couldn't stand it anymore and stepped in, personally showing them how to fasten the leather straps.

The white-haired blood servant felt these three warriors were a bit clueless, like city kids visiting the countryside for the first time, amazed by everything.

After they sorted that out, Leading Pigeon suddenly noticed Maxim making hand signals at them. Then the NPC drew his rapier and headed toward the silent village ahead.

The three little players exchanged glances, eventually guessing through context that this was a "new quest."

"Damn, this game is realistic and thrilling enough, but why isn't there even a player interface? No quest prompts?"

Leading Pigeon's buddy "A-Cha'en" complained:

"Is it not finished yet? But that's a basic feature."

"Don't ask me. I don't know either."

Leading Pigeon rolled his eyes, followed Maxim into the village, and caught sight of the shredded carriage and the gruesome corpses inside. Feeling a bit queasy, he turned his head and muttered:

"We can't even understand what this NPC says. Only that handsome newbie guide NPC can talk to us. Who knows what the devs were thinking."

"Maybe it's not at that testing stage yet?"

Another dorm brother, "Spicy Gugu Chicken," swaggered along with the hand-and-a-half sword on his shoulder, feeling like a hero. He said:

"Game testing's gotta be step by step, right? Chill. Look at this insane VR tech—cooking up a player interface should be a piece of cake."

"True."

The little players nodded in unison, following Maxim deeper into the village.

Speaking of which, even though it was early morning, wasn't this sizable village a bit too quiet—

"These rookies. An 8v4 situation, a total stomp where I could've soloed, and they still played like this. Are players these days using their feet to game?"

Murphy, resting outside the village, grumbled to himself.

He'd just checked—player respawn time was three whole days!

That meant even if those four "disconnected" little players came back online, he'd only have seven people to work with. Losing a third of his manpower stung.

Looked like the brute-force approach wouldn't cut it. He'd need to play smarter.

"But hey, the first real combat test is done. Let's check the rewards."

Murphy let out a sigh, ready to treat himself.

Before he could even look at his character card, though, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He shot up in alarm.

The moment he turned around, a deafening boom rang out. A sixth of Morland Village was swallowed in an instant by a burst of flame and a thunderous explosion.

What...

What the hell was this now?!