Murphy, who was usually all smiles, had gotten unusually angry tonight.
The reason was the little players' "reckless behavior." They weren't afraid of dying, but that didn't mean they should go out of their way to die. Their sacrifices after trying to jump off cliffs just because they had wings were truly pointless.
He knew he had to make the players understand how serious this was, lest someone who couldn't tell "reality" from "fiction" leap from a high-rise in the real world later on.
Now.
That wouldn't be something a three-day respawn timer could fix.
It seemed that 66 questions had been far too lenient for screening test applicants. Once he had some free time, he'd have to revise the questionnaire. At the very least, he needed to make sure players entering the game had a certain degree of self-control and discernment.
Mirian had already heard that Murphy was coming, so by the time he pushed open the door, she had thrown a coat over her pajamas and brewed herself a cup of tea.
"I know you vampires are very lively at night, but please forgive me, my lord. Those of us who are normal need to sleep at night."
Mirian said to Murphy, yawning nonstop,
"Is there some important matter that made you wake me at this ungodly hour?"
"Tomorrow, we'll be recruiting 70 warriors from the Saxon region."
Murphy zapped Mirian with a tiny burst of psionic lightning—or "psionic static," as one might call it.
The crackling red static quickly jolted the archon out of her drowsiness. She grabbed at her short hair, which was standing straight on end, but she understood what Murphy meant by his "code words."
Her lord was recruiting warriors from another world again.
And this time, he was recruiting 70 of them at