Clutching a Flintlock, "Call Me Aku" ran back while turning to fire at a Sword-and-Shield Fighter less than three meters behind him, blowing the man's head open.
Then he kept running, maintaining a steady pace as he pulled a premeasured charge of gunpowder wrapped in oiled paper from his waist and poured it into the muzzle.
The fine black grains of gunpowder glinted in the sunlight, a few spilling onto his bloodstained Leather Armor. He tore open the oiled-paper packet with his teeth, tasting the bitterness of saltpeter on his tongue.
Aku's left thumb deftly pressed against the loading port beneath the barrel while his right hand pushed a Lead Bullet into the bore. In his haste, his index-finger knuckle scraped the bayonet fixed to the muzzle, opening a fresh cut. Beads of blood rolled onto the walnut grain of the gunstock.
Loading on the run made his breathing grow heavy, but the rhythm of his hands never faltered.
Aku pulled a ramrod from the little leather pouch on his belt. It clinked twice inside the barrel, packing the charge down. The whole process took less than ten seconds... This was muscle memory honed through countless battles, a combat trick he took pride in.
Among the fleeing skirmisher players, only a few dozen could shoot while running without slowing down. It was a practical but difficult combat skill. Almost no one besides players bothered learning it, because doing so was sheer self-torture.
With Aku and the fewer than a hundred other players who had mastered firing on the run deliberately hanging back to cover the retreat, the Sword-and-Shield Fighters never truly managed to catch the fleeing skirmisher players.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. Clearly, another bloodshot-eyed Sword-and-Shield Fighter had caught up. Aku could hear the man's labored panting without even