Late at night on the beachhead, the sea breeze carried the briny tang of the ocean and the lingering smell of gunpowder. Rubbing his throbbing temples, Shanghai Pirate King emerged wearily from the military tent serving as his temporary command post.
The meeting had been nothing short of a public denunciation. Several squad leaders who had suffered heavy losses had surrounded him and torn into him, blaming him for the day's tactical mistakes, friendly fire, and logistical chaos, and demanding compensation.
Shanghai Pirate King was angry and aggrieved. Of those issues, he felt only the tactical mistakes were directly his responsibility. His connection to the other two was merely indirect.
Still, he had no way to refute their accusations... That was what being the boss meant: authority came with responsibility. He accepted the blame for the tactical mistakes. After all, he had ordered the charge and approved naval bombardment to cover the retreat.
But having the blame for the friendly fire and logistical chaos dumped squarely on his head as well left him feeling sick, as though he had swallowed a fly.
He sighed deeply and instinctively looked toward the Mechanicus Cult church, which was still rumbling away in the center of camp. He wondered whether those fellows resurrected with demon flesh had caused any new trouble.
Just then, an unusually wild and excited uproar came from the gap in the defensive wall near the woods.
Mixed into it were the scraping sounds of heavy objects being dragged and the players' distinctive, cackling laughter.
Shanghai Pirate King frowned and walked over.
Passing through the partially repaired gap in the wall, he froze at the sight on the beach. His drowsiness and exhaustion vanished instantly.
Dozens of players were gathered together, dragging several enormous demon corpses onto an open patch of