Every eye in the tavern was now fixed in one direction, drawn to the deep black silhouette standing tall beside the main table.
Ren said nothing and made no move, but his presence was so prominent that it was impossible to ignore. Amidst an atmosphere thick with tactical figures, attrition calculations, and the vague dread of a "war of exhaustion," Ren appeared like a silent chill flooding the room, cold and distant, yet strangely bringing a sense of absolute reassurance.
The pale yellow light of the tavern slid lazily over the Onyx armor, but instead of reflecting, the polished black metal seemed to swallow the light whole. The armor didn't possess the clunky or heavy look of typical frontline knights. On the contrary, it was surprisingly sleek and streamlined, hugging Ren's body like a second skin. The precisely joined metal plates clung to every joint and potential movement, creating a form that was both flexible and seemingly invulnerable, as if any blow directed at him would simply slide off in vain.
Standing in that dim light, Ren didn't look entirely human; he looked more like a dark incision in reality, an existence half-real and half-illusory, silent yet heavy with authority. This mysterious, detached aura, combined with the invisible pressure radiating from him, inadvertently filled the void of anxiety in the hearts of the players around him. They looked at Ren, and instead of seeing a stranger in black armor, they saw a silent god of war, a pillar standing still amidst the uncertain waves.
A few who had known Ren before recognized him by his steady cadence and unmistakable voice. The whispers gradually died down. All eyes were focused, waiting. The unexpected factor was finally prepared to speak.
Ren spoke, his voice low and even, not raised, but enough to cut through all the background noise of the tavern.
"There is no need to establish a separate team just to charge at the target's weak points."
The statement rang out decisively, not as a suggestion but as a fact.
"That method only fragments our forces pointlessly. Crowding too many people into one spot…" he paused half a beat, "…is to turn the formation into a perfect target. A single tiny mistake, and the entire coordination rhythm will collapse. The price for that could be the failure of this raid… or worse, the lives of others."
Silence blanketed the room.
Behind the dark steel mask, Ren's gaze swept slowly across each face, players accustomed to the battlefield and death, then his eyes slid over Rin and her group, cold and alien, as if they had never stood on the same side.
When Ren continued, his voice dropped lower, carrying a slightly raspy tone.
"The task of piercing through that stone armor, which is over a meter thick…"
"…should be left to players with enough flexibility, and the ability to adapt and improvise in real-time to the unexpected situations that will arise."
Rin stood at a distance, watching that figure as it seemed to consume part of the pale yellow light in the tavern. The Onyx armor didn't just conceal Ren's body; it blurred the line between a player and an icon.
She felt the shift in the atmosphere very clearly. The initial skepticism, the scrutinizing gazes, the silent frowns, they had all quietly dissolved, replaced by something heavier: anticipation. No one spoke, but everyone was waiting for him to continue.
At this moment, a word from the player in the Onyx armor was no longer a personal opinion. It carried the weight of a command. A command that rivaled, and perhaps even overshadowed, the leaders of the great guilds.
"Wait… I have a question."
The voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough to slice through the frozen air. A beat of silence fell over the tavern, as if someone had suddenly dammed a flowing stream.
Several gazes wavered. Some turned their heads, some frowned, and some looked annoyed by the ill-timed interruption. In that moment, Ren remained still. He didn't turn immediately. He didn't react hastily. Only the dark Onyx armor caught the light, reflecting a cold, faint glow.
Rin recognized that voice. She didn't need to look. It came from a member of her own group, none other than Kajiro.
Ren turned slowly.
His movement was neat and economical to the point of being emotionless, as if every angle of the turn had been pre-calculated. The gaze behind the Onyx helmet directed itself straight at the speaker, not questioning, not challenging, just absolute attention that forced the opponent to continue or be swallowed by the silence.
Kajiro frowned slightly.
That leisurely attitude… it wasn't just calm. It felt like looking down from a height, causing a vague sense of irritation to rise within him, as if he were being challenged despite no words being spoken.
"You mentioned 'players who are flexible enough and can manage independently'," Kajiro continued, his voice this time tinged with clear annoyance but still wearing a layer of confidence enough to avoid appearing hot-headed. "So, what is the standard? And what happens if they get stuck when the counter-shock activates?"
A logical question. A question many in the tavern had thought of, but only one had the courage or ego to throw onto the table.
Rin clenched her hand. Her heart skipped a small beat, just enough to be uncomfortable. A familiar sensation crawled up her spine, like a premonition of something bad approaching, slowly but surely.
Ren didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched for a few seconds, but it held no sign of hesitation. It was exactly like the moment a blade pauses in mid-air, not yet striking, but already locking onto the target.
Then he spoke.
"So, are you confident enough to do it?"
Ren's voice was low and even, no louder than before, but a degree colder. He clearly smelled the flavor of challenge in the other's words, as well as an excess of confidence, the kind that usually only appears when someone believes they have 'grounds' to be arrogant.
Ren didn't deny him. He had observed long enough. Kajiro's formation wasn't weak; in fact, it was quite strong. If they truly stepped up to take the responsibility of attacking the weak points, then that burden didn't necessarily have to fall on his shoulders.
The thought made Ren let out a long breath, almost imperceptible. Initially, he had prepared himself to take that role if no one else stepped up. But now… perhaps it wasn't necessary.
Ren tilted his head very slightly, signaling for the meeting to continue. Then he sat down.
No further explanation. No regard for the opponent's reaction. The Onyx armor receded back into the shadows as if Ren had never stood up, but the echo of his words remained hanging in the air, sharp and uncomfortable, waiting to see who would truly dare to step forward and prove their confidence.
The tactical meeting continued to stretch on in an atmosphere as taut as a wire. Concentration was tightened to the point that every breath in the tavern seemed to carry the weight of responsibility. After hours of dissecting, debating, and refining every tiny detail, a final conquest formation was established: over forty players, divided into ten coordinated parties, each position holding an irreplaceable role.
At the front line, two parties commanded directly by Agil were placed in the most dangerous position. Large shields were erected like mobile walls, their heavy armor covering their bodies. This would be the primary damage-absorbing force, bearing the full brunt of Fuscus's wrath, locking down the boss's movements, and creating a fragile safe zone for those behind.
The main strike force was divided equally between the two major guilds. The first two parties under Shivata and Hafner, seasoned veterans of the Dragon Knights Brigade, brought a rigid demeanor and the pressure of iron discipline. The other two parties, led by Liten and Okotan, representing ALS, were less flashy but famous for their precision and ability to maintain formation even in the worst situations. These four parties would be the blade that wore down the boss bit by bit, persistent, durable, and patient.
At the rear and on the flanks, the two parties considered the most flexible of the entire campaign quietly moved into position. Kirito's group was among them, a combination that made many players look twice. Asuna, Yuna, Nautilus… and Ren. Names that needed no long introduction. Their mission wasn't tied to a single script; they existed to patch holes, turn the tide, and step into the gaps where the plan began to crack.
Finally, the remaining two parties were assigned to Kajiro and Rin. They were accompanied by five to six independent players, those who didn't belong to any major guild but were skilled enough to survive on the Front Lines by their own merit. These weren't parties expected to hold out long in direct confrontation. Their role was more subtle and dangerous: to observe, wait, and patiently track every tiny movement of Fuscus to find the rare openings within the indifferent, thick stone.
When the opportunity appeared, their entire firepower would be concentrated on the fatal weak points, a strike that allowed for no error, with the sole goal: to end the battle before the attrition crushed the will of everyone involved.