"Don’t be afraid, it’s fine. Just follow me, I’ll protect you."

Blind-Eagle offered a playful encouragement to the middle-aged man with the ID "Protect Little Potato." As the bombardment’s frequency slowed, everyone knew the tense charge phase was near. Amidst the grizzled soldier’s shouts of "prepare for battle" in the trenches, Blind-Eagle loaded bullets into his rifle while asking:

"Hey, buddy, how many special abilities do you have, and what are they?"

"Oh, I have six."

Protect Little Potato made a motion as if adjusting his glasses, yet in the game, there were no glasses for him to adjust, so he could only smile awkwardly. It was clear he wasn’t very skilled at communicating with others, but he still mimicked other players’ actions by assuming an aiming and shooting stance in the trench. He then quietly replied to the eager Eagle nearby:

"Four are related to music, probably because I make a living off it in real life. The other two, one is a spiritual energy boost for the [Artist], and the other, um... is a negative status for a [Sensitive Person], making me more susceptible to negative forces."

"Wow, six special abilities, you’re something else, big brother."

The young Eagle joked sarcastically:

"But your template is perfect for a Bard. You should be mingling with Lumina. What’s up with your ID? Did you just type anything?"

"Oh, not exactly. My daughter is in the game. I heard her friends call her ’Little Potato.’

The middle-aged man’s expression softened to a gentle and doting smile when speaking about his daughter, prompting the nearby Eagle to reflect. Although he was single, he believed he would learn to smile so warmly when he became a father.

"Hey, you have a specialization in music, right? Use this!"

Elsewhere in the trench, Troublemaker tossed a brass trumpet wrapped in a red cloth to Protect Little Potato:

"This Transylvania veteran gave me this, saying to play the charge trumpet. He thought all foreigners could play it. Anyway, I can’t. You’re the professional, it’s up to you!

When it’s time to charge, blow it! You’re not adept at fighting, so stay in the trench, shoot Armed Gnolls and gather experience for skills, but don’t show your head."

"The Gnolls are coming up! Brothers, prepare!"

A player’s raspy voice shouted, drawing everyone’s gaze forward. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

On the smoke-filled, corpse-laden ground freshly bombarded, a swarm of Armed Gnolls charged out of the flattened swamp hideout, joined by some Jackal Barbarians roaring fiercely, their eyes red from berserker skill spells.

Enemies in this state aren’t going to retreat. The only option is to take them all out.

"Fire!"

The commanding veteran slashed his sword downward; gunfire erupted in the trench, and a row of Gnolls toppled forward.

However, not every player hit their target.

Shooting in real life differs from FPS gaming; hitting moving targets without firearm experience requires talent. Yet, after a morning’s combat, the surviving players had calmer mindsets.

They fired continuously, allowing proficient throwers to toss explosives as the Gnolls drew closer.

Grenades exploded, Molotov cocktails painted ground with fiery lines, but the raging Jackal Barbarians and Gnolls fearlessly tore through the blaze.

Those beings were ignited, the pain driving them madder, unfazed by the ghastly terrain, as if in a nightmare come alive. It left Potato Daddy clutching the charge trumpet stunned.

As an artist obsessed with music for decades, he’d never witnessed such a scene.

Not just his sensitive nature—other players’ spirits were taut too. Although knowing they wouldn’t die, players still held profound respect for life loss before confronting and gradually accepting first-time deaths.

Casually put, any first experience is unforgettable with a hint of anticipation and fear.

Troublemaker, the trench leader, keenly saw this. Recognizing the threat of enemy momentum overwhelming them, he signaled Potato Daddy with a look. Yet, the latter seemed absorbed in the spectacle, forcing the Troublemaker to rouse him with a forceful tap.

A jolt awakened him, Potato Daddy recalled his duty under Troublemaker’s stern gaze, hastily raising the charge trumpet to his lips, pausing a moment before blasting. Abrasive tones abruptly penetrated the trench.

Hey, no kidding, as a real musician, he played this tune differently than any amateur.

It’s hard to explain why, but after hearing it, players felt their bodies fill with strength, enemy intimidation and pressure dispelled, and received a [Rage] buff.

The craziest part, it wasn’t imagination!

"Whoa! You haven’t even switched classes, yet blowing that horn gives buffs!"

Beside him, even Eagle was stunned.

As two buffs popped on his character screen, he gave a thumbs-up to the bewildered Potato Daddy, saying: