Before the battle:
James and Kurothrax stood in the cave, the HUD display visible only to James. The dark elf village was under attack, and they needed a plan.
"We need to act, but only when things are set up right," James said, thoughts spiraling in his head. "The village is under attack. Timing is everything. I have to gain their trust and fast; they need a hero. If we swoop in when this timer is done, I can act like I built the walls out of nothing."
Kurothrax tilted his massive head, curiosity mingling with skepticism. "Very well, but you are no hero."
James smiled, determination in his eyes. "I just need to seem like a hero. I'll need to borrow some armor and a sword."
Kurothrax grumbled. "You can't use your real name, though."
James frowned, confused. "Why not?"
"A name means much to Dark Elves," Kurothrax explained. "It carries power and history. You'll need a name that they recognize and revere."
James thought for a moment. "I need a magician, I need a commander, I need a dragon rider."
Kurothrax's eyes gleamed with a hint of nostalgia. "Vaelith Duskweaver. He was a legend, a master of magic and a brilliant strategist. A great dragon rider, he disappeared from the world, him and his dragon."
James nodded, understanding the significance. "Then that's the name I'll use. Vaelith Duskweaver."
Kurothrax rumbled in indignation. "You could use a similar name; no one is going to believe that you are him."
"Desperate people will believe anything." James smirked, then realized that he just smirked at suffering people... Elves? Stop with the semantics! This isn't a game.
Flying on Kurothrax:
James clung to the makeshift strap, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die," he muttered, the words a mantra against the fear surging through him. He had never flown on a dragon before and thought that raising a sword high would look heroic, but only sheer terror kept the weapon from flying out of his hand. He was tied in but was doubting the knots.
The wind whipped around him, and he forced himself to focus. This was his chance to make an entrance.
James and Kurothrax soared through the sky, the HUD displaying the chaotic scene below. His legs felt like jelly as they descended, and he struggled to maintain his balance and composure. He saw the dark elf village under attack, hobgoblins and their wolf mounts swarming the defenders.
As they landed, James saw the timers on his HUD were about to expire. He raised his voice, trying to sound commanding. "I'm taking over command!" he yelled, his voice strong despite his nerves.
He quickly accessed his HUD and saw the defensive structures he had initiated were seconds from completion. Timing this perfectly, he waved his hand, acting like he was commanding the structures up out of thin air. Stone walls appeared, archer nests formed, and watchtowers sprang up, creating an impressive display of "magic."
Holding onto the... zero food in his stomach, James made his way up the stairs of the rampart. He quickly took over command, analyzing everyone. The problem was that the villagers were just numbered. Son of a bitch, I don't have any way of knowing their names so they don't show up. But stats and skills did show up, thank Dionysius ha. He could do this, think about it like a game.
James directed the defense, using the HUD to monitor the battle and make quick decisions. He called out villagers and told them their numbers to reply to, feeling the power of his new role.
"No time for names... seven, go to the archer's nest!" he shouted, at one of the villagers.
"Sir, you don't—" another villager tried to protest, but James cut her off.
"Two, I need you to do area-of-effect spells to weaken the line," he commanded.
The villagers, though confused, followed his orders. James watched as the black dragon swooped down, breathing fire and scattering the attackers. He felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing the plan was working.
The hobgoblins and their wolf mounts, in a desperate attempt to escape the black dragon, launched a renewed attack on the village. James's HUD provided real-time updates, allowing him to adapt his strategy on the fly.
"Hold the line, ten through twenty-five! Set the traps now, eight and nine!" he commanded, his voice steady and confident.
Then it was over. The hobgoblins scattered in every direction, looking less like an army and more like a group of rats being caught.
The village successfully repelled the attack, but not without casualties. James felt a pang of guilt as he saw the lifeless bodies of the fallen villagers. He could have been there earlier, and these were the consequences. But he needed the advantage. He took a deep breath and approached the surviving defenders, feeling the weight of their gazes.
"We did it, but there's a lot of work ahead," James said, determination etched in his voice.
Kurothrax landed beside him, his massive form casting a long shadow. "Your strategy was effective. I underestimated you," the dragon rumbled.
James removed his helmet, revealing his dark elf face. He noticed the surprise and awe in the eyes of the villagers.
"I am not just any commander. My name is Vaelith Duskweaver, a name from your legends. Together, we will rebuild and defend this village," James declared.
The villagers murmured in awe, recognizing the legendary name and feeling a sense of hope and pride.
"Vaelith Duskweaver... Could it really be him?" James heard one villager whisper to another.
James stood tall, feeling a growing sense of responsibility and determination. This was his chance to make a difference, to become the leader he never got the chance to be in the real world. He needed to stop thinking of it as the real world.