Chapter 149: Strength in Numbers – The Ranger-Class Tactician

Words : 1350 Updated : Sep 23rd, 2025

Boom! Boom! A rain of crude projectiles-stones, pots, bones, even wooden spoons-came flying through the air, smashing into the glowing figure at the center of the battlefield: a towering angel wreathed in divine fire. Each impact landed with a dull thud, but for the Flame Archangel, a being born of defense and sacred fire, such attacks were mere annoyances. Like brushing away gnats. With one final, effortless sweep of his blazing sword, the archangel bisected the last of the Lizardman warriors who dared to face him directly. His molten gaze lifted toward the horde that had now fully encircled him. Silver-white wings beat once. Sword raised high, the Flame Archangel angled toward the densest cluster of enemies, preparing to cut a fresh path through them-- "Entangling Vines!" A shrill voice rose from the back of the mob. The ancient Lizardman priest had been tracking the angel's every move. At the precise moment the wings rose, he unleashed his spell. Vines erupted from the earth like grasping hands, snaring the angel's legs mid-hover and pulling him down with unnatural force. Shrrrk! The angel hacked at the vines with his flaming sword, severing several with one clean stroke-but they regrew almost instantly, slithering up his body like a swarm of snakes. "Now! Attack while he's bound!" the old priest shouted, sweat beading in the creases between his greenish scales. His voice trembled under the effort of sustaining the magic. Two warriors at the perimeter looked at each other. Then, without hesitation, they roared and charged. Using the vines like springboards, they leapt skyward, each grabbing one of the archangel's wings and pulling with all their might. And then-like blood in the water-more warriors surged forward, climbing over one another in a frenzied dogpile. The angel was quickly swallowed beneath a mass of bodies. "WE GOT HIM!" "KILL IT!" "THAT THING SLAUGHTERED OUR BROTHERS!" The crowd erupted with frenzied cheers and raw hatred. The old priest exhaled deeply, but he didn't relax. "Hold him! Just restrain him! Don't kill it!" he ordered with urgency. "Let it live!" He wasn't being generous-he was being strategic. As a seasoned spiritual leader, he knew how summoned creatures worked. Killing one meant the caster could simply summon another. But if it remained alive and in combat, the caster's hands were tied. The creature would remain bound to the battlefield, draining energy and attention. Outside the gates of the Lizardmen's Smallfang Tribe... Lyle stood calmly, flanked on either side by the Lizardman Hunt Chief and a silent, menacing Hound. Both faced the village with sharp-eyed wariness. Lyle's gaze swept across the battlefield and landed on the dogpile. "That priest has more brains than I gave him credit for," he mused, watching as the archangel was swarmed. By pure stats, there shouldn't be anyone in that village capable of matching the Flame Archangel. "But I suppose at lower levels, sheer numbers can still tip the scale. Hm. Actually working better than expected." A smirk tugged at his lips. Useful data. FWIP! A sharp whistle of something slicing through the air. Lyle's eyes narrowed. The Hunt Chief stepped in front of him without hesitation. THUNK! Blood burst from the Lizardman's arm as a projectile shattered bone and muscle, sending his limb flying. Yet even with his arm torn off, the Hunt Chief stood firm, face expressionless-still under the effects of Lyle's Enthrallment. Lyle's eyes dropped to the projectile that clattered on the ground: a pebble. "Huh. Impressive," he murmured. "You actually managed to turn a stone into a bullet." He raised his gaze and finally saw the assailant: a lithe, yellow-scaled Lizardman with spotted skin, holding a primitive but well-maintained slingshot. This one clearly wasn't your average grunt. "You hurt Guri!" the newcomer snarled, eyes burning with fury. "What did you do to him, human!?" Lyle chuckled softly. "You've got eyes. Can't you see? He's one of mine now." He gestured to the bloodied Hunt Chief, still standing loyally beside him. This newcomer was no stranger. Distinct in appearance and armed with a signature weapon, Lyle knew at once: this was Sukyu Juju, the chieftain of the Smallfang Tribe. If he recalled correctly, in the other timeline, Sukyu was the only chieftain not resurrected by Ainz Ooal Gown. His body had been destroyed so thoroughly by Cocytus' ice magic that even the lowest-tier resurrection spells couldn't bring him back-and Ainz certainly wasn't going to waste premium materials on a lizard. Creak. The wood of Sukyu's slingshot groaned as he tightened his grip. "I am the chieftain of this tribe," Sukyu said, swallowing his rage with effort. "I offer my apology, human." He bowed his head, his pride visibly cracking. "The warriors of the Hunter Band are likely all dead by your hand. You stand unscathed. That, along with the death of our kin, should be enough to satisfy your anger." "I apologize once more... mighty human." It was clearly hard for him to say those words. Lyle knew it well. To a Lizardman warrior, bowing to an enemy was a disgrace. But this wasn't a warrior speaking now-it was a chieftain making a tactical decision. And judging by the magic on Guri, Sukyu's advisors had likely warned him: This human was dangerous-and clever. Lyle smiled again. "Trying to buy time? I don't mind." He casually reached down, picked up Guri's severed arm, pressed it against the stump-and poured a shimmering alchemical potion made from Troll blood over the wound. Sukyu's eyes widened in disbelief. The arm reattached in seconds, sinew and flesh reknitting in full view of the stunned onlookers. "In a real hunt," Lyle said softly, "the hunter and the hunted switch places more often than you'd think." He tilted his head slightly. "You thought you were stalking me. But the truth is-I was hunting you." Step. Step. While they spoke, the old priest arrived with reinforcements, flanked by a full squad of warriors. His eyes flicked toward Sukyu. "Do we engage?" "Human," the priest rasped, "your summoned angel has been subdued. Your greatest weapon is neutralized." He raised his staff and cast a buffing spell over Sukyu. Lesser Agility Boost! "Now!" Sukyu growled, his body suddenly lighter, his muscles tighter. "Precision Shot!" Twang! A new stone shot from the slingshot like a missile. Dozens of warriors screamed as they charged toward Lyle. Clang! The Barghest leapt forward, its bony chains whipping out to intercept the stone mid-flight, the impact ringing out across the battlefield. Lyle raised a brow. "Really makes me think I should learn a proper area-of-effect spell." He stepped back, bemused by the oncoming tide. "Also... who told you I could only summon one angel?" FLASH! A new pillar of white light surged into the sky. A second Flame Archangel descended, radiating divine heat. The air shimmered around its flaming blade. Lizardmen froze mid-charge. "Go." The archangel exploded into motion, plunging into the mob. Its sword tore through flesh and scale with burning precision-one swing, and a half-dozen warriors were bisected, the scent of scorched blood filling the air. "What-what is this?!" the old priest gasped, stumbling backward. "Bastard!" Sukyu roared, eyes bloodshot, feet pounding the earth as he sprinted, launching another volley mid-run. "Meteor Shot!" "Silent Step!" He blurred, moving with shocking speed as stones flew from every direction like sniper rounds. Lyle's eyes flicked to the status window. "Ranger... or Scout?" he murmured. "Haven't seen that class before." He snapped his fingers. The enthralled Guri moved forward, massive body shielding Lyle from the storm of projectiles. "If you're going to play the part of a mage", Lyle thought, "you may as well commit to the role." After all, slaughtering these Lizardmen wasn't the real goal. He wanted their knowledge-their ancient magic, their unique skills, their hidden classes. And if he could feed Lord Ainz's minions some misleading intel for the future while he was at it? All the better.

Chapter 149: Strength in Numbers – The Ranger-Class Tactician

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