How to Survive as a Genius Spy in the Game 🏳️

Chapter 21 - First Mission (4)

Chapter 21 - First Mission (4)

Orhen and I rushed out of the tent without hesitation. There was no need to be discreet like before.

It was a futile action in the already chaotic courtyard filled with loud screams.

Fortunately, amidst the confusion, it wasn’t Denif’s voice we heard.

Had something gone wrong while he was dealing with one issue and then another?

There was a possibility. It was one of the anticipated risks.

Denif was still a child. If he had hesitated like Orhen, there could have been a problem.

The situation outside was the same as before.

While heading towards the tent where Denif had entered, someone suddenly emerged from a distant tent.

Messy gray hair that covered his forehead. I recognized the distinctive impression, confirming that it was Jose Demit.

He smirked with bloodshot eyes. He looked like he had just woken up after a heavy drinking session.

“What the hell? There are brats here…”

Demit laughed hollowly upon seeing the dagger in our hands.

“Just some brats, it seems.”

His face showed more amusement than tension at the unexpected attack. Did he have that much confidence?

As I pondered, Denif roughly opened the tent and came out.

I quickly examined Denif.

He didn’t seem injured. Though his face and body were covered in blood, it wasn’t his blood.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was trying to finish one, but the guy sleeping next to them suddenly woke up.”

Denif retorted nonchalantly and spat out some blood. His mouth had turned red, perhaps from the blood getting in.

Denif smirked at me.

“Anyway, I took care of both of them, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

Not bad. It would have been ideal to silently deal with the riffraff and ambush Demit as well.

After all, we had assumed the scenario of the three of us facing one opponent.

His skills and fighting style were unknown, but we could figure that out from now on.

Denif moved slowly and stood in front of us.

It was a prearranged formation.

Nevertheless, I felt a sense of reassurance. While playing games, I had called him a bastard, but now he was an ally.

“Who are you guys?”

Demit furrowed his brow, glancing at the tent and then glaring at us.

It was a contemplative expression.

I didn’t sense any particular wariness from him. Maybe due to his age, he was disregarding us.

Or perhaps he was confident in his abilities.

‘I’d better not rush in now…’

It was a sudden thought, but I held my head down internally. Denif, the first line of defense, also remained still.

Let’s not let our guard down.

Mission failures often start with minor carelessness. It could be his strategy.