Dae's darkest hunt: A lesson seared in flame

It started out like any other day in the bloodied history of the hunting grounds. The winds of the kingdom were quiet, the skies clear of clouds, and Dae—one of the most battle-hardened soloists of his time—had just recovered from a series of brutal but victorious assaults earlier in the week. His confidence unfaltering, his gear shining, and his reflexes sharp. He had no cause to believe today would be anything other than just another notch on his growing legend. But destiny had other plans.

Kingdom 379 was where the spark would be ignited. It was not a notable kingdom, not at first. But when Dae looked at the map, one castle caught his eye: an enormous shape lying quietly with a suspicious lack of activity. His scouting reports were brief—5 million Tier 4 troops and 3 million Tier 1s, 8 million troops nicely entrenched. And yet… the lord was offline. There were no buffs. No war gear was visible.

For most hunters, this would have raised suspicions. For Dae, it brought about something else—a strange compulsion to enter. Maybe it was pride. Maybe he thought the account was poorly managed. Or maybe he just needed to feel something sharp again. Whatever the reason, the decision wasn't made with hesitation.

He started the first solo.

The thunder was the impact. His men slammed into the walls, and although they broke some of the T1 lines, the T4 core held firm. The losses were heavy. Not total, not disastrous, but enough to make even Dae think twice. But his blood was still high, and instead of stopping to analyze the battle logs, he unleashed the second strike. And the third.

Each time, the reports came back with the same bitter rhythm—high casualties, low yield. It was akin to throwing rock at a mountain and waiting for it to move. But something inside of him had already short-circuited his sense. This was no longer strategy. This was personal, though he could not say why.

Then, out of the darkness of the main target, a new report also attracted his notice. Reinforcements were coming—from an adjacent castle. A hasty scout revealed another 5 million troops marshaled within, waiting to add to the already-overwhelming defense. Dae did not even flinch. He swung immediately, calling a full scale attack to that reinforcing castle.

It was one of the few bright spots in the entire hunt.

The attack bridged clean, impeccable timing, and the reinforcer was locked in under 30 seconds. Incinerated to ashes. Dae finally exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. For a moment, it felt like the tide could change. That perhaps, through sheer stubborn determination, he'd begin to break the wall down.

But when he went back to his first target and attacked again, the same merciless math returned. Slightly better damage this time—a few more enemies fallen, a few more T1s cleared—but at what cost? Still steep. His own infantry reserves were running dry, and each march was becoming slower, weaker.

He could have stopped right there. Anyone else would have. But Dae did not. Out of pride or madness, he kept going.

One more shot. And then another.

He was no longer battling the enemy by himself; he was battling himself.

Another castle somewhere winked into being—a additional reinforcer headed for the first target. Dae targeted it. No hesitation. He scouted. Weak. Vulnerable. Still stupid enough to answer with assistance. Another strike, and this one was removed from existence within two seconds. A tight, perfect solo, like the old days. The screen blazed in flames.

But the exhilaration did not last. His main target still stood, and the castle seemed as impassive as always.

Dae mounted another march.

Yet more heavy losses.

This was no war anymore—it was slow-motion suicide.

Finally, the finishing blow came, and with a crash of steel and fire, he took the enemy lord. The target was defenseless now, troops broken, castle breached—but at what cost?

His own thousands of elite units were lost. His supplies ran out. His queues battered, tired, and worn. But the hunt was a technical victory. Only… it didn't feel like a victory. It felt like survival. By a hair's breadth.

And just when he breathed again, there was a last surprise waiting in store.

Another castle illuminated. 700,000 troops within. No reinforcements, no apparent buffs. Dae didn't hesitate. His reflex kicked in. He soloed one, then another, and the castle was rubble in under two seconds.

But even that minor victory couldn't lighten the bitter reality: this was his worst hunt in recent memory. The payoff wasn't worth the expense. It wasn't even close.

As he hobbled back into friendly lines, Dae thought about what had transpired. This was more than a botched hunt—a cruel reminder. A warning that even the greatest can lose direction. That sometimes brute determination isn't strength—it's blindness.

He knew better. He always checked equipment, reinforcements, walls. He knew not to fight battles without an obvious advantage. And yet today, every rule had been broken. Not through tactics, but through feeling. He was chasing after something he couldn't even name.

And he nearly paid the price.Bow troops are the worst: condirmed

That night, Dae didn't brag about his lord takes. He didn't show off the castles he burned. He quietly refilled his infirmaries, restocked his barracks, and scowled at his march reports.

Somebody in his alliance chat joked:

"Dae, what the heck was that hunt? You lost more troops than the entire server combined."

He weakly smiled and said,

"Yeah… stupidest thing I've ever done, probably."

But behind that smirk, a lesson had burned itself into him. Never underestimate a full wall. Never ignore your instincts. And never let pride take the command chair.

He'd be back again. Wiser. Sharper.

And next time—he'd hunt like he always had. With purpose.