“Bippety bopcha, what's new in gacha, SirSuccess here with the newest video about my third-favorite gacha game, Commandment of Hero, that's right, third-favorite. Third. That number has a lot of importance for me, because I'm my parents' third-favorite child, and I bet you didn't think you'd hear a scoop like that when you clicked on this video.

“But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about, because you'll wanna be paid as much as my therapist is. I wanted to talk about . . . idle features in non-idle games. That's right, Vigilant Patrol, that they talked about during the second anniversary, is finally here.”

From the main hall where officers walked aimlessly over the grand carpet, a press on the Vigilant Patrol button shifted the scene to the top of the walls, looking out at officers chasing bandits and monsters back and forth along the horizon.

“I haven't seen so much as a red, but I have gotten a bunch of Commons and some Broken gear, which isn't bad for the price of 0 Supply, 0 daily chances, nothing, it's free, I'm trying to tell you it's free. So set it up and get to it.

“That's the last of the second anniversary announcements finally implemented in the game, so let's look forward to a bright future for our third-favorite gacha, or my third-favorite. Maybe it's your favorite, or maybe you don't like it at all, in which case, why are you watching this video? It's good for me that you did though, and even better if you leave a Like. What do I want for Commandment's future? Halloween. After that, more story, and maybe a collab, for example with Holy Legend War, which used to be my third-favorite gacha, and I'd love to see my guys and girls in a, uh, what I would call a better game.”

The Rares afflicted with idle fever assembled on the walls, in the bright of day for a change, to plan their first foray into action. Group formation was a simple task for a bunch of Level 1s and a 3 with no gear and the straightforward skills of the lowest meaningful rarity. Or so a lesser mind might think.

“So, I've been wondering something,” said Burmin Trivvis, whose long and shining halberd and formidable plate armor lent every word dignity if not respect. “There are eleven of us, right? And parties have five members, right? So . . .”

“Of course we considered that.” Ulrik's spiky hair, partial plate armor, and sword lent every word the authority of someone who might have been the main character with a little more detail and better textures. “That's why Dennet isn't coming.”

“Wait, what? Yes I am.”

“Dennet. It's simple.” Ulrik patted Dennet's shoulder. “My Skill Star has two passives. One of them increases my Attack and Defense when there are no other Doveskans in the party. You're from Dovesk. You see?”

“Uh huh. And how big is that bonus?” Tramda Olex looked Ulrik straight in the eye, or rather straight plus a load of degrees necessitated by her incurable shortness.

“Let's say more than seven percent.”

“Eight percent! And is that right now? Or at level twelve? That skill is level one for sure. Tell me if it's not.”

“Of course at twelve! It's a 4% bonus currently. Fine. Dennet can come and you can stay.”

“No way! Dennet's at least as bad as you. I just wanted to embarrass someone.”

The ambitious Rares formed parties around their two tanks. Inferno Champion Quille Treten went with Burmin Trivvis, Tramda Olex, Sindze U. Radalo, and Ipons Ulsrada. Quake Champion Clyse grabbed Ulrik, Reginald, Evening Best, and Vinnette Melban, the only participating Medic, though Flood Strategist Ipons Ulsrada offered some healing through his skills. Dennet offered nothing except prayers to whatever spirits are responsible for vengeance.

“According to the anniversary stream and stuff, this mode is just Suppression, but it just keeps going as long as we stay in it,” Sindze said. “I hope I won't be toooo thrown off by the differences from the Story mode versions of the stages.”

The other ten looked at one another and waited for the reveal of which of them would point out she had appeared in the story for exactly one scene, but all of them had decided in their hearts not to delay their new venture by provoking the customary argument. Instead they all selected Vigilant Patrol Part 1 Chapter 1 from the menu.

In Brenlond, near the border with Perandra Regna, the waving grass around the entrance to a considerable canyon greeted them just as it had so many players two years earlier and more every day. The hills and mountains to the west represented hardship, the open fields to the east implied wide-ranging adventure, and the canyon ahead could signify nothing but danger.

“Look at those fields! At, at the sun! And the wind!” Evening Best pawed the ground, sniffed, and snorted. “Farewell, my friends! Never will we meet again!” With that, he bounded east with his powerful horse legs, taking his equally powerful horse butt with him.

“Hey, Dennet.”

“Yes, Ulrik?”

“Wanna join our group?”

“. . .”

“. . .”

“Yes, Ulrik.”

A Quake Harasser down and a Flood Harasser up, Clyse's party ventured into the combat area past where its members could no longer see the other group. Unsure whether that was normal, nervous hands gripped swords, or rather a sword, a crossbow, an oversized pair of shears, a clipboard with a Warper lens resting on it, and a caduceus. How embarrassing for Ulrik and Dennet to wield mundane weaponry, but how much greater the triumph if they one day got alts armed with rocket launchers or portable attack grills.

Clyse advanced with her shears held ready. “I wasn't around back then, so what are the first things you fight in the story? Bandits?”

“Classic, but no.” Reginald consulted his clipboard which probably did not hold a list of Part 1 enemies. “The initial enemies are Scorptures, which are a sort of . . .”

Vultures with scorpion-esque stinger tails and little yellow Storm icons next to them dropped from the sky and launched themselves tail-first, at which prompting the Rares turned and Evening Bested their way out of the canyon.

“Why are we running?”

“I just remembered that I don't know how to fight.”

“They're Storms! I'm a Flood! So is Dennet. It's an incompatibility that could lead to awkwardness.”

“Just hit them! Players did this with a level 1 Cadmos. He was their strongest officer! Watch.” Ulrik grabbed Reginald around his fleeing waist, spun around, and raised his scimitar. “Inferno Strike!” His sword, spewing flames by no obvious mechanism, cut through a Scorpture and vaporized it. “See? They're easy.”

“For an elementally neutral level 3 with triple my Attack in all likelihood.”

“324.”

“Less than triple. My condolences.”

“I make up for it in volume. Intimidating Strike!” Another Scorpture vanished, and Clyse moved up to shear a third while crossbow bolts flew by and all five Rares gained HP Regen at a gesture from Vinnette Melban's caduceus. “There, I reaped two. Now warp something.”

“Oh, very well. Routine Inspection!” Eldritch energies flowed from Reginald's lens and struck the target Scorpture and two next to it, killing none but weakening them sufficiently for Dennet to kill the first target of the three before he remembered to activate his group-wide Critical Effect and Speed Up buffs.

“Math tells us 33% less damage just means you have to hit them twice. Finishing Strike!” That exhausted the three active skills on Ulrik's Skill Star, which exhibited the configuration of 3 actives and 2 passives that beat out the 2-3 type in frequency by a margin smaller than the number of votes Cadmos got on popularity polls. Reginald's Star shared the same setup, and after he Lanmaran Lashed a Scorpture, he tried out his Shift Blame.

“Ouch! Hey, did any of you see what just hit me?” Clyse's ponytail whipped around as she looked for a phantom foe.

“Ah, that's what 'Selfish Redirect' means. I apologize, but you are a Champion. And Quakes have advantage here.”

“That just means they have to hit me twice, Reginald.”

“This . . . is for that . . .” Vinnette Melban tapped Clyse with her caduceus and conferred a single-target Regen that stacked with the party-wide version.

The party cleaned up the rest of the beasts without confronting their own mortality, which might have been difficult since they had none. “Looks like we've got it together,” Dennet remarked, “although when the next wave shows up all my junk will be on cooldown.”

“We're all the in the same boat,” Reginald said as the Scorpture reinforcements dropped by.

“Inferno Strike!”

“Reapers. Honestly.”

“I told you I make it up in volume. Speaking of which.” Inside the Star defined by five skills as its five points, the light of power grew with each hit, accelerated by the Reaper class bonus, and when it filled . . . “Experience my first Nova! Flames of Dovesk!” Ulrik held his scimitar high and imbued it with flame somehow, then swung it horizontally and released a foe-slaying arc of fire which annihilated the entire second wave.

“Three out of five.”

“Can we get rid of Dennet again?”

“Hey, I'm being more than generous here. It's a two-point-six at most.”

“You have two-point-six seconds to live if you don't . . . Hey, what's that?”

“Drops!”

The Rares watched in wonder and a sense of fused satisfaction and astonishment that they had been given the opportunity to see that sight previously reserved for useful officers such as General Wakve or Heartful Azalea, only for that to turn into entwined disappointment and horror as the white gear pieces and Common leveling fodder transmuted themselves into charming clusters of gold coins, the dream of alchemists and the nightmare of officers.

“What happened?”

Reginald looked at his clipboard and ran his finger down the entries, which were unlikely to be troubleshooting ideas for when your loot vanishes in front of your outreached hands. “Auto-sell. There must be an auto-selling option for this mode.”

“But . . . then . . .”

“Retreat!” Dennet started running out of the combat area, and lacking more productive ideas, the others followed before the third wave came for a meet and greet.

They skedaddled past the border, where the other five popped into view next to them and showed by their furious steps and forlorn eyes that gold had ruined their dreams as well.

“Auto-sell!” Ipons Ulsrada shouted, and none could say anything more meaningful at the time than that. The Rares withdrew to Freegate in good order and bad temper.