Helper - Rf Online

“And you called me ?”

“Location: Sector 4C, collapsed mining trench. Signal: Distress, non-combat.”

The surface of Novus, near the border of the Cora and Bellato territories. The Holy Alliance’s crystalline spires glow faintly in the distance, while the Accretian Empire’s mining fortresses scar the horizon.

The Cora mystic looked up. Her eyes glowed faintly. “We can argue about territory after the bleeding stops.” rf online helper

He was a veteran of the Bellato Federation’s mechanized corps, now serving as a field guide—someone who kept new recruits from getting their brains melted by a Cora psychic or their limbs crushed by an Accretian war machine. The request came from a rookie callsign: .

He mounted his hoverbike and sped across the rust-colored plains. The air tasted of ozone and refined ore. Halfway there, his sensors picked up two other signatures converging on the same coordinates: a sleek Cora skiff and a heavy Accretian logistics walker.

The Accretian’s vocoder crackled. “Statement: Biological preservation is not illogical. Temporary truce is efficient.” “And you called me

Kaelen sighed and checked his railgun. “Non-combat” in RF Online usually meant someone had run out of battery cores, gotten their MAU stuck in a crevice, or—worst of all—wandered into a neutral zone being contested by all three races.

“You’re the helper,” Lise said. “You know the neutral codes. You know how to talk to all three factions.”

He mounted his bike and rode back toward the Bellato outpost, leaving the three factions to redraw their battle lines another day. The Cora mystic looked up

Great. A three-way meet.

The Accretian unit turned. “Conclusion: This sector remains contested. But this unit logs an anomaly: assistance received from biologicals. Marking for review.”

As dawn broke over Novus, the three groups withdrew to their own lines. The Cora mystic paused, glancing back. “You Bellato are still fools,” she said. “But you’re not savages.”

Three nods. One from each race.