Chapter 113: War (Part Eight)
Earl Robert, commander of the Allied Forces, watched the aerial battle with growing tension.
“Sir,” whispered the Staff Officer, “should we deploy the Dragon-Slaying Trebuchet to support the Northwind Eagle Guard? Those Two-Headed Dragons won’t withstand our Crossbow Bolts.”
“No,” Robert said, his voice heavy. “Continue maintaining Alert status.”
The Northwind Eagle Guard was his most vital asset—but doubt gnawed at him. That Red Dragon, the Chieftain of Ashen Hollow, had not appeared since the war began.
Any rational mind could deduce: a being capable of raising such a force could not be an ordinary Young Red Dragon.
Robert could only pray in silence, hoping the Dragon-Slaying Trebuchet would prove effective against the beast yet to show itself.
“We must wait… until the Red Dragon appears.”
Sweat dripped from Robert’s brow. Since when had the air in Tiriel Valley grown so thick, so unnaturally hot? It no longer carried the crisp, clean breath of the highlands.
“Yes, sir,” the Staff Officer replied, retreating with a reluctant bow.
Above, below—tens of thousands of Humans and Monsters clashed in chaotic, blood-soaked frenzy.
A Bear Goliath swung his spiked club, crushing the skull of a Pike and Shield Infantryman. Brain matter splattered across the ground. But the fallen warrior’s comrades—archers behind him—fired in unison, riddling the giant with arrows until he resembled a living porcupine.
Then, the Two-Headed Dragon plummeted from above, its tail spiked with venomous barbs, spearing the archers through and through.
But the Northwind Eagle Guard struck from behind—diving in with lances, piercing the dragon’s most vulnerable neck.
“I’ll crush you all!” Dolo roared, charging forward once more, his Bloodfire Battle Axe swinging with brutal force.
The Great Goblin had tasted victory on the battlefield. He knew—right now—he was a terror unleashed.
But this time, his axe met resistance. A thick shield blocked the blow. He strained, muscles taut, before wrenching the weapon free.
“For order—stand firm!”
Before him stood seven warriors clad in silver-white plate armor—Paladins of the Bosk Family, sworn to the “Crown’s Oath.” At their head, a man bathed in a protective Guardian Aura—none other than the famed White Lion Knight Tariq. He alone had stopped Dolo’s charge.
They had come specifically to reinforce Central Command.
“Brutal monsters,” Tariq declared, “we shall grant you purification!”
At his command, the Paladins closed in, surrounding Dolo like a silver storm.
“Guardian Link!”
Each raised their Silver Sword. Golden chains of light flared between them, linking their bodies. Every blow was shared—equally distributed among all seven. They moved as one, an unbreakable unit.
“Damn turtle shell!” Dolo cursed, swinging wildly. But each strike met the same unyielding shield.
The chains glowed faintly with each impact. The strength of every blow was divided—rendering Dolo’s fury impotent. The Paladins held firm, then counterattacked with precision, their swords flashing.
Dolo tried to break off, to flank them—avoid this deadly formation.
But Tariq saw it instantly.
“Forced Duel!”
The Silver Sword flared. Light erupted. Dolo was dragged into a sacred duel—trapped, unable to flee, unable to break their defense. The Paladins now held the upper hand, attacking from all sides.
For the first time, Dolo was on the defensive—his body riddled with wounds.
“Lord Dolo! I’ll help you!”
A Lizardfolk Chieftain, Ake, rode forth on an Earth-Crawling Dragonbeast, crashing into the Paladins and sending several flying.
But they rose again—quickly, instantly, reforming their formation. A wall of silver armor, impenetrable.
Following close behind, the Lizardfolk Old Shaman Koda raised his staff.
【Scorching Metal】
One Paladin’s shield turned red-hot, searing his hands. He screamed, dropping the shield in agony, flames licking his flesh.
Koda’s eyes narrowed. A faint, barely perceptible emerald aura flickered along his staff.
【Entanglement Spell】
Vines and thick roots burst from the earth, wrapping around a lone Paladin like a serpent’s grip. He was trapped.
“Die!” Dolo and Ake charged together.
The other Paladins tried to intervene—but it was too late.
The Paladin was first pierced through the shoulder by a bone spear. Then, with a thunderous arc, Dolo’s axe descended—crushing his skull like a melon.
Even with the Guardian Chain still linking him to his brothers, the lack of a shield left him defenseless. Flesh and bone could not withstand the axe’s might.
“Watch for the Spellcaster!”
“Guard Formation!” Tariq bellowed.
The remaining Paladins closed ranks, forming a tight defensive wall. They faced Dolo and his allies, while reinforcements rushed in—soldiers, even Allied Forces spellcasters arriving in haste.
【Mithril Wall】
【Protection Ward】
With casualties mounting, the Paladins grew cautious. Layers of protective spells now surrounded them. Even Dolo found no opening.
Dolo panted, eyes blazing red with bloodlust.
“Koda… can you cast that spell again?”
“My connection to nature isn’t strong enough… and their wards are too many.” Koda shook his head in frustration.
“Damn turtle shells,” Dolo growled, grinding his teeth. Then he mounted his Dragonbeast once more and charged.
But the silver wall held firm. Again and again, the Paladins repelled him. He made no progress.
Without Dolo’s momentum, the Burnt Ember Legion’s advance slowed dramatically. No longer a relentless wave behind the Earth Giant Commander, the assault lost its steam.
Yet the Eagle’s Claw—Lakanman’s finest—had endured. After repeated brutal assaults, they began to adapt.
The Duke’s soldiers, driven by the sight of fallen comrades, were now blood-frenzied. They held their ground—barely—through sheer will. The front line was locked in stalemate.
The battlefield swayed. Strategic points changed hands again and again.
An Ogre roared, smashing through a line of Humans, seizing a high ground. But moments later, archers rained arrows upon him, turning him into a quivering pincushion. Pike and Shield Infantry surged forward, reclaiming the position.
Then, the Chimera descended—spewing fire upon the Allied troops.
Death came without pause.
Blood flowed like rivers through Tiriel Valley, soaking into the grass.
This vast battlefield was a black hole—devouring lives from both sides.
Out of sheer distrust in the Players’ discipline, Kai Xiusu had not placed them in the main front. Instead, he stationed them on the flank.
Thus, Ashen Hollow’s force consisted of Meizhuolashi leading a thousand Players and five hundred Tiefling Warriors.
Allied Forces, on the other hand, had only three thousand reinforcements from the Bosk Family—far from elite.
While the central front burned with relentless slaughter, the right flank was slightly less intense—but no less chaotic. In fact, it was worse.
As Tieflings and Allied Forces formed their lines, carefully probing each other’s strength, the Players had already charged like wild stallions.
They cared nothing for military discipline.
“Charge!”
“WHAAAA!”
“Watch me shine!”
“For the tribe! No—wait—for Ashen Hollow!”
At the front was a man whose ID was “Ziyou no Yi”—now fully embracing his title of Holy Light Guy. Naked, he charged straight into the fray, his body gleaming under the sun.
His class was a Druid—a man of nature. He was flanked by several owls—his summoned animal companions.
“Wild Form!”
“ROAR!”
In a sight so absurd it bordered on offensive, Holy Light Guy dropped to all fours, transforming into a massive, muscular brown bear. He let out a thunderous roar and charged straight into the enemy line.
The Allied troops stared in disbelief—then snapped into action. Arrows rained down like hail.
“Too many arrows!”
“Shield up! Get me a shield!”
“Barbarian, take the hit for me!”
“Priest, give me a Holy Domain Spell—I can’t hold!”
After several volleys, the Players were decimated.
The worst off? Holy Light Guy—now a giant, hairy, arrow-riddled bear. He looked like a living porcupine.
He fell only when his health hit zero—transforming back into a naked, lifeless corpse, still faintly glowing with holy light.
“No—Holy Light Guy—”
“Can you believe this?”
“Who do these Non-Player Characters think they are?”
The Players erupted in fury.
The first to strike back were the Mechanical Divinity players—mostly Artificers, masters of bizarre and wondrous contraptions.
“Guardian Mech—activated.”
A cold, mechanical voice echoed across the battlefield.
A towering black silhouette emerged from the Player line.
“Whoa… what is that?”
“Is someone making a Gundam?!”
“Damn, that’s so cool—I want one!”
Standing over four meters tall, the Aether Armor stood firm. Though its iron parts looked crudely forged, its design radiated raw, mechanical beauty. Inside the cockpit sat Steel Tide, the guild’s leader.
This was the Artificer Subclass Armorist’s ability—【Aether Armor】, in its Guardian model, designed for frontline charge.
“Make way! Let me through!”
Steel Tide laughed maniacally as he drove the mech forward—crashing through lines, laughing like a man reborn.
He’d spent every last coin. Even raided Storm Armory funds. Now, finally, he had his chance to shine. The thrill was overwhelming.
To own such a machine and not show it off? That was like wearing silk in the dark.
The Allied archers immediately targeted the strange iron giant. Arrows flew—dozens, hundreds.
“Think you can hit a Gundam with arrows?” Steel Tide sneered.
“Shield Barrier!”
The Guardian Armor raised its left arm. A transparent energy barrier flared to life—deflecting every arrow with ease.
Behind him, the Players surged forward, following Steel Tide’s path until they reached the front lines of the Pike and Shield Infantry.
The Allied soldiers had never seen anything like this. They panicked, firing wildly—useless.
“Sir! The world has changed!”
“Thunder Strike Fist!”
Steel Tide roared. His right fist ignited with crackling lightning. Propulsion thrusters flared behind his arm. Electric arcs danced across his fist.
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion. The shield of an Allied soldier crumpled inward like a tin can. The man behind him was vaporized in an instant.
The shockwave sent nearby soldiers staggering. Their ears rang. Electric arcs danced across their bodies, paralyzing them.
“300!”
“300! 300!”
Steel Tide laughed like a wolf in a flock of sheep—punching through the line again and again. Each strike flattened another soldier.
His Character Sheet flashed with “Contribution Points +300”—a sweet, addictive rush.
“Man, this is just like grabbing a bag of fries!”
Behind him, the Battlefield Wheelchair Man gripped his Steel Sprayer and fired.
The weapon screamed. A torrent of metal bullets erupted—raking through the tightly packed Allied formation. Soldiers fell screaming, writhing in pain.
“Whoa! One shot—four down!”
“Is this even fair?!”
The Battlefield Wheelchair Man stared at his Character Sheet, eyes wide. He was ecstatic.
This gun was, in his mind, on par with the Type II Submachine Gun.
“Artificers are so fun to play!”
“I’m thinking of switching careers—anyone in?”
“You think you can read blueprints? Don’t even try to switch.”
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Steel Tide had already torn a hole in the enemy line. The Players poured through—like a flood.
“For Faction Contribution!”
“For the Dragon Maid!”
Sorcerers unleashed fireballs. Druids summoned grotesque beasts. Minstrels played battle hymns that channeled magic. Rogues slithered forward, firing from the shadows.
“Mage, don’t cast Shadow Veil! I can’t see anything!”
“Wild Wizard, wait—don’t use Magic Surge on yourself!”
“Why are you setting your own feet on fire?!”
“Minstrel, summon a Fiery Sprite!”
The battlefield became a chaotic storm of colors, weapons, and spells.
The Allied Forces had never faced a force like this—professionals, coordinated, reckless, and utterly merciless.
They had no answer. They broke and ran.
Far away, the Tieflings had planned their strategy. But seeing the Players charge blindly, they froze—uncertain.
“Captain… should we—?”
Damakos stepped forward.
Meizhuolashi adjusted his helmet, drew his sword, and said calmly:
“Then follow them. Take the victory. Don’t worry about these fallen stars. They’re immortal. We’re not.”
He had grown masterful at exploiting the Players’ chaotic energy.
“Yes, Captain.”
The Tieflings charged through the gap the Players had created—still in tight, disciplined formation, striking with precision.
The Players noticed.
“Whoa—Non-Player Characters are stealing the loot?!”
That was their only thought.
(End of Chapter)
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