Chapter 663: Players' Readiness
Swish—
The massive Portal slowly unfolded, and several Players stepped forth with steady, purposeful strides.
Clad in thick camouflage uniforms and steel helmets, their bodies radiating a faint, pungent scent of smoke—Spines-grade—each bore the Gear Sigil of the Machine God emblazoned across their chest.
—Clearly, they were all members of [Mechanical Divinity].
At the forefront stood a blond, blue-eyed Caucasian Player, his nickname hovering above his head like a halo: Curtis.
"Hahaha! You've finally arrived!" boomed the Great Goblin General, laughing as he approached.
The alliance between the Military Faction and [Mechanical Divinity] ran deep. Their interests aligned perfectly, their objectives shared. Drool had long since regarded these Stellarfallen—those who could forge weapons of unimaginable power—as nothing short of family.
Curtis firmly gripped the Great Goblin’s hand, offering a polite smile. "Greetings, General Drool. I’ve heard much about you. I am Curtis, Senior Military Engineering Division of the Empire."
The man wore glasses, giving him an air of scholarly restraint, yet his smile was unnervingly wide—almost feral.
In the Player community of his past life, Curtis was infamous. He preached the gospel of "Explosion and Destruction as Art." Even fellow Players regarded him as a madman.
Though he’d only joined the Empire during the [2.0 Northern Winds and Storms] update, his American flair for weaponcraft had propelled him like a fire arrow straight into the ranks of [Mechanical Divinity], where he now stood as the Great Sage of the [Restoration Sect].
The [Mechanical Divinity] had since splintered into multiple sects: the Protective Army, the Intelli-Control Army, the Restoration Sect, the Bio-Force Division, and more.
And Curtis’s [Restoration Sect]? It specialized in mass-destruction weapons—so much so that Players affectionately nicknamed them the "Great Bomb Brigade".
His greatest achievement? The infamous Magic Fusion Bomb, which reduced an entire remote Half-Plane to a wasteland of choking smoke and toxic fire—so potent it nearly drew the attention of a Deity.
"Ah, Curtis," Drool’s grin widened. "I’ve heard of you. The genius destroyer. Perfect! Our current quest demands exactly your kind of brilliance. Come with me!"
The Players followed the Great Goblin into Aivendeldan—no, better yet, Dragonfly City—and entered the Combat Command Room, located within the ruins of the former Dwarven Royal Palace.
A three-dimensional magical projection flared across the long table.
Drool pointed at the horrifying, green-skinned creatures before them.
"These are our enemies—Green-Skinned Ogres. Immensely strong, fearless of death, and possessing terrifying reproductive capabilities. Our intelligence estimates that the number of Ogres on the Ugo Great Plain has now surpassed three million."
He paused, his voice darkening. "Just a month ago, they numbered fewer than 400,000. In one month, their population has multiplied tenfold."
Even the Great Goblin’s expression grew grim.
Before them stretched an endless tide of beasts—like a sea of flesh and fury. The sheer scale was staggering.
If left unchecked, these Ogres could spawn a catastrophe even worse than a Demon Tide.
The Players pulled out their data pads, flipping through documents with quiet focus, scribbling notes with swift, precise strokes—the shush-shush of pen on paper echoing through the chamber.
After a moment, Curtis lifted his head, adjusting his glasses with a calm, almost detached demeanor.
"His Majesty’s objective?" he asked, voice smooth. "Simply exterminate the Ogres? Or do we completely Destruction the Ugo Great Plain, turning it into an ash-covered wasteland where no life can survive—stripping the Ogres of their very soil?"
He paused, then added, as if discussing the weather: "If it’s the former, we already have several ready-made solutions. But the latter? Now that would be a real challenge. A worthy new课题 for the [Restoration Sect]."
His tone was so casual, so chillingly indifferent, that Drool felt cold sweat bead along his brow.
"Perhaps we could destabilize the spatial structure," Curtis mused. "Though that might trigger a cascade collapse across the Northern Aether."
"Great Sage," another Player interjected, "your Magic Fusion Bomb hasn’t been tested in the Prime Material Plane yet. If we control the yield, it could be perfect."
In mere moments, the [Mechanical Divinity]'s "Great Bomb Brigade" had begun earnestly debating the methodology of Destruction the Ugo Grassland.
"No, no, no," Drool stammered, his lips twitching. Cold sweat streamed down his face. His scales bristled along his arms. "There’s no need for such... extreme measures."
But worse still—after he spoke—Drool felt it. A wave of disappointment, even mild contempt, flickered in the eyes of the Stellarfallen.
Too bad…
Such a petty little quest. Not worth summoning us for.
My Space Bomb’s going to gather dust again…
Drool forced a grin. "You’re all Empire’s finest. But this time, we don’t need you to unleash your full potential. Besides, the Empire still needs the Ugo Great Plain as pastureland."
Madmen. These Stellarfallen were pure madmen.
Even the Great Goblin—born a warrior race—thought only in terms of conquest. But these Players? They relished annihilation for its own sake.
In the face of such fanatics, even a warlord like Drool felt like a mere sheep in a field of wolves.
Curtis chuckled. "General, if you insist on restraint, then let’s bring out a few new toys for an experiment. After all, a few million live targets shouldn’t go to waste."
He snapped his fingers. "Let’s give them a barbecue: White Phosphorus Shells, Incendiary Bombs, Thermobaric Bombs, Fuel-Air Explosive Bombs, Napalm Bombs—all on full display. I’d love to see them sizzle."
"By all means, go ahead," Drool said, though he barely understood the weapons. Just hearing the names sent shivers down his spine.
"Great Sage," another Player asked, "why not use a Biological Weapon?"
Curtis shook his head. "I’ve studied the experiments of the biological sage. These Ogres’ life force is… unusual. They can even metabolize toxins as energy. From my observations, fire is the most effective method. I enjoy the way they scream as they burn. And their corpses… they emit a smell like scorched vegetation."
As the Players discussed with cold enthusiasm, Drool could only stare, dumbfounded.
How naive I’ve been, he thought. I was still too… kind.
---
Northern Aether — Dragonhead City
A Wyvern hovered low in the sky, its wings casting a shadow over the city. Half-Red Dragons and Tiefling Guards patrolled the city walls. At the heart of the city, reinforced concrete skyscrapers rose like steel trees, their construction still underway. Black smoke curled from the outskirts.
After more than a month of transformation, the city now radiated a distinct Imperial Style—a sharp contrast to the old Collins architecture.
With the conquest of Northern Aether, more and more Players poured into Dragonhead City, fueling its growth as a new engine of progress. The original citizens? Now mere cogs in a vast, mechanical machine.
"Noodles!"
"Awooo—!"
A thunderous dragon roar split the air.
The Wyvern landed with a heavy thud on the rooftop landing pad.
Perched atop its back was a fully armored Knight—his suit a striking blend of crimson and black. A badge of the Dragonblood Baron of the Empire of Ashen gleamed on his chest. At his waist hung a silver longsword, its hilt carved with the image of a Two-Headed Dragon. He looked every inch a legend.
The new Players stared in awe, crowding around the beast, gasping in admiration.
"Damn, so cool!"
"Look! It’s a Dragon Knight!"
"Is this the Crimson Scale Conqueror of the Empire? So badass!"
"Man, I wish I’d joined earlier… the slots are all taken."
"My dream hero… one day he’ll ride a Two-Headed Dragon in red armor and come for me!"
"Can this dragon carry more than one person? Sir, can I sit behind you?"
One female Player, eyes shining with adoration, nearly vibrated with excitement. She practically wanted to leap onto the dragon’s back and fly away with him.
In the midst of the crowd, Stuffed Bun waved proudly, grinning like a king.
"Hah! My charisma is radiating—even my armor can’t hide it! Since I’m in a good mood today, I’ll reward you with a little surprise! Let me show you my true face!"
Slowly, he lifted his heavy visor.
A smirk curled across his lips—self-satisfied, smug, a smile worthy of Peng Yuyan or Wu Yanzu.
Silence.
Then—utter stillness.
Every face in the crowd twisted into confusion, horror, or disbelief. The female Player froze. Her hands trembled.
"Can you please stop showing your face?!"
"Turns out, a man’s charm lives only in a woman’s imagination. Can I take back my words?"
Stuffed Bun’s smile faltered—then cracked.
The scene he’d imagined—cheers, adoring crowds, girls flocking to him—was nowhere to be found.
The girl took a step back, muttering, "Um… right. According to the Empire’s new rules, Two-Headed Dragon passenger limits are strict. I’ll just… go now."
"His gear’s actually pretty cool," someone said.
"Damn, this must cost over a hundred gold coins."
"…But the face? Honestly, it’s… hard to describe."
Why does everyone go silent the second I show my face?
Am I really that hideous?
Stuffed Bun’s heart sank.
He wasn’t a looker, sure—but he wasn’t that bad. At worst, he was… average.
But the whispers cut deeper than any blade.
After a long pause, he forced a brave smile.
"Nice faces are everywhere. But a spiritual soul? That’s rare. Don’t you feel the inner beauty I radiate?"
The silence returned—thicker, colder.
The girl shook her head, resolute.
Then—suddenly—a voice from the distance.
"Whoa! Is that Stuffed Bun? He hasn’t posted a new video in half a year!"
"Wait, really?!"
"Look at that smug face—it’s him!"
"Man, I forgot what he looked like. This guy’s been inactive for ages!"
"Kill the old grackle!"
Instantly, both old and new Players surged toward him, some brandishing heavy hammers and battle axes—ready to vent months of frustration.
"You’re Stuffed Bun? The guy who made Ailezegai Game Videos?"
"I remember—I started watching his videos! He’s just… forgettable."
Even the new players had caught on. Chatter erupted.
"Ohhh! I get it—he was faking it for effect!"
"Are we going to be on camera?"
Stuffed Bun screamed inside, but his face twisted into a strained smile.
"Yeah, of course! I meant to do it—just filming some fun content!"
"Ah, so you really thought you were hot?"
"Haha, I thought you were actually serious!"
"Wait, you actually believed you were attractive? That’s why we’re all embarrassed!"
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
Stuffed Bun turned away, shoulders slumped, staring into the distance as the cold wind howled past.
Truth is the sharpest blade. Lies can’t wound. But truth cuts deep.
The old fans closed in, pressing in like a storm.
"Where’s your new video?!"
"Stuffed Bun, you ghosted us again!"
"Dead monk!"
"I’m working on it! Stop throwing eggs!"
He ducked as a rotten egg flew past his ear.
His face flushed crimson. Veins bulged on his forehead.
"This isn’t ghosting!" he shouted. "This is research and filming! We’re building better content for you! Ten Years of Refinement—"
The crowd roared with laughter.
"Awooo—!"
A thunderous dragon roar split the sky.
Another massive shadow descended—this time, a Wyvern circling above, its scales gleaming silver, bound with crimson ribbons. More imposing than Stuffed Bun’s mount.
"Who’s that? Looks even cooler than Stuffed Bun!"
"His Wyvern’s armored! And rare-tier gear! Who is this rich bastard?!"
Boom!
Dust exploded as a Knight in heavy armor rode down, landing with effortless grace. His movements were fluid, elegant—so much smoother than Stuffed Bun’s.
He lifted his visor.
"New war mission—wanna go?" he called out, his voice clear and commanding.
"Wait… that face…"
"Is that… S神? The god of solo players?"
"Is it Singo? The World League runner-up! The one who soloed a massive guild!"
"He’s even better in person! I’ve been a fan for years!"
The crowd instantly abandoned Stuffed Bun. Even the girl turned, eyes wide with infatuation.
Within seconds, she was a devoted fan—ten years of admiration in the making.
Stuffed Bun turned away, scowling.
"Fine. Let’s go. These shallow mortals—so easily dazzled by shiny trinkets."
Whoosh—
Two Wyverns beat their wings in unison, lifting into the sky.
One after the other, they soared eastward into the wind—toward the horizon.
(End of Chapter)
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