Count Robert, supreme commander of the coalition, watched the battle in the skies with mounting tension.
A staff officer suggested in a hushed voice, "My lord, should we use the Dragonslayer Ballistas to support the North Wind Eagle Guard? Those wyverns shouldn't be able to withstand our bolts."
"No. Stay on alert."
Robert's tone was heavy.
The North Wind Eagle Guard was indeed the most critical force at his disposal, but doubts now clouded his mind. That red dragon, master of Cinder Nest, had yet to show itself since the war began!
Anyone with half a mind could deduce that a being capable of fielding such an army could not possibly be an ordinary young red dragon.
All Robert could do now was pray in secret, hoping the gods would grant their Dragonslayer Ballistas the power to pierce that beast's hide.
"We must wait until that red dragon appears."
Sweat dripped from Robert's brow. Without him realizing it, the once-crisp air of Trier Valley had turned stifling and hot.
"Yes, my lord."
The staff officer withdrew sullenly.
High above and on the ground below, tens of thousands of humans and monsters tangled and clashed in a chaotic, bloody melee.
A bugbear smashed a spearman's skull with a spiked club, sending brains splattering. But behind the fallen spearman, several archers drew their bows and loosed, turning the burly brute into a pincushion. From the sky, a wyvern swooped down, its venomous stinger impaling those archers straight through. Yet close behind it dived a North Wind Eagle Guard, driving a lance clean through the wyvern's vulnerable neck...
"I'll crush you all!"
Duoluo once again led from the front, swinging his massive Bloodfire Battleaxe in ferocious cleaves.
The hobgoblin had already tasted victory on the battlefield and knew full well what a terrifying slaughterhouse machine he had become.
This time, however, his axe failed to carve through the enemy as expected. It slammed into a thick, heavy shield, and it took considerable effort just to wrench the blade free.
"Stand forth for Order!"
Before him stood seven warriors clad in gleaming silver plate. They were Oath of the Crown paladins from House Bosque, led by a man enveloped in an Aura of Protection—the renowned Tariq, the "White Lion Knight." It was Tariq alone who had parried Duoluo's blow.
They had rushed forward specifically to reinforce the center vanguard.
"Brutal beast, we shall grant you purification!"
At Tariq's command, several paladins fanned out to encircle Duoluo.
"Warding Bond!"
The paladins raised their silver swords high. Glowing chains of light linked between them; every strike suffered by one was distributed among all. Moving as one in advance and retreat, the seven fought as a single entity.
"Damned turtle shells!"
Duoluo swung his battleaxe again and again, but every blow met a paladin's shield.
As the radiant chains flickered faintly, the impact of each strike was divided evenly into seven parts, allowing the paladins to deflect it with ease and swiftly counter with their silver blades.
Duoluo tried to shift his direction of attack, seeking to bypass these troublesome paladins.
Tariq, however, saw through his intentions instantly.
"Compelled Duel!"
Radiance flared from the silver blade, and Duoluo was forcibly locked into a sacred duel. He could neither break away nor shatter their defenses. Meanwhile, the paladins leveraged their numbers to press him from all angles.
For a moment, Duoluo was forced onto the back foot, accumulating wounds across his body.
"Lord Duoluo, I'm with you!"
Ak, chieftain of the lizardfolk, barreled in atop a land drake, sending several paladins flying from the impact.
Yet the paladins quickly scrambled to their feet and locked back into a tight formation, standing like an impenetrable fortress of silver.
Close behind came the old lizardfolk shaman Keda, brandishing his wooden staff.
*Heat Metal.*
The shield in one paladin's hand turned blistering red. The man's hands were scorched black, sizzling under the heat. Unable to bear it, he flung the shield away and tried to pull back into the rear.
The old shaman narrowed his eyes, and an emerald glow flickered along his wooden staff.
*Entangle.*
Twisting weeds and thick vines burst from the ground, binding the isolated paladin firmly in place.
"Die!"
Duoluo and Ak seized the opening together, lunging forward.
The surrounding paladins scrambled to block with their shields, but it was already too late.
A bone spear pierced the paladin's shoulder, followed immediately by a colossal axe crashing down from above, splitting his head in two. Even with Warding Bond still active, his mortal flesh could not endure the raw impact of that great axe without a shield to turn the blow.
"Watch their spellcasters!"
"Defensive formation!"
Tariq roared.
The remaining paladins reformed their tight wall, staring down Duoluo and his kin. More soldiers were sent to cover their flanks, and coalition spellcasters hurried to the scene as well.
*Mithral Rampart.*
*Protection Circle.*
Having suffered a loss, the paladins grew far more cautious. Veiled by several layers of defensive magic, they left even Duoluo without an immediate opening to strike.
Duoluo panted heavily, glaring at his foes, his crimson eyes burning with bloodlust.
"Keda, can you cast that spell again?"
"My natural power hasn't reached that level yet, and their protective spells... there are too many."
The lizardfolk shaman shook his head helplessly.
"Damned turtle shells!"
Duoluo spat a curse through gritted teeth and charged once more atop his land drake.
Yet the silver wall formed by the paladins rebuffed him time and again, preventing him from advancing even an inch.
With Duoluo stymied as the spearhead, the Cinder Legion's forward momentum slowed considerably. No longer could they tear through the enemy lines with the effortless carnage they had displayed trailing behind the hobgoblin commander.
Moreover, the Eagle's Claw was the most elite army in the Kingdom of Lakeman. After weathering multiple brutal charges, they gradually adapted to the grisly battle against the monsters.
Spurred by the mounting deaths of their comrades, the duke's loyal soldiers fought with fevered desperation. Through sheer grit and bloodied flesh, they held their basic defensive line, grinding the battle into a bitter stalemate.
The front lines surged back and forth across strategic vantage points.
One moment, an ogre roared and crushed a squad of men to claim high ground; the next, archers riddled the beast with arrows, allowing spear-and-shield troops to retake the position. But soon after, a chimera swooped down from the clouds, raining fire upon the coalition forces.
Death unfolded without pause.
Blood flowed across Trier Valley, soaking into the wild grass.
This vast battlefield had become a black hole, voraciously devouring lives on both sides.
...
Owing to Cassius's utter lack of faith in the players' discipline, he had not placed them on the critical central front, relegating them to the flank instead.
Thus, Cinder Nest's right wing was composed of a thousand players and five hundred tiefling warriors led by Mezrolash.
Facing them were three thousand reinforcements from House Bosque—troops that were far from elite.
Compared to the fiercely contested, casualty-strewn central battlefield, the right flank was somewhat milder. Yet its situation was hardly better, and in terms of sheer chaos, it even eclipsed the center.
While the tieflings and the coalition forces were still cautiously deploying into formation to test each other's strength, the players had already bolted forward like wild horses breaking their reins.
Military discipline, after all, was never something they cared about.
"Charge!"
"WAAAGH!"
"Watch me carry!"
"For the Horde! Wait, no, for Cinder Nest!"
Leading the charge was the player with the ID "Wings of Liberty." Having fully embraced his moniker of Holy Light Bro, he dashed at the very front of the battlefield, bare-bottomed and shameless.
His class was a nature-embracing Circle of the Land Druid, perfectly suited to his wild persona. Flocking around him were several owls—animal companions he had summoned.
"Wild Shape!"
"Roar!"
Holy Light Bro dropped to all fours in an eye-searing posture, transforming into a stocky brown bear. With a thunderous roar, he charged headlong into the enemy ranks.
The coalition soldiers looked at the reckless, tactless horde of players barreling toward them in sheer bewilderment. Snapping back to their senses, they promptly loosed volley after volley of arrows.
"Why are there so many arrows?!"
"Shield me, someone give me a shield!"
"Barbarian, take the hit for me!"
"Cleric, cast Sanctuary! I can't hold out much longer!"
After several volleys, the players suffered heavy losses.
The most pitiful was Holy Light Bro in his bear form. Being the largest and most conspicuous target, he caught the brunt of the fire. What was meant to be a brown bear now looked like a giant porcupine.
Only when his HP hit zero did he collapse, reverting to an arrow-riddled, bare-bottomed corpse still faintly cloaked in a thin veil of holy light.
"No—Holy Light Bro—!"
"Are we just gonna take this?!"
"A bunch of NPCs dare get cocky with us?!"
The players quickly mounted a counterattack, spearheaded by members of the Machine Cult. Almost all of them were artificers, and they had crafted no shortage of bizarre contraptions.
"Guardian armor activated."
A cold, mechanical voice rang out as a towering dark silhouette emerged within the player ranks.
"Holy crap, what is that?"
"Who the hell built a Gundam?!"
"That looks badass! I want one too!"
A four-meter-tall suit of Arcane Armor rose above the battlefield. Its iron components looked somewhat crude and cobbled together, but it did nothing to diminish the pure romance of piloting a mech. At the controls was none other than the guild leader of the Machine Cult, "Gangtie Kuangchao."
This was the Arcane Armor feature of the Artificer's Armorer subclass, and the suit Gangtie Kuangchao wore was the Guardian model, built specifically for front-line brawling.
"Out of my way, let me at 'em!"
Gangtie Kuangchao rammed through the field in his mech, laughing with wild abandon.
He had drained his entire personal savings and even embezzled funds from the Storm Armory to forge this suit of armor. Now that he finally had the chance to unleash its full power, he was practically bursting with excitement.
To own a mech and not show off was like walking in silk robes through the dark—utterly wasted!
The coalition archers immediately spotted the bizarre iron monstrosity and pelted it with a storm of arrows.
"You think bows and arrows can scratch a Gundam?"
Gangtie Kuangchao let out a cold sneer.
"Defensive Field!"
The Guardian armor raised its left arm. Powered by magical runes, a translucent barrier of force sprang to life, easily deflecting the incoming volley.
Following in Gangtie Kuangchao's wake, the players advanced all the way to the spearmen's front.
The coalition troops had never seen anything like this. Faced with the steadily looming Guardian armor, they could only flail in panic, utterly at a loss.
"Times have changed, old man!"
"Thunder Gauntlets!"
With a booming shout, Gangtie Kuangchao threw a right punch. The thruster on the arm flared with light and fire, and arcs of electricity crackled across his fist.
*Boom!*
A thunderous crack resonated as a coalition shield was dented inward with an exaggerated fist imprint. The soldier behind it was crushed to death on the spot.
Surrounding soldiers clutched their ears in agony, paralyzed by stray arcs of lightning crawling over their bodies.
"Three hundred!"
"Three hundred! Another three hundred!"
Gangtie Kuangchao laughed maniacally like a wolf loose among sheep, smashing through the coalition line punch after punch. Every blow flattened a coalition soldier, and his interface continuously flashed: *Faction Contribution +300*. It felt intoxicatingly good.
"This match is pure noob-farming heaven!"
Zhandi Lunyiren trailed close behind Gangtie Kuangchao, cradling his Steel Spitter, and fired point-blank into the fray.
With a roar of gunfire, a dense spray of metal pellets tore forward. The tightly packed coalition soldiers dropped in droves, writhing and wailing on the ground.
"Holy crap, four kills in one shot!"
"Is it really that strong?!"
Zhandi Lunyiren stared wide-eyed at the notifications scrolling across his interface, flushed with excitement.
In his eyes, this gun could practically rival a Type 2 submachine gun.
"Artificers are so much fun to play!"
"I want to respec! Anyone joining?"
"Bro, can you even read a blueprint? Respec my ass!"
"Push! Push!"
Gangtie Kuangchao had brute-forced a gaping hole through the enemy formation, and the players swarmed through the breach in waves.
"For faction contribution!"
"For the dragon maid!"
Sorcerers hurled blazing fireballs, druids summoned weird beasts, bards strummed magical tunes, and rogues crawled shamelessly along the dirt to loose sneaky arrows.
"Wizards, stop casting Darkness! I can't see shit!"
"Wild Magic Sorcerers, back off first!"
"Did your fucking Wild Magic Surge drop a fireball right at your own feet?!"
"Bard, drop a Faerie Fire!"
The players charged with bizarre battle cries, unleashing a chaotic kaleidoscope of skills. Flashes of every color lit the air alongside an assortment of bizarre weapons.
The coalition soldiers had never faced a force comprised entirely of leveled adventurers. Helpless against the players' nonsensical tactics, they broke and fled in panic.
In the distance, the tieflings had carefully laid out their tactical plan. But seeing the players charge in a chaotic mob, they were left momentarily bewildered.
"Captain, should we...?"
Damakos stepped forward to ask.
Mezrolash fastened his helm, drew his sword, and said calmly, "Then we follow behind them, advance, and reap the rewards. Pay no mind to whether these Starfallen live or die."
"They are immortal. We are not."
"Prepare to advance."
His skill at exploiting the players had grown increasingly refined.
"Yes, Captain."
The tieflings charged through the breach carved out by the players, maintaining a tight, disciplined formation to execute targeted strikes.
The players quickly noticed the tieflings joining the fray.
*Damn it, the NPCs are stealing our mobs!* was the only thought running through their minds.
Chapter 112