My Players Are So Fierce

“The stinky things are charging up again!”

A shout rang out from the crowd, followed by Onboard Joy Stick’s vigorous roar echoing in the darkness:

“Don’t panic! Warriors! Grip your spears! I specially chose this terrain. As long as you don’t retreat, those ghouls can’t break through! Front row shield bearers, stand firm, plant your shields in the ground, and press your whole body against them! You are the iron wall for your brothers!

Now count down from 3!

3, 2, 1!

Thrust forward!”

“Roar”

Following Brother Stick’s commands, the newcomers who had just entered the game a few days ago mustered all their strength and thrust their long spears forward in unison, the spears resting on the shields of the shield bearers in front.

In an instant, the spears formed a forest, piercing the bodies of the howling ghouls charging towards them.

But this kind of attack was like a drizzle to the ghouls who had already died once, doing nothing effective to kill them except hindering their clawing.

At this moment, Life Is Pretty Good, who was gripping a long spear, felt a bit nervous.

Not just because of the delayed sensation of the blade entering flesh when the spear was thrust out earlier, but more because just beyond the shield-bearing brothers in front of him who were baring their teeth and clenching their jaws, he could see the ghouls’ hideous faces, hear their snarling howls.

He could even smell the disgusting stench, enough to make one vomit.

He was currently at sewer entrance No. 4, forming a battle line with 20 other brothers to resist the ghouls trying to rush to the surface. In fact, if he had a choice, Life Is Pretty Good wouldn’t want to do this kind of tiring work. It was completely different from the relaxed and enjoyable gaming experience he had imagined.

“Brother Stick! Brother Stick, we can’t hold on!”

A scruffy, dejected brother holding a shield at the front shouted with difficulty:

“I’m not a strength-based character either, damn it, I feel like I’m about to be torn apart.”

“Hold on even if you can’t!”

Onboard Joy Stick, flapping his wings and flying back and forth throwing burning oil on the ghoul horde behind, reprimanded:

“If we can’t hold on, all the NPCs above will die. This is war, everyone be serious! It’s almost over, hang in there a bit longer!”

He shouted, sprinkling the last can of oil from his Spirit Bag, then pulled out the double-barreled shotgun from his back and fired a shot downwards. Amid the sparks, it ignited the combustibles sprinkled earlier, and in the blink of an eye, flames licked up among these stinking ghouls.

Brother Stick was an expert at playing with fire.

Under his precise distribution of oil bottles thrown down earlier, the racing flames quickly sealed off nearly half of the passage in front. The ghouls, fearing fire and light, became chaotic because of this, and this wave of deadly charge was thus resolved.

But this was just the beginning.

“Brothers! Grab your weapons and charge! It’s time to grind skill proficiency.”

He endured the roasting of the flames in the air, thinking that vampires really had poor fire resistance, while calling out to the brothers below. He landed on the ground in front, sweeping his Clan Guard War Sword horizontally to knock down two ghouls. The power from the Tomb Guard summoned wraiths from the underworld to enter the material world and help their summoner, like pale ferocious claws.

Seeing Brother Stick so valiant, the little players also became agitated.

They grabbed their weapons and charged into the still burning area, cutting down those burning ghouls. Under the roasting of the flames, these ferocious undead seemed scared, even their counterattacks became sluggish.

“Damn, this is too exciting. It’s intense, so intense.”

A bald brother next to Life Is Pretty Good dragged a greatsword forward and hacked wildly, while making strange laughing sounds, making the second Little Rich Brother feel that perhaps he should stay away from this guy with the ID “Kind-Face Giant Shark Uncle”.

“What are you doing here?”

Just as Life Is Pretty Good was hesitating whether to follow the crazy player brothers deeper, Feel You Poor’s voice sounded from behind. Little Rich Brother had already made some gains with his big manticore, with an elite ghoul’s claw tied to the back of the manticore as a “trophy”, making the manticore look very disgusted.

Feel You Poor said in surprise:

“Where are your two assistants?”

“Ah, they’re off work,”

Life Is Pretty Good sighed and said:

“This game is really damn weird, it’s the first time I’ve heard that NPCs need to get off work, and you have to pay extra for them to work overtime, and I don’t have money on hand.”

“Then there’s no use for you to stay here, why not go to the camp? I see Miss Miriam is gathering administrative players to maintain order. You’ve been sitting in an office for years, you shouldn’t stay here, I can see your legs are shaking.”

Feel You Poor advised.

Mainly afraid that his poor little level 1 rookie brother might inexplicably die here, but Life Is Pretty Good rolled his eyes and said arrogantly:

“No, I want to continue fighting! Real men love fighting! Hey, today I’m going to become a qualified warrior! Don’t try to stop me.”

“Heh, alright then, come with me, brother. I’ll show you what real fighting is.”

Seeing his childhood friend being stubborn, Feel You Poor chuckled, pulled him onto the very unhappy manticore, carrying the two of them and quickly traversing through the maze-like sewers.

The mission of elite players like Feel You Poor who had already passed the Black Iron Trial was to hunt down the elite leaders in the ghoul tide. These undead creatures were like “nodes”, and after eliminating them, the remaining ordinary ghouls would be easier to deal with.

So currently, over 40 people who had passed the Black Iron Trial had been scattered throughout the sewers of the outer city district to hunt.

The players’ task was to delay time until the Kadman People’s Army established a stable defense line. Maxim was busy with this matter. Although tonight’s ghoul tide came suddenly, for the Crimson Citadel survivors who had been fighting against all sorts of bad things since the disaster, this was not a calamity worth fearing.

Repeated tempering had made the minds of the survivors under Murphy’s command incredibly resilient.

While Miss Miriam was gathering militia at the forward camp, and the Blood Pact Knights had also entered the sewers to start working, on the road to Morland Village, Guildmaster Natalie’s expression didn’t look too good.

Amber, galloping on horseback beside her, seemed to sense the captain’s mood and said softly:

“Those who have just settled in Morland Village may not be willing to help. Although nominally everyone says they are grateful to Lord Murphy for accepting us homeless people, in reality, the grudge between Witch Hunters and vampires is not so easily dispelled.”

“But this is an opportunity,”

Natalie sighed, pulling the reins of her warhorse Maple Leaf:

“For whatever reason, we have to take this step proactively. Murphy has already given us enough freedom. If we still stand by in this situation where the territory needs us.

Not just him, other people on this land will also reject and despise us more because of this.”

“Everyone knows these principles, Captain,”

Amber pushed her eye patch and pouted:

“But if people who know the principles were willing to act according to them, there would be no wars in this world. For many of us, surviving in vampire territory is already frustrating enough.

Now we have to obey the orders of a vampire, which is simply unimaginable.

Of course, I don’t care.

I’ll follow your orders.”

“You can’t not care, Amber, you’re my most valued hunter commander, I’m counting on you to help me rebuild the Witch Hunter legacy.”

Natalie joked with a pout, then sat up straight on her warhorse in the galloping night, looking at the clearly visible outline of Morland Village in the distance under the dark night.

The light from the Astral Realm rift emitting a flirtatious purple glow in the starry sky above the night covered this land, making even the clear moonlight seem to be tinged with a strange haziness. The night in the Count of Kadman’s domain was definitely different from other places.

“We are Witch Hunters, Amber.”

Guildmaster Natalie let out a long sigh.

With a few traces of fatigue in her eyes that shone with determination, she said:

“Whether this is a vampire’s order or not, the fact that a ghoul rampage is happening in that city is real, and every Witch Hunter has sworn an oath to Avalon when completing the hunting trial.

Cleansing this filthy world of evil is our duty and our mission!

As long as our people still identify with this witch-hunting oath, they have enough reason to return to Crimson Citadel with us tonight, where there are plenty of evil creatures for them to hunt.

We… we who have been rejected by society and the kingdom for 10 years also need to learn to be more proactive, to reintegrate into our new home, and tonight’s event is a good opportunity.

Dealing with ghouls and wraiths, huh, we are the real experts!”

“Mm, that’s right,”

Miss Amber grinned.

She thought Natalie was right. Being able to defeat ghouls and being able to use various factors to eliminate ghouls with minimal losses were two completely different concepts, and also the biggest difference between warriors and hunters.

It usually takes a day to reach Morland Village from Crimson Citadel, but with the galloping of specially trained demon-hunting warhorses, it only took Natalie and Amber a little over 3 hours to return to this village that held complex meanings for both of them.

The last batch of members of the White Oak Battalion was now living here. The village where a massacre had once occurred had been renovated, and even the underground ghoul nest had been thoroughly cleared and refilled.

The settlement of over 1,000 people seemed well-organized. Although most people were still living in tents, the erection of wooden houses in the village represented that this village had begun to “rebirth”.

As Natalie dismounted, several high-ranking hunters who had stayed in the village came to greet them. They had already learned about everything happening in Crimson Citadel through Old Eugene’s thunder-carved horn messaging.

Natalie thought she would need to spend some time persuading these “old stubborn ones”, but surprisingly, when she and Amber entered the area outside the village that had been leveled specifically for training warhorses, they saw 300 fully armed Witch Hunter warriors who were already prepared for the hunt.

They were now putting packs of moondust explosives into their saddlebags, and there were dedicated craftsmen rushing to make final repairs to the warriors’ weapons.

A dozen alchemists in the village were carrying baskets of sword oil and potions, distributing them to the waiting warriors.

This scene was very much like the preparation scene before each expedition when they were still at Pioneer Fortress.

“We thought you would scold us,”

Amber said in surprise to the tall hunter beside her:

“Didn’t you all refuse to serve vampires?”

“We did refuse, and we still refuse now,”

The young hunter Sankey said with a straight face while adjusting the hunting knife and crossbow at his waist:

“But a ghoul disaster has broken out less than 4 hours away from the village, and we are Witch Hunters. In this situation, if we continue to stand by, I’m afraid the god Avalon will bring down divine punishment of destruction.”

“Yes!”

Sankey’s companion, a cheerful long-ponytailed girl with obvious Nord features named Fano, pouted and said:

“This is not to serve that vampire lord, nor to carry out his orders. We are just doing our duty, spreading our god’s purification and tolerance, nothing more.”

“You two know you’re like two children throwing tantrums right now,”

Amber teased:

“Deliberately emphasizing these things doesn’t change the fact that tonight we’ll be under the leadership of a vampire…”

“Auntie!”

Before she could finish, an excited shout rang out from the village. Amber turned her head painfully to see her fellow villager.

The reconnaissance Spirit Mage Helu was riding a donkey from who knows where, carrying a scroll bag and walking towards her.

This pitiful guy born near the elf forest can’t ride a horse…

Well, actually it’s because when he was a child, he was kicked by a crazy out-of-control horse while picking mushrooms in the forest with Amber, which led to Helu developing some kind of indescribable “fear” of horses ever since.

“Auntie, I heard you became the chief hunter captain of the Adventurer’s Guild, tsk tsk, you’re an official now,”

Helu rode his donkey over and said to the disgusted Amber without any self-awareness:

“Why don’t you get me a job too? I’ve heard that the vampire lord is very generous, and the first batch of selected retainers were all of commoner origin, and they’ve all become knights now.

I think, although I’m mediocre in talent, but… well, in today’s Transia I can be considered a rare talent, right? Auntie, I heard you have some connections with that vampire lord, why don’t you help me get my foot in the door?”

“You’re a student of the Circle Tower!”

Amber scolded with her hands on her hips:

“Don’t you know what the situation is between Circle Tower and vampires now? You dare to go be an official for vampires? Are you afraid you’re not dying fast enough?”

“Tch, who cares, I’ve already dropped out of school, destined not to get a diploma,”

Helu was quite open-minded. This country boy from the Antani Region now had his mind full of becoming a “follower of the dragon”. After all, when the villagers funded his education and sent him to Circle Tower, he had made grand statements about making something of himself.

He hoped that when he returned home in his old age, he could bring back a gratifying response to the villagers. As for which family he would serve or what title he would get…

That doesn’t matter at all!

As long as he could make it, it would be OK.

Amber was still a bit worried, after all, Helu’s identity was a bit sensitive, but Natalie didn’t see it that way. She stepped forward, looked Helu up and down, and said:

“You come with us. After we clear out those ghouls, I’ll introduce you to Lord Murphy. He’s indeed very short of people now and urgently needs outstanding talents like you. And he’s really generous…

I mean, you might as well be bolder when negotiating your salary upon joining.”

“Oh, okay,”

Helu responded excitedly.

A dozen minutes later, Natalie led 300 Witch Hunter veterans belonging to the Adventurer’s Guild to set off again towards Crimson Citadel.

They wouldn’t enter the city, but would directly enter the battle area from the sewer outlets outside the city.

That would save some precious time.

Led by the crimson warhorse Maple Leaf at the forefront, the Witch Hunter procession galloped away under the unique purple night sky of Transia. Natalie’s hair fluttered, and as she gripped the reins, she could vaguely feel the Great Oak Sacred Blade on her back emitting some kind of peculiar hum.

It seemed to be agreeing with Natalie’s actions tonight, or as if the holy relic resonance that had been struggling to advance had entered the next stage.

But Natalie didn’t really care about these things.

The resonance with the sacred blade was destined to be a long process, and right now, compared to the acceptance of the sacred blade, there were more important things to do.

This was the first time in the past 10 years that the Witch Hunters were executing a demon-hunting mission based on their own judgment rather than orders, which was enough to make Natalie, this young leader, sigh deeply. She said in her heart:

“We will truly integrate into this land, starting with tonight’s dedication… If this is your wish, Father, please bless us from our god’s holy hall.

From now on, we will no longer wield our swords only for wars that don’t belong to us and for humble survival.

From now on, the Witch Hunters will crawl out of the quagmire of fate and become noble again in this wild land. May all this be as you wish.”