A different world game? A different world game!

A foul-smelling wind, carrying rusty iron pieces, howled across the battlefield.

This is a defensive line stretching for dozens of kilometers. As far as the eye can see, all that can be seen is the brutal reality of war.

Various magical fluctuations surged from all directions, wave after wave, circle after circle, rising and falling, endlessly.

Some powerful large-scale spells left magical trails in the deep sky that lingered for a long time.

The once azure sky and white clouds were polluted by the ratmen's vicious and chaotic magic, and were torn apart and dispersed by these magical traces.

Even as night fell, the battlefield did not descend into darkness. The lingering magical trails in the sky illuminated the entire battlefield in a bizarre and surreal way, like a grotesque and terrifying painting.

Beneath a fortress of rats, the Holy Light Priestess Evelyn stood in the middle of her party. Half a rat's claw was wedged in the gaps of her silver armor, swaying from side to side as she moved.

At her feet, the corpses of three Rat Guards twisted and writhed in the sacred fire, their charred bone claws still in the same position as when they were tearing at her cloak.

In the past, Evelyn would never have been so careless about details.

As a devout believer and disseminator of the Holy Light, she must always pay attention to her demeanor in order to demonstrate the holiness and purity of the Holy Light to the world.

However, now, war has completely changed everything.

To hell with manners, all you rats can die!
They followed the siege equipment and slowly advanced towards the fortress.

The siege tower's hinges groaned like a dying man. Fifty yards away, a dwarf engineer, covered in alchemical tar, swung his warhammer, pounding on the jammed gears.

"Raise! Raise! You long-eared idiots!"

The elves, oblivious to his curses, continued to draw their bows without pause.

His roar mingled with the whistling of the catapults. A canister of liquid flames exploded on the left side of the city wall, instantly turning more than twenty ratman cannon fodder into screaming fireballs.

The cries from the battlefield never ceased.

Evelyn's prayers were abruptly cut short. She saw the black figures of the Night's Watch commando darting around the southeast corner, Captain Larret leading twelve elite men, charging bravely up the ramp made of corpses.

The man, who always had a dagger in his mouth, now held a poisoned short sword in each hand. The snake-man soldier's uniquely flexible joints allowed him to climb vertical walls like a spider.

He was a rare snake-man night watchman.

Three archer rats poked poisoned crossbow bolts out of the firing port, but in the blink of an eye, blood bloomed from their throats.

The Night's Watch assassins are not to be trifled with.

Of course, on the battlefield, they dared not retreat too much into the shadows, after all, the hateful god of shadows was always watching them.

For these assassins, the most hated god is undoubtedly the god of shadows.

"Holy Light..."

Evelyn suddenly knelt down, and the gold-inlaid sutra box slipped from her trembling fingers.

Deep within the defensive line, a plague cloud was quietly gathering. Countless distorted rat faces floated within that dark green mist.

The chaotic magic surged forth like a raging tide, exerting immense pressure on the Holy Light. This mental pressure was becoming increasingly difficult for Evelyn's will to bear.

She forced herself to grip the cross scepter tightly again, enduring the discomfort, only to touch the still-drying blood at the end of the handle—the last mark left by the centaur rider whose chest had been pierced by a ratman's spear three hours earlier.

While the number of Night's Watch members who die on the battlefield is small, it is not nonexistent. Even with their ability to grant data-driven blessings, the chaos of battle can sometimes lead to delays in recovery.

A dull thud came from above, like steel tearing through flesh.

The twelve alchemical steam chariots finally broke through the outer defense line, and the rotating chainsaw breaching guns cut the city wall, which was made of piles of garbage, into dust.

"Hahaha, you dead rats, taste the dwarf grandpa's spear thrust!"

The dwarves driving the chariots burst into laughter.

However, the moment the first chariot stepped into the inner city, the ground suddenly collapsed and turned into a putrid swamp.

Six barbed tongues shot out from the ground and instantly entangled the three-meter-tall steel chariot.

"Troll Rat!" the dwarf engineer roared, his voice cracking.

He hurriedly aimed the liquid flamethrower at the mountain of flesh that was devouring the mech, only to discover to his horror that the fuel line had been cut by the ratman assassin.

At this critical moment, Evelyn saw Captain Larret suddenly change his route, his black cloak sweeping across the burning ruins like bat wings.

Behind him, a member of the Night's Watch shielded him from the pursuing plague stones with his own body.

The man was knocked to the ground by such a heavy blow, but he just grimaced as he got up and continued fighting.

When the troll rat's third compound eye was pierced by the snake-shaped dagger, the entire battlefield suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Evelyn's scepter shone with an unprecedented light, and with this light, she finally saw the scene at the deepest part of the defense line—twenty ratman wizards were dancing wildly around the bone altar, their plague chalices filled with dark green blood.

"A group of mages!"

For the first time, the Holy Light Priest's voice trembled with fear, "They are summoning..."

The thunderous impact instantly drowned out her warning.

Before the last iron gate, three hundred heavily armed infantrymen pushed battering rams, completing their final, fierce assault.

The rotten oak door collapsed with a crash, and in the billowing dust, countless scarlet pupils emerged.

"Plague rats!!"

……

"The rats have already started setting up suicide attacks inside their defenses. Even if we break through their fortress defenses, they will drag our soldiers down with them."

A commander roared angrily in his tent.

His anger was not without reason; most of these suicide attacks were related to the plague, which had put enormous pressure on his side.

“This is the main battlefield. When they have to resort to such tactics to slow us down, it means they are nearing their breaking point,” an officer reminded him.

Upon hearing this, the commander glared at him fiercely: "Those are my soldiers! Are you going to make them pay with their lives? Their lives are far more precious than those rats' lives!"

"The soldiers' morale has inevitably declined, and even the Night's Watch's fierce attacks have been unable to reverse the situation," another commander couldn't help but say.

Should I go and boost morale?

Leilia asked, carrying her weapon.

She had only been withdrawn from the battlefield for less than a day at this time.

Her fighting style is aggressive and wild, which can indeed effectively boost morale to some extent.

However, Blake, who was sitting in the main seat, shook his head.

"No, I'll go myself."

Upon hearing this, the tent fell silent.

All eyes were on him, and then they exchanged glances with each other.

"No, you are a general."

"Yes, we must not act rashly."

“There will definitely be enemies targeting you on the front lines.”

Their high-end combat capabilities are already stretched thin. They might be able to manage in the defense of the camp, but if they were on the front lines, facing a chaotic battle, and the enemy were to carry out a decapitation strike, they really wouldn't know what effective countermeasures they had.

After all, they don't possess many legendary combat abilities.

"I have taken that step." (End of Chapter)