A different world game? A different world game!

The continent of Taril.

The expedition team at the front lines.

The battle zone where three parties clashed.

The Guardians of Light - Expeditionary Force - Second Squadron, responsible for the D2-4 area, has just experienced a small skirmish.

The scorching tail flames of the magic-powered bomb had not yet completely dissipated, and the remaining energy crackled near the scorching muzzle.

The air was filled with a chaotic, void, and magical aura of order, making the entire environment somewhat bizarre and the light in the air somewhat confusing.

Just seconds ago, three Voidclaw Beasts, resembling moving piles of ore and shimmering with irregular crystal clusters, were howling as they charged toward the defensive line.

Their remains are now emitting wisps of twisted black smoke, scattered on the scorched earth dozens of meters away, their twisted, crystallized limbs still twitching reflexively.

However, this only lasted for a few seconds before their bodies turned to ashes and disappeared.

This signifies the true death of these Void Beasts, which have been transformed into experience and the energy needed by the world.

"Group C! Quick! Right flank! Open space on the right flank!"

A human shield warrior, his face blackened by gunpowder smoke and his helmet missing half of its chin guard, roared hoarsely, several cracks appearing on the edge of his massive tower shield.

In essence, digitized weapons will not experience this situation, but just as their maximum health is reduced when their bodies are hit by void creatures, the same situation will occur when weapons are digitized.

Moreover, the digitization of weapons is more difficult to recover from than physical injuries.

Weapon data will have its durability reduced when attacked, but it will still appear to maintain its intended function and continue fighting.

However, this rule ceases to exist when the forces of the void cause destruction.

In the game's terminology, this can be understood as the void's attack having a shattering effect.

Regardless of whether your durability has expired, it essentially destroys the weapon directly.

Just like a digitized flesh and blood body that, after being attacked, needs to use a special potion to clear away the effects of the void before it can restore its reduced maximum health.

Even with the power of data, we are still affected by this situation, let alone the physical body without data.

This is why the Void is called destruction, and the arrival of the Void is the end of the world.

It's not that the world and life don't want to resist, but that they don't know how to survive in the face of absolute destruction.

The soldier suddenly turned to the side, using all his strength and the slant of the tower shield to smash aside a bone-spiky "heart-piercing beetle" that was trying to sneak in through a crack in the metal wall.

A medium-sized local worm slightly affected by void energy.

Although the native creatures of the Taril continent are exceptionally frenzied and born with chaotic power, making them difficult to corrupt, some of these weaker insects can still be transformed by the power of the void.

However, unlike other areas where they crumble at the first touch, the native creatures are still able to fight the enemy to a standstill.

The insect's hard, iron-like carapace scraped violently against the tower shield, producing a sharp, teeth-grinding noise and leaving a clear trail of corrosive, yellowish-green slime on the shield's surface.

That's fine.

After all, it had only just been transformed, and it didn't seem to be very adept at using the destructive power of the void yet, as it hadn't yet developed any instincts.

These newly transformed creatures will not be as powerful as true void creatures.

The shield warrior turned to face a supply soldier behind him who was carrying a heavy ammunition box and running up with a hunched back.

He yelled until his throat was hoarse: "'Buzzing Ripper'! Hurry! Give me two more boxes of that damn stuff! What a stroke of luck! The stomach acid from the pangolin we just slaughtered melted through our weld."

"I'm fed up with using this crappy shield to smash these sticky, corrosive things!"

He lifted his arm, which was covered in burns and blisters and exposed by the broken armor, and wiped his face, which only made the black ash and purplish-black slime spread even more evenly.

As for the effects of this slime, there's nothing we can do; there's no time to clean it up right now.

Not far away, behind a relatively intact bunker made of discarded armor plates, stood a short, agile figure with darting eyes.

That was the halfling scout—Felchick.

He was peeking out with half his face visible, and several alloy darts coated with a deep purple poison were still spinning between his fingers.

He grinned, revealing a cunning smile that couldn't be hidden even amidst the extreme bloodshed, and shouted at the shield warrior.

"Hey, big guy! Don't get so worked up. Guess what the next main course is? I bet five coins I'll bet on the Bone-Eating Pangolin."

"These idiots whose brains have been soaked in swamps dare to pounce on and bite the drooling whiskers of those damn void monsters!"

The shield warrior was about to turn around and yell at the other person.

But as if to prove his jinx, no sooner had he finished speaking than a patch of scorched earth, repeatedly trampled and ravaged, suddenly rose up.

Its thick, gray tail, covered in jagged bone spikes and corroded moss, swept out like a battering ram.

boom! Click!

Two heart-stopping cracking sounds rang out, and the two crystal-clustered insects that had just poked their heads out and were trying to gather together were instantly blown apart in mid-air before they could even let out a scream.

Thick, crystallized bodily fluids and fragments of armor splattered out like dirty raindrops.

It wasn't the Night's Watch that killed them; their bodies were scattered everywhere, causing secondary consequences.

Damn it, the Void is disgusting!

On the other side of the battlefield, the air rippled like water, revealing two figures that were almost blending into the environment.

Night watch scouts.

They wore color-changing soft armor combat suits, like silent, moving shadows on the battlefield.

One of them knelt on one knee, carrying a portable chainsaw blade that emitted a sharp charging sound on his shoulder, and swung it out violently.

The rapidly spinning saw teeth emitted a chilling shriek as they precisely sliced ​​into the neck of a twisted monster that had just torn apart the outer defenses of the chaotic beast horde and was lunging at an adventurer.

It appeared to be a mutated swamp beast, but its throat was stained with a deep, dark purple-black hue from the void, with old and new wounds intertwined and blood splattered everywhere.

The monster let out a dying howl, like a bellows bursting.

Another night watchman swiftly manipulated his small rune disk, reporting in a hoarse but calm voice: "Coordinates of the third watchtower confirmed in Sector D4... The watchtower has been completely destroyed, and the remains have formed a new pile of corpses. Be careful!"

"A swamp crocodile pack of about the size of a standard mixed colony is fiercely fighting with an equal number of rift predators... targeting each other's core areas... the scene is extremely bloody and chaotic! They are tearing each other's guts out!"

His tone was completely flat, as if he were reporting the distribution of some common mineral sample.

It's no surprise.

This place has been in complete chaos lately.

Expeditionary Forces, Void Creatures, Native Creatures.

The three sides were already locked in a chaotic melee, and any encounter with the other two would result in another free-for-all. In this chaos, the expeditionary force could only adopt a defensive posture, as the other two sides were mindless, indiscriminate killing madmen, making retreat impossible.

If they retreat, the area they have painstakingly expanded will be reduced to ashes in an instant, especially since large-scale construction is still underway in many places behind them.

Deep behind this chaotic, meat-grinding scene, near the relatively safe second-line maintenance area, an unexpected scene unfolded.

An elven ranger, his once magnificent woodland armor now a patchwork of rags and mud, his blood-stained face marred only by the sharpness of his eyes that still clung to him as a high elf.

He leaned against a pile of ammunition boxes covered with tarpaulins, holding an old-fashioned wooden harmonica in his hand, and played it softly.

The notes are light and bouncy, an ancient tune from the fairy forest – "The Whispers of Green Leaves".

The melody seemed so abrupt and fragile on a battlefield filled with the roars of beasts, the roar of energy, the clash of swords, and the screams of the dying, yet it possessed an indescribable penetrating power, like a transparent little flower blooming in a quagmire of despair.

He played slowly and intently, as if the whole world consisted only of him and the harmonica in his hands.

The dried, scabbed, and dark brown bloodstains on his face, set against the backdrop of this tiny musical fragment, revealed an eerie calm mixed with a kind of unwavering madness.

Several soldiers nearby, their faces bandaged, reloading their weapons or silently sipping cheap stimulant herbs, seemed to relax slightly upon hearing the faint piano music, before returning to their work.

Bard, the bard of the elves.

Adventurer.

Moreover, judging from the power displayed in the songs he played, he was definitely an adventurer who had already obtained a professional status.

Furthermore, he had a good relationship with the Night's Watch, and likely obtained insights into the use of data-driven power from them.

This effect is achieved by blending one's singing with magic and spiritual power.

In the current chaotic and high-pressure battlefield, it can be said to be extremely effective.

"If only it were a dwarven ballad, and preferably with some dwarven liquor."

The elf who was playing the flute glanced at him sideways but ignored him.

"Shut up already, aren't you tired?" the human adventurer next to him said weakly, half-lying down.

"I am a Night's Watchman, why would I be tired? Only adventurers like you who cannot appreciate the blessings of the Night's Watchman would feel tired, you spineless coward."

Hearing the dwarf's words, the human ignored him, thinking he was just spouting nonsense.

He is an adventurer, and he also has the blessing of the Night's Watch.

But you have to understand, all the Night's Watch members had previously taken turns guarding the Void Pit.

These Void Rifts, created by the Night's Watch, serve as training areas for soldiers, effectively tempering their will and helping them adapt to and resist the mental influence of the Void.

But it was a different story for these adventurers. This period could be said to be their first time facing void creatures, and they were completely unprepared, not to mention physically.

Although the Night's Watch blessed them, preventing them from being immediately corrupted and falling into depravity.

However, they still had to silently endure the mental impact brought by the void creatures, which meant that even if their bodies could still hold on, they were indeed very exhausted mentally.

"The thought of saving the world from the apocalypse is enough to give me a headache. I really admire you Night's Watchmen for raising your banners even though you know all this."

Another orc adventurer, leaning against the wall, couldn't help but praise it as well.

You can't understand it without facing Void creatures; once you have, you'll understand the will of the Night's Watch.

"It's the torch, not the flag, you idiot! Can't you see the Night's Watch's insignia?"

The dwarf spoke fluent, fragrant language.

However, it's clear that the people around them are used to it.

Is that the main point I made?

"This is what it means to me, and your praise is meaningless. After all, everyone is saving the world. What? Now you want to run away?"

"Bullshit, you shorty!"

"What the hell did you say?! I'm going to cut your legs off, you furry pet."

The noise and commotion at least help to relieve their stress.

Those nearby couldn't help but let out jeers and laughter.

……

At the top of the towering "Iron Wall" fortress, the figure of the Sage Lurek stands like a sculpture.

He put down the heavy monocular telescope, which was covered with intricate runes.

Looking out, the entire "steel cliff" defense zone resembles a boiling oil pot.

The enormous, filthy green beast roared, smashing the strange, shimmering monster with its massive claws, which were covered in swampy sludge.

The Void Rift Hunter, its crystalline blades gleaming like shadows, precisely and ruthlessly tore apart any flesh and blood that stood in its way, whether it was a chaotic beast or a humanoid creature.

Human warriors, orc berserkers, elven archers... and the Night Watch's powerful protectors and night watchmen, relying on steel fortifications, fought fiercely, trying to stabilize the battle line and keep both destructive forces at bay.

The air was no longer air, but a viscous paste of flesh and blood, filled with violent roars, sharp hisses, dying wails, the explosions of clashing swords, the booming of bombs, and some deeper, void-originating, soul-chilling background noise.

Tragic evidence was scattered along the defense line.

Beside the remains of a void creature, reduced to only half a crystal shell, might lie a six-eyed swamp crocodile whose body has been partially dissolved by some kind of strong acid.

In the distance, on a scorched, cleared area, the wreckage of several twisted and deformed engineering vehicles silently tells the story of a failed rescue or assault.

Lurek's huge, calloused hand slowly descended, unconsciously stroking the cold, rough, serrated edge of the battle axe at his waist again and again.

The icy touch pierced through the skin, bringing a kind of almost indifferent clarity.

His jaw clenched so hard it cracked, and his gaze, almost tangible, pressed heavily on the living hell beneath his feet.

There, the chaotic flesh and blood were instinctively tearing at the crystalline remains of the void, while the warriors of order struggled to maintain their defenses amidst the chaos.

"Guard the opening of the millstone..."

The dwarven sage's voice rolled out from the depths of his throat, as deep and resonant as a boulder rolling down from the deepest mine, filled with the endless smell of slag and the thick, unyielding stench of blood.

"Let these bastards keep biting! Even if they break their teeth, let them bleed themselves dry!"

This is the only way we can try.

At the very least, these native, crazed creatures and the void are also mutually attrition.

Although the expeditionary force suffered more casualties than the Night's Watchmen.

But for Lurek, the leader of the expedition, it was still a loss. (End of Chapter)