A different world game? A different world game!

After a brief, dizzying sensation, as if the soul were being torn apart and then reshaped...

My feet landed on solid—or rather, on a ground that was distinctly abyssal, sticky and scorched with sulfur.

An indescribable, intensely pungent odor suddenly filled my nasal cavity.

It was the pungent smell of rust mixed with heavy sulfur, the sweet and foul stench of dried, rotten blood, and the nauseating, decadent aroma fermented from countless deaths and madness.

The air was heavy and scorching; each breath felt like swallowing a viscous liquid with grit, and a slight burning sensation instantly spread through my lungs.

If it weren't for the special helmet filtration system that automatically activated, they would probably have started coughing violently immediately.

These specially made helmets serve such a simple purpose: to filter the air, and that's all they can do for now.

After all, normal life forms find it difficult to adapt to the conditions in the abyss before entering it.

However, they were still dizzy, and the aftereffects of the teleportation were still affecting them.

After all, this is not a legend from within the world, but a legend about the world leading to the abyss, and the distance it traverses is unimaginable.

Although weakened by the characteristics of the abyss, it is still stronger than stable teleportation within the world.

Before they had sorted out their thoughts and adjusted their state of mind.

What followed was a torrent of sounds that was a hundred times noisier and a thousand times more chaotic than the main world camp.

No longer are there orderly commands and mechanical humming.

Instead, it was a cacophony of countless languages ​​and tones interwoven with roars, howls, shouts, curses, the clanging of clashing weapons, the muffled thuds of explosions, and the rumble of some enormous machine in operation…

These sounds came from all directions, both near and far, filled with primal violence and anxiety, assaulting the eardrums haphazardly.

They couldn't understand many of the languages, but the killing, anger, and despair contained in the tone of their voices were crystal clear.

These languages ​​were interspersed with murmured, seductive sounds that seemed to pierce their souls and drill into their ears.

Claw shook his head violently, trying to dispel the discomfort, and then he looked up...

The sky that came into view was an eternal, oppressive dark red.

The thick clouds, like congealed blood, hung low over the earth, obscuring the sun and stars.

A faint, sulfurous red mist filled the air, distorting and blurring the distant scenery.

The massive steel fortress's cold silhouette loomed in and out of the red mist, while the iron flower structure suspended atop the fortress emitted a soft, orderly glow, striving to purify the polluted air of the surrounding small area.

"Damn..." Claw cursed subconsciously, his voice sounding muffled inside the helmet, "This godforsaken place... even the air stinks!"

They had prepared themselves mentally before they came, but when they actually stepped inside, it seemed to be quite different from what they had imagined.

Nightingale gripped her gun tightly, warily scanning the bustling and powerful scene inside the fortress.

Even with the protection of the tranquility stone ring, the omnipresent chaotic aura still kept her on edge.

She took a deep breath of the filtered air, still carrying the faint smell of sulfur, and murmured, her voice filled with shock and a barely perceptible tremor:

"This...is the battlefield of the Abyss Bloodbath?"

Claw felt its blood throbbing restlessly beneath its skin, as if countless tiny venomous insects were gnawing at its bone marrow.

That was no unfamiliar restlessness—in the main world, this whisper from the abyss would follow one whenever a demon was hunted or one's bloodline was unstable.

But at this moment, the intensity of the whisper was amplified a hundredfold, a thousandfold!
It was no longer a blurry buzz in the background, but transformed into countless sharp, seductive, and malicious howls that poured directly into his mind, tearing at his reason.

"Uh……"

A muffled groan came from the side. Her face was pale, her fingers were gripping the edge of her helmet tightly, and the veins on her forehead were throbbing slightly.

Pan Shi pursed his lips, his breathing was heavy, his eyes were somewhat unfocused, and his strong body was trembling slightly.

Even more unusually, drowsyness lost all its laziness; its pupils contracted, and it arched its back like a startled cat.

Even the most composed Shadow had a violent struggle churning in its eerie green eyes, and its breathing could be clearly heard beneath its metal mask.

"Damn it...this godforsaken place..."

The claws squeezed out curses from between their teeth, their voices hoarse.

Those voices screamed, promising power, mocking their faith in order, and tempting them to loosen their shackles against the demonic blood within them and embrace the "origin" of this abyss.

The feeling of decadence, like thick asphalt, enveloped them from all sides, trying to permeate their souls.

They were the first witchers to step into the abyss, and the bloodline within them, which originated from the abyss, seemed to become the most conspicuous beacon of the chaotic will, attracting far more "attention" than ordinary people.

This violent, corrosive feeling cannot be fully simulated by briefings or meditation stone rings.

Just as the five felt their consciousness flicker like a candle flame in a storm, teetering on the brink of collapse—

hum!
The ironwork structure suspended atop the fortress suddenly emitted an unprecedented aura of order.

A cool, water-like wave, yet with an invisible resilience, swept across the entire fortress area in an instant, and precisely brushed against Claw and his companions.

Like a scalding hot iron being plunged into an icy spring.

The seductive, enchanting sounds in my mind seemed to be gripped tightly by an invisible hand, suddenly diminishing and becoming blurred.

Although it has not completely disappeared.

The nauseating temptations and whispers still clung stubbornly to the edge of consciousness like maggots clinging to bones.

However, the intensity had decreased from an almost unbearable level to what they had experienced when facing powerful enemies or being in extremely poor condition in the main world—a kind of annoying "noise" that, with willpower and the power of data, was enough to suppress their vigilance.

"Huh...ha..."

The nightingale took a deep breath, as if she were a drowning person surfacing, her temples damp with sweat.

The taut muscles of the rock relaxed, and he shook his head. Sleepy let out a long sigh, his eyes refocusing, but the fear had not completely faded.

He spat fiercely, feeling the tearing sensation that was almost ripping him apart finally subside.

"Damn... this godforsaken place..." Claw cursed again, but this time his tone carried a hint of lingering fear and apprehension from surviving a close call.

"This tranquility stone ring... I almost couldn't hold on! No wonder... no wonder we have to rotate it..."

He looked at the captain's shadow, whose dark green eyes had regained some clarity, but the solemnity deep in his eyes had not diminished at all.

Only then did they realize that several figures had been standing quietly not far away.

A priest dressed in the robes of a night watchman, holding a book of prayers radiating gentle holy light, was watching them with concern.

Standing beside him was a person dressed in an alchemist's uniform, holding a recording tablet and a shimmering rune pen, who had clearly been observing and recording their reactions.

"How are you feeling?" the Holy Light Priest asked gently, his voice carrying a strange, soothing power that seemed out of place in the surrounding polluted air.

"The first time you directly face the 'call' of your bloodline in the core area of ​​the abyss, the impact is always the greatest."

"The fortress's 'Barrier of Order' and your 'Stone of Tranquility' are working together effectively, and it seems to be suppressing the erosion to a manageable level."

The alchemist quickly scribbled on the record board, adding without looking up.

"The reaction intensity is at the upper limit of expectations, the bloodline resonance coefficient is high, and the peak load of the Tranquility Stone has been recorded. The data is very valuable. Thank you for your cooperation."

His tone carried the calmness of a pure researcher.

"It's okay, I can't die."

Claw muttered something in annoyed, but didn't refute the priest's words.

“Please follow me,” the Holy Light priest nodded to them, said no more, and turned to lead the way. “I will take you to the Night Watch quarters to settle down.”

The group finally left the core area of ​​the teleportation plaza and began to truly enter the interior of this steel fortress standing on the filthy land of the abyss.

Claw and his companions struggled to regulate their breathing, adjusting to the pervasive stench of sulfur and the oppressive pressure, while curiously observing this world, so different from the City of the Ring Tower.

What first assaulted their senses were the "people" walking inside the fortress.

They had seen the elegance of elves, the sturdiness of dwarves, and the diversity of humans, but here, the richness and...strangeness of the races far exceeded their imagination!
A minotaur warrior, nearly three meters tall with muscles as bulging as rocks, carried a massive stone pillar thicker than his waist, engraved with primitive totems.

Each step he took echoed dully on the ground, and as you walked past him, the strong smell of sweat and the wildness of his body hit you.

Not far away, a humanoid creature had a bald head with six curved, sharp horns that looked like they were polished from obsidian.

What's even more chilling is his face—not two eyes, but six compound eyes arranged like a spider, gleaming with a cold red light.

When that gaze swept over him, Claw felt goosebumps rise on his skin.

Further away, there was a strange race whose lower body was a thick snake tail covered with dark green scales, but whose upper body had six muscular arms.

He was using two of his arms to grab a large piece of charred, roasted meat that smelled of some animal and chewing it vigorously.

The other arms deftly manipulated several oddly shaped weapons.

Some humanoid creatures with slender bodies, skin like tree bark, and spikes growing from their joints walked by silently.

Of course, there were also familiar elves, though their eyes were a hundred times sharper and fiercer than those of the elves in the main world.

Dwarves are a race with very different styles of armor, stained with congealed dark blood, and who resemble humans in appearance but have distinctly inhuman features in their skin, eye color, or other physical characteristics.

Regardless of their race, they all exuded an extremely similar aura.

The murderous aura was so intense it was almost tangible, like armor soaked in blood.

Iron-blooded, resilient, and with a cold will that seems to have crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood.

Their equipment was covered in the marks of battle—deep claw marks, scorched black, and chipped edges on their weapons…

Each figure was like a drawn, blood-soaked, deadly blade, radiating a dangerous signal that warned strangers to stay away.

Claw had no doubt that any character here who looked like a grunt could be a battle-hardened veteran in the main world.

"The Abyss Forge..." Rock murmured, his voice filled with awe.

The Furnace, that's what many people call the Abyss, especially the Bloodbath Battlefield, which is like a furnace that forges a person.

To integrate death into everything.

Nightingale instinctively gripped the "Messenger of Tranquility" at her waist.

The interior of the fortress was much larger than they had anticipated, resembling a fully functional, three-dimensional steel fortress.

They were just at the teleportation and command hub in the core area.

Walking outwards, we passed through an area filled with various government offices.

The markings for each department of the Night's Watch were clearly visible: logistics, equipment, intelligence, medical...

But the most eye-catching is the largest and busiest of them all – the Night Watchers Merchant Guild (Abyss Branch).

A long queue formed at the entrance, with warriors of various races coming and going, carrying boxes of supplies, creating a lively scene.

"A chamber of commerce?" Claw asked, somewhat surprised. "How can business be so good in a godforsaken place like this?"

"Didn't you hear what that person said before?"

"I'm so nervous, you know what I mean."

"Abyssal specialties, strategic resources, interdimensional trade... This is an important node connecting Blood War Fortress and our world, and the Chamber of Commerce has plenty of work to do."

The pastor who was leading the way gave a brief explanation.

As they walked further out, the sight left them speechless.

On both sides of a wide but somewhat chaotic main road, all kinds of shops are crowded together.

This place has become a huge, vibrant... or rather, a rough and chaotic market.

It is completely different from the neat and orderly commercial districts of the city surrounding the tower.

Most of the shops here have small storefronts, and many simply set up makeshift stalls on the roadside, piled high with goods that can only be described as "overturned".

Gleaming ores, animal hides reeking of blood or sulfur, twisted and coiled roots of unknown plants, and fragments of broken weapons and armor that still exude a dangerous aura...

All sorts of oddly shaped and strangely colored materials and goods are piled up haphazardly on the stalls like small mountains, and some even roll into the middle of the road, waiting for customers to pick them up.

The cacophony of hawking, haggling, and various languages ​​mingled together.

The heavy footsteps and the hum of the transport of the components... all merged into a deafening sound wave.

The air was thick with an even stronger mixture of odors—the stench of sweat, cheap grease, burnt meat, rusty metal, the pungent aroma of herbs, and an overwhelming, nauseating stench of evil belonging to all sorts of demons and abyssal creatures.

These flavors were all too familiar to them.

"This this……"

The nightingale stared in disbelief at a stall where several huge carapaces, still covered in thick, dark purple blood and bits of flesh, were carelessly tossed about, next to which were bundles of black feathers radiating a chilling aura.

Claw's occupational hazard kicked in instantly.

His nose twitched, and his eyes sharpened like knives.

His body tensed instinctively, his fingers even slightly curling, as if he were about to pounce and "collect evidence" and "purify" the next second. (End of Chapter)