【 ENEMY AT THE GATES 】

What does it truly mean to have an army of a hundred thousand?

Many people have no real sense of scale, no clear concept of such numbers.

But today, as players gazed upon the vast, rolling hills covered in a sea of heads, as they saw tents stretching beyond the horizon, even the most composed among them felt their blood boil.

It was a scene beyond words.

Especially now that most upper Iron-rank players had upgraded their gear to epic-class Iron-rank armor set.

Although the armor designs varied by class, the overall aesthetic remained unified. Now, with everyone clad in matching gear, the players exuded an imposing presence, just like a true army from the age of cold steel.

No, even more than that.

Even in historical eras of cold weapon warfare, no such army had ever achieved this kind of uniformity in equipment.

Not only was their gear meticulously standardized, but it was also strikingly ornate. Add in the fact that they were accompanied by magical beasts, which gave the players an air of fantasy that no historical army on Earth could ever match.

Being able to participate in such a grand event filled every player’s heart with an indescribable sense of pride and excitement.

And, of course, the rousing background music also further elevated the atmosphere.

At Li Mu’s command, a rhythmic, electrifying melody surged through the battlefield channel, stirring every player’s nerves in the voice chat.

At that moment, everyone finally realized that it was time to set off.

One by one, each players dismantled their tents, storing them in spatial equipment or loading them up onto their respective guild supply carts.

That’s right, the players also had supply lines.

Though many elite players owned spatial equipment, the vast majority still didn’t have such a convenient storage item.

And in this unconventional game, where an “inventory system” had yet to be implemented, the players had no choice but to learn and adapt to real-world military logistics.

They prepared supply lines just as real-life armies did. Stockpiling food, crafting siege equipment, and securing spare gear, all meticulously arranged to ensure they could sustain the war efforts.

Naturally, these provisions were organized at the guild level, with the four major guilds shouldering most of the burden.

Smaller guilds and solo players, on the other hand, primarily contributed manpower, relying on the larger guilds for logistical support.

It was a system born out of necessity, yet one that fostered a surprising sense of camaraderie and coordination among the players, making the mobilization swift and efficient.

The moment Li Mu issued the assembly order, every player immediately sprang into action.

They first organized themselves into basic parties, which then merged into battalions, and ultimately coalesced into massive armies centered around the four great guilds.

From a distance, they resembled streams merging into rivers, converging into a vast flood that surged southward along the mountainside, forming four colossal battle groups composed of a total of 120,000 players.

Alongside them marched 60,000 magical beasts and over 2,000 wagons and camels—spoils taken from the Soren Trading Company and the orcs, now repurposed as supply transport.

In addition, alongside them were 60,000 magical beasts of various types, as well as more than 2,000 carriages and camels captured from Sauron, along with some prisoner orcs serving as baggage carriers…

Standing beside Zero, Saintess Alice watched in awe at the staggering force before her.

This was her first time personally witnessing an army of tens of thousands of players gathered like this.

But what stunned her was not just the sheer spectacle but also their efficiency and cohesion.

Never could she have imagined that the usually free-spirited, undisciplined Chosen Ones could display such discipline and order.

After Li Mu gave the order, they were able to organize and reposition in their formation so quickly in such a short time.

She had no way of knowing that this was a tradition of large-scale faction wars in MMORPGs.

No matter how lazy or unruly most players were in normal times, when it came to faction battles, they instinctively reined in their mischief, obeyed orders, and seamlessly became cogs in the greater war machine.

It was the desire to win.

The pride of belonging to a faction.

Although Elven Kingdom’s war campaigns were not PvP faction battles, after spending a long time playing the game, everyone had already developed a strong sense of honor and belongingness to their faction.

And with that came an unshakable cohesion.

Fifteen minutes later, the Elven army was finally ready.

Li Mu, astride his bronze dragon, soared above the assembled forces with a solemn expression.

From his vantage point, the minimap in the upper right corner of his vision no longer showed individual player markers.

Instead, there were only four massive solid blocks, each representing a battalion of tens of thousands.

He cast one last glance at the magnificent army before shifting his gaze to the distant, endless golden sands—their soon-to-be battlefield, the Desert of Death.

Raising his ceremonial command sword high, he shouted:

“For the Elven race! For the Goddess! Onward!”

His voice thundered across the battlefield voice channel.

And then, an earthshaking chorus rose from the player ranks:

“For the Elven race! For the Goddess!”

The shout echoed through the Black Mountain Range, bouncing off jagged cliffs and rolling across the vast expanse, as if the mountains themselves had taken up the cry.

Then, they finally began marching.

Each player mounted their own magical beast, with some riding alone while others moving in pairs or groups of three.

The four massive armies, like titanic floods, surged forward, their formations shifting like rivers converging into an unstoppable tide. Step by step, they slowly gained momentum, their charge transforming from an organized march into a full-speed advance toward the Desert of Death.

The earth trembled beneath their approach, its deep rumble mingling with the distant howls of magical beasts. Dust billowed in their wake, rising up like a storm as the elven army thundered forth, unstoppable, unwavering and ready for war.

༺⟐༻

Desert of Death, Golden Canopy Tribe

This was one of the largest orc tribes near the Dark Mountain Range, rivaling the Silver Canopy Tribe in both power and influence.

With a population exceeding ten thousand, it stood as a dominant force in the region, ruling over numerous smaller tribes.

On the outer walls of the Golden Canopy Tribe’s fortifications, a robed orc priest patrolled the perimeter. He was flanked by two orc warriors, their watchful eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

He was the High Priest of the Golden Canopy Tribe.

As the tribe’s spiritual leader, this was his routine duty.

Ever since those wretched elves had begun raiding orc settlements across the Desert, he had made it a habit to personally inspect their defenses each day.

Despite the Golden Canopy Tribe’s population exceeding ten thousand, the High Priest remained ever vigilant. He knew all too well that these long-eared invaders, much like the deceitful humans, were cunning creatures. They struck from the shadows and exploited any weaknesses they could find.

Especially now, after they had issued a formal declaration of war.

To the High Priest, these elves were nothing short of lunatics.

After declaring war, these crazy guys went on a frenzied rampage, launching attacks on various orc tribes across the Desert, shattering what little stability remained, and plunging the already chaotic region into even greater turmoil.

Nevertheless, the past two days had been strangely quiet.

It was as if those evil elves had vanished overnight and two full days had passed without a single report of an attack.

But the quieter it became, the more uneasy the High Priest felt.

Recalling the contents of the elves’ declaration of war, an ominous thought crept into his mind:

“Could they really be planning to invade the Desert of Death?”

He had already received a copy of the declaration sent to the Silver Canopy Tribe.

Ignoring the supposed personal intervention of the “Evil Elven Goddess,” which he dismissed outright, he found the claim that the elven army had a hundred thousand warriors utterly ridiculous.

To him, these elves were no different from deceitful humans, and his beliefs were reinforced by those rumors suggesting they had also been swindling others in the underground.

As such, their claims are probably the same as those humans who like to brag, exaggerating ten thousand into thirty thousand and thirty thousand into one hundred thousand, which was totally absurd…

Heck, the elven race didn’t have a large population to begin with, so how could they possibly assemble such a massive army in such a short amount of time?

What a ridiculous bluff.

Did they not fear being laughed at?

Of course, he was aware of the recent war that happened in the underground.

Reports indicated that the elves had fielded twenty thousand troops in that conflict.

The High Priest figured that was the real extent of their military strength.

Still, even twenty thousand was beyond what the Golden Canopy Tribe could withstand.

That being said, his tribe was not the Silver Canopy Tribe.

Although they were also positioned near the Dark Mountain Range, the Golden Canopy Tribe was surrounded by several other major orc tribes, forming a network of allies that could rally to their defense at a moment’s notice. If the elves dared to attack, reinforcements would arrive swiftly.

Besides, if the elves were truly planning an invasion, their first target would surely be the Silver Canopy Tribe.

Therefore, his tribe would have ample time to summon reinforcements and prepare their defenses.

In fact, if things played out well, they could even coordinate with the other tribes to aid the Silver Canopy Tribe. Thereby winning their favor while positioning themselves advantageously.

“Heh… the Silver Canopy Tribe has amassed quite a fortune hunting elves over the years, thanks to their proximity to the Dark Mountain Range.”

The High Priest smirked at the thought.

Having completed his patrol of the walls, he was about to return to his tent for the day’s prayers when a sudden exclamation from a watchtower guard broke the surrounding silence:

“What is that?!”

Hmm?

The High Priest halted mid-step.

He turned toward the watchtower, following the guard’s gaze beyond the northern walls.

From his position below, his view was somewhat obstructed, but in the distance, on the far horizon, he noticed something…

—A towering cloud of dust rising into the sky.

Hmm?

His heart skipped a beat.

A vague, creeping sense of dread washed over him.

Then, another cry came from the tower—this time, filled with alarm:

“E-Elves! There’s so many of them!”

Elves?!

The High Priest’s expression darkened.

Without hesitation, he spun around and quickly ascended the watchtower.

Pushing past the gawking guards, he seized a spyglass and peered northward. Through the magnified lens, he finally saw it more clearly.

A massive dust cloud stretched from east to west, sweeping across the land like a sandstorm.

And within that dust storm…

Countless figures emerged one after another.

Their exact numbers were impossible to discern, but the beasts they rode left no doubt as to their identity.

Only those evil elves traveled in this manner.

“They’re actually attacking us?”

The High Priest was stunned.

It wasn’t the invasion itself that shocked him as he had already long considered it a possibility.

No.

What truly unsettled him was the elves’ choice of target.

Why had they bypassed the nearby Silver Canopy Tribe and instead attacked his tribe, which was much closer to other large tribes?

The elves moved fast.

Beneath the distant rumbling, the High Priest felt the ground tremble ever so slightly.

The dust storm loomed closer and closer…

“Sound the alarm bell! Prepare for Battle!”

The High Priest spun around, issuing the command.

At his order, the entire Golden Canopy Tribe erupted into action. Yet, he chose to remain atop the watchtower, gazing at the approaching elven invasion force.

His expression once again regained its calmness.

His tribe’s location was their greatest advantage.

Before making any rash decisions, he needed to gauge the elves’ exact numbers. Only then could he determine whether asking for reinforcements was truly necessary.

If the enemy’s numbers weren’t too large, then perhaps their tribe might be able to hold their ground on their own.

But as the elven army drew closer, his calm demeanor quickly shifted—first to shock, then to grim severity.

“T-This… their numbers are clearly over ten thousand… Twenty thousand? No… thirty? Have they mobilized their entire army? Are they taking a detour to attack us?”

The sheer mass of the advancing elven forces turned his expression darker by the second.

This was an army far beyond the Golden Canopy Tribe’s ability to resist.

Even so, the High Priest did not panic.

They still had options.

“Quickly! Send messengers to the Silver Canopy Tribe, the Obsidian Tribe, and the Mountain Roar Tribe! Request reinforcements!”

These neighboring tribes, each with populations in the tens of thousands, would surely respond.

At his command, the messengers immediately set off at full speed.

The High Priest remained where he stood, carefully observing the approaching elven army in the distance.

And the longer he watched, the more disturbed he became.

These elves…

They weren’t just numerous. They were well-armed, highly disciplined, and alarmingly, he could also sense some powerful individuals amongst their ranks.

“It’s fine… Fortunately, our tribe is situated in a favorable geographical location. If anything, it’s their misfortune that they chose to attack us first…”

He tried to reassure himself.

But just then—

One of the messengers he had just dispatched came rushing back.

His face was ashen, his eyes filled with terror and confusion.

He was gasping for breath, shaken as if he had seen a nightmare come to life.

The High Priest frowned.

“Did I not send you to request aid?”

The messenger trembled, his voice wavering with fear.

“H-High Priest… The other tribes… t-they sent over their messengers too…”

“What?”

The High Priest paused, momentarily taken aback.

But the soldier’s next words froze him in place.

“T-They… They too came to request reinforcements from us! Their tribes are also currently under attack!”

“What?!”

The High Priest’s eyes widened in shock.

This doesn’t make sense.

Weren’t the elves supposed to be attacking us?

They’re simultaneously attacking multiple tribes?

Wait… if all of the tribes in the vicinity were also requesting reinforcements then…

Just how many elves are there?!

A deep, unsettling feeling crept up his spine.

Suddenly, three bloodied, battle-worn orcs stumbled into his view, escorted by some warriors.

The moment they laid eyes on him, they collapsed to the ground, utterly drained.

Their faces were deathly pale, their expressions twisted with exhaustion, terror, and despair.

The High Priest lunged forward, grabbing one of them by the collar.

“Speak! What happened?!” he demanded, his voice nearly a shout.

The moment he heard their answer, his entire expression changed.

“…What did you say?”

“The Silver Canopy Tribe, the Obsidian Tribe, and the Mountain Roar Tribe are all under attack by massive elven forces! The elves are assaulting each surrounding tribes with armies numbering at least twenty or thirty thousand!”

The High Priest instinctively staggered backward.

His mind echoed with a single, terrifying thought:

“…One hundred thousand.”

He was wrong.

The elves really did have a hundred-thousand-strong army.

And they weren’t bluffing as he had initially assumed.

They had actually split into four separate forces, each launching a simultaneous offensive against every major orc tribes near the Dark Mountain Range.

These cursed, long-eared schemers!

For once, they hadn’t lied.

For once, they had spoken the absolute truth, but it was his blunder that he hadn’t believed them at all!

“…This is bad,”

The High Priest muttered under his breath.

Beyond the tribe’s fortified walls, distant battle cries kept getting louder and louder, signaling that the elven army was nearly upon them.

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