【 FAITH AND BONDS 】

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The sounds of artillery fire thundered across the battlefield, accompanied by the roars of the Black Dragon.

Yeye followed closely behind his teammates. At the hoarse command of the chief commander, Li Mu, he unleashed the warrior skill [Cross Slash], striking down yet another charging demon.

Then, while gasping for breath, he quickly retreated, allowing the second wave of players, their skills already prepared, to step forward and unleash their attacks once more.

In this way, the players rotated in seamless coordination, covering one another.

Wave after wave, they formed a solid wall of flesh and blood upon the open plains, resisting the relentless advance of the demons.

Behind them, atop the defensive walls, mana crystal cannons fired while catapults hurled their payloads. Ranged class players loosed their arrows like falling rain, and mage players cast myriad of spells which streaked like radiant arcs across the sky.

Under the relentless barrage of artillery, spells, and arrows, demons fell like harvested wheat. Yet more surged forward without end, like an inexhaustible tide, trampling over the corpses and equipment of their fallen as they charged into battle against the players.

The dark clouds overhead grew thicker and within them, the figure of the black dragon Meryer flickered in and out of sight as he engaged in fierce combat with a Demon King.

On the ground, the clash between the player-led allied forces and the demon army had reached its peak.

By now, half a month had already passed since the second campaign began.

The cavalry force, once numbering one hundred thousand, had been entirely wiped out by the fifth day of battle.

Even the reinforcements sent by various factions had suffered severe casualties.

Aside from the elven npc forces, deliberately protected by the players, and the undead heroic spirit legion, the reinforcements of the Dark-State Alliance, the warriors of the Dwarven Kingdom, and the mercenaries and knights of Maple Moon Free State had all suffered losses exceeding half their numbers.

The aerial forces, centered around dragons and flying airships, had also sustained devastating losses in their clashes with winged demons. Nearly one third of the dragons had fallen on the battlefield, and more than eighty percent of players had permanently lost their flying monster familiars.

Yet despite incurring such brutal costs, it still did not diminish the players’ will to fight at all.

On the contrary, it only ignited the ferocity buried deep within their souls.

Is this campaign the hardest they have ever faced so far?

Absolutely.

Nonetheless, they were determined to see it through to the very end.

Even without rest, even at any cost, they would fight until the moment of victory.

No one complained on the forums anymore about the incompetent commanders.

Even the posts that had once harshly criticized the devs after the disastrous defeat of the first campaign had gradually faded into silence.

In their place were posts of encouragement and battle logs in which numerous players shared their emotions and experiences.

All of them carried the same resolve.

To inspire one another, and to keep fighting.

At this moment, the whole playerbase had fully committed themselves to this war.

They refused to believe that a human wall of a million could not stop the demons of the Abyss.

They refused to believe that five years of preparation within the game could not unite them in defeating these invaders.

Half a month in this world amounted to three days on Earth.

Even though the commander-in-chief Li Mu had deliberately scheduled the campaign during the National holiday, for most players, days of continuous combat should have meant it was time to log off and rest.

Yet among the nearly one million players across the server, more than eighty percent continued to persevere and remained online.

Many field commanders had even begun urging those who fought the hardest to take breaks and maintain balance between effort and rest.

However, almost no one left.

By unspoken agreement, most players chose to remain on the battlefield. When their exhaustion became practically unbearable, they would quietly withdraw to the rear of their formations and take brief rests within the game, only to rejoin the fight immediately afterward.

Fight and fight to the death.

And after respawning, they would immediately return to the battlefield without hesitation, once again joining the ranks of close-quarters combat to battle the demons.

This near reckless determination, this unwavering faith, moved the reinforcements from every faction.

After this war, countless stories of the Elven Chosen Ones would spread throughout the world of Seigües. Songs recounting this brutal conflict would be sung by bards far and wide.

The land had long been stained a dark crimson with blood, and broken demonic armor lay scattered across the battlefield.

Yet now, few bothered to collect these loots.

By this point, the rewards no longer mattered.

Getting equipment no longer mattered.

Even leveling up no longer mattered.

At this moment, there was only one thought in every player’s heart—to hold back the demons before them.

A shared goal and surging morale strengthened the unity of the players.

Endless warfare and day after day of struggle brought them ever closer together.

They were like a blade forged in battle, tempered by the flames of war, growing ever sharper and stronger until, after countless trials, they were finally transformed.

And as the battle continues on, the friendships and bonds between them deepened and evolved.

Former enemies set aside their grievances with a smile, fighting side by side.

Former rivals stood shoulder to shoulder, encouraging one another as they charged forward without hesitation.

This unprecedented campaign erased conflicts between guilds and dissolved grudges between players.

In this moment, they were simply just comrades in arms with a shared purpose, warriors united in the defense of their homeland.

Majestic war songs echoed in their ears, and blazing resolve filled their hearts.

If, before the war began, many had aspired to become heroes, then at this moment, they already were.

United in purpose, advancing without hesitation…

In the eyes of the people of the Maple Moon State, and in the hearts of the elves supporting from the rear, every one of them was a fearless hero.

And these heroes bore a resounding title:

The Chosen Ones of the Elves.

The longsword in Yeye’s hands had been stained a dark brown with the blood of demons and monsters, while his armor was already riddled with cracks.

Dried blood clung to his face, lending him a fierce and almost fearsome appearance.

He shouted loudly as he swung his blade, fighting and fighting without pause…

The voice of the commander-in-chief, Li Mu, had long since become hoarse. The stirring background music had changed again and again. Even the once-bright guild banners had been torn and battered by the flames of war, reduced to tattered remnants.

Yet they still flew stubbornly, dancing in the wind.

At last, accompanied by a resounding dragon’s roar, a muffled cry of pain came from the Demon King within the dark clouds.

The dark clouds hanging over the battlefield churned, the terrifying figure slowly retreated, and from the rear of the endless demon army came the deep sound of a horn.

In response, the tide-like ranks of demons faltered, their formation briefly falling into disarray. Then, they finally turned and retreated, leaving behind a battlefield strewn with shattered equipment and countless corpses.

Golden sunlight broke through the clouds and poured across the battlefield.

Panting heavily, the players watched the retreating invaders.

They exchanged glances, each seeing the same overwhelming excitement and hard-won relief reflected in the eyes of the person next to them.

In the next moment, cheers erupted across the battlefield, surging like a wave after the long, grueling clash.

Many players cast aside their weapons, some embracing one another in exhilaration, while others simply collapsed where they stood, too drained to move.

No one pursued the retreating demons.

Everyone was exhausted, their strength spent in the struggle.

Gradually, the cheers subsided, and a quiet calm settled over the field.

Some players forced themselves to stand and, in silence, began to clear the battlefield, collecting equipment and tending to the aftermath of victory.

However, compared to the frenzied looting that usually followed after great battles, they now appeared far more composed and subdued.

On one hand, the intensity of this campaign had pretty much left everyone utterly drained, with no energy for anything else. On the other, the brutality of the battle made it difficult to celebrate without restraint.

Over half a month of constant battle had forged bonds not only among players.

Many had come to know and befriend dwarves, elves, humans, and even dragons who had fought alongside them.

For players, death was merely a reset, the beginning of another attempt.

But for these reinforcements from across the lands, those whom the players had come to regard as friends and comrades, many had fallen into eternal rest.

Yeye, too, sat heavily on the ground.

He accepted a waterskin from Nana and tilted his head back, drinking deeply, replenishing himself with eager gulps.

Golden sunlight filtered through the clouds, bathing the surroundings in a dreamlike glow, casting a surreal radiance over the blood-stained battlefield.

The war songs in the background softened, becoming both solemn and majestic. Even the long cries of the dragons overhead grew distant and ancient.

They were mourning their fallen kin.

The once naive boy had grown into an experienced warrior, shaped by countless battles and hardships.

Yeye narrowed his eyes, gazing with quiet awe at the mesmerizing sunset spilling across the sky.

At the horizon, radiant clouds stretched endlessly like fragments of a dream, slowly dissolving into gold and crimson hues.

The land, once lush but now corrupted by the power of the Abyss, carried a heavy sense of desolation.

Meanwhile, even priests moved across the battlefield in solemn silence, offering prayers for the fallen.

Their murmured chants were faint and sorrowful, drifting away with the wind like fading echoes of remembrance.

After growing accustomed to the roar of battle and the thunder of artillery, the sudden stillness of the battlefield brought an unfamiliar kind of tranquility. The distant dragon cries and the soft prayers intertwined in the air, adding a layer of peace and solemnity that was difficult to put into words.

In this moment, the exhausted players gazed upon the vast and desolate surroundings, lost in quiet contemplation.

Yet this brief respite did not last long.

After a short period of rest, the players rose once more, forcing their tired bodies into motion. They began inspecting the mana crystal cannons and other long-range weapons, repairing damaged walls, and rebuilding the barriers designed to halt the advance of the demons.

They understood that the demonic army had not been truly defeated, only temporarily withdrawn to regroup.

They understood as well that the campaign was far from over, and that this bloody war would continue in the days to come.

But with the first victory secured, there would inevitably be a second, then a third, and so on.

Nevertheless.

Everyone believed that as long as they remained united and persevered, victory in the end would surely be theirs.

༺⟐༻

Southern region of the Maple Moon Free State, north of the ruined Saier Town.

Dark clouds blanketed the sky, while numerous grotesque winged demons filled the air.

Hisses and roars echoed without end.

On the ground, countless makeshift tents formed a vast encampment stretching as far as the eye could see, surrounding several Abyssal brood nests composed of blackened flesh and writhing, grotesque veins.

This was the frontline camp of the demonic army.

Demons, moving like swarming ants, busied themselves throughout the encampment. They transported felled timber and worked ceaselessly to construct siege equipment.

At the very center of the camp, beside several brood nests that constantly produced Abyssal worms, stood a towering castle.

It had once been a baron’s fortress in the Maple Moon Free State, but after it was captured by the demons, it became the residence of the Demon King commanding this army.

At this moment, within the castle:

Astaros, the Demon King who had been defeated by Meryer, knelt upon the ground, trembling.

Behind him knelt four other terrifying beings, all emanating immense and dreadful auras.

Each of them was an Abyssal Myth.

Before them floated a deep, dark portal and within it swirled gray-black mist, which coalesced into a grotesque and enormous face.

The face gazed coldly at Astaros and the other Abyssal Myths. Its voice was deep and authoritative, devoid of discernible emotion:

“So, Astaros… are you telling me that, after being given an army of millions of demons, you have fought for half a month and still failed to break through the elves’ defenses?”

Astaros’s expression shifted, his face filled with fear.

Lowering his head, he spoke in a trembling voice:

“Your Excellency Helel… I did not expect the followers of the Goddess of Life to be so difficult to contend with…”

“I had believed that with the Goddess of Life absent, as long as we held back that Black Dragon and the other mythical dragons, the demonic army would be able to sweep through everything. H-However…”

His words faltered, his body shaking.

The massive face formed of black mist let out a cold laugh.

“However, you did not expect that even after half a month, you would still fail to breach their defenses?”

Astaros lowered his head even further.

Casting a cold glance over the other Abyssal Myths present, the face gave a slight shake of disdain.

“Very well. I never placed any real expectations on a group of incompetents like you in the first place.”

With those words, the manifestation dispersed, leaving only a distant and lingering voice echoing through the castle:

“Leviathan has already completed his preparations and will soon open a second dimensional passageway…”

“If, by then, your army still cannot break through the elves’ defenses, then be prepared to face my wrath.”

The dark portal vanished, and silence returned to the castle as the oppressive aura gradually faded.

The Abyssal Myths shuddered involuntarily.

They exchanged glances, each seeing lingering fear reflected in the others’ eyes.

Astaros let out a long breath.

His gaze flickered as he murmured:

“A second passageway…”

༺⟐༻

Western region of the Elven Forest, Coastal city of Mirovia.

Since the outbreak of the war, after the resident Chosen Ones and most Frost Elves courageously joined the battle, the city had grown somewhat quieter.

However, with it being the largest gathering place of the Azurefrost Clan, it still remained far more lively compared to the current Chosen City, which was now practically empty.

At the docks of Mirovia, activity continued unabated, with ships of all sizes anchored along the harbor.

Most of them were merchant vessels that, after the outbreak of the war and the complete disruption of transport along the Vymur River, had altered their routes and sailed from the southern Kingdom of Aries to trade with the Elven Forest.

Gando stood at the dock, assisting the Frost Elven guards in maintaining order.

As a Gold-ranked expert, he had initially intended to return to the battlefield after the war began. However, the Church had once again denied his request.

Only after much persuasion had he finally been granted permission to serve as a supervisor of the port, tasked with maintaining order.

Clearly, he simply wanted to contribute and do his part after the war began, even if his role was far removed from the frontlines.

News from the frontlines arrived continuously, and the fighting seemed to be growing ever more intense with each passing report.

Yet this beautiful coastal city remained peaceful and tranquil, as if untouched by the chaos consuming the rest of the world.

Gando understood that this peace had been secured through the efforts of the Chosen Ones and their allies who fought beyond the horizon.

Just the day before, he had received news that their side had achieved a significant victory in Maple Moon, pushing back the demonic forces.

After the news spread, the residents of Mirovia had celebrated well into the night, and Gando himself had excitedly drunk several cups of wine.

“Everyone is doing their part… I cannot fall behind either…”

He let out a soft sigh.

After some thought, Gando decided that once he finished inspecting the current cargo ship, he would once again apply to the Church for permission to join the battle.

And if his attempt once again failed, then he would simply act without permission and notify them afterward, heading directly to Maple Moon to seek out the elven army and contribute on the battlefield in whatever way he could.

However, just as he was contemplating his next move, a sudden cry of alarm sounded from behind him:

“Look! What is that?”

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