Chapter 663: Players' War Preparations
"Whoosh—"
A massive teleportation gate slowly opened, and several players stepped out with steady strides.
They wore thick camouflage uniforms and steel helmets, a strong stench of gunpowder clinging to them, with the gear-shaped holy insignia of the God of Machines pinned to their chests.
—Clearly, they were all members of the [Church of the Machine God].
Leading them was a blond, blue-eyed white player. His nickname above his head read "Curtis."
"Hahaha, my friends, I've been waiting for you!" The Hobgoblin General greeted them with a hearty laugh.
The military's collaboration with the [Church of the Machine God] was deeply integrated. Their interests aligned, their goals mutual. Dolo had long considered these Starfallers, capable of producing immensely powerful weapons, as fully "his own people."
Curtis firmly shook the Hobgoblin's hand, smiling politely: "General Drol, it's an honor. I'm Curtis, Imperial Senior Military Engineer."
The guy wore glasses, appearing refined, yet his smile was unnervingly twisted.
In the previous timeline, Curtis was a notorious name among players, a self-proclaimed artist of explosions and destruction—even fellow players called him a lunatic.
Though he only joined the Empire in the [2.0 Northern Storm] expansion, he soared to prominence like a rocket thanks to American-style military-industrial prowess, becoming a Grand Sage under the Machine God's subsect, the [Restoration Covenant].
The Church of the Machine God now boasted many sub-factions: the Defender Legion, Logic Legion, Restoration Covenant, Biochemical Legion, and more.
Curtis's group focused on large-scale, destructive weaponry. Players affectionately nicknamed them "the Big Boom Camp."
Curtis's greatest feat was inventing the so-called "Magical Fusion Bomb," which turned a remote demi-plane into a smoldering, toxic wasteland and nearly drew divine attention.
"So you're Curtis..."
Hearing the name, Drol's delight deepened: "I've heard of you—the genius destroyer.
Perfect! You're exactly the kind of talent we need for this mission! Follow me!"
These players followed the Hobgoblin into Avenderdan—or rather, Wyvern City—arriving at the command center in the former dwarven palace.
A 3D magical projection hovered above the long table. Drol pointed at the savage green-skinned monsters and said gravely, "These are our enemies—Greenskin Orcs.
They are immensely strong, utterly fearless, and possess terrifying reproductive abilities. According to our intel, the orc population on Ugo Prairie has surpassed three million.
Keep in mind, just a month ago, they only had around four hundred thousand. Their numbers have multiplied tenfold in just one month!" Even Drol's face darkened as he spoke.
Facing a tide of beasts like the ocean, even an Hobgoblin couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.
There were simply too many of them!
If left unchecked, they might trigger a catastrophe even worse than the Demon Tide.
The players pulled out their documents, skimming through them and jotting down notes, the sound of pens scratching echoing in the room.
After a while, Curtis calmly looked up, adjusted his glasses, and asked:
"What is His Majesty's objective?
Merely to kill the orcs? Or to utterly obliterate Ugo Prairie, turning it into a scorched wasteland where no life can exist, cutting off the orcs' habitat for good?
If it's the former, we have several ready-to-deploy plans.
The latter is more challenging but could make for a new Restoration Covenant research project." His tone was indifferent, as if discussing a trivial matter—yet cold sweat beaded on Drol's brow.
"I think we can start by destabilizing the spatial structure, but that might affect North Aether and cause massive spatial collapse."
"Grand Sage, your Magical Fusion Bomb hasn't been tested in the main material plane yet. If we scale the yield properly, it might just work."
In just minutes, these Machine God maniacs were seriously debating how to destroy Ugo Prairie.
"N-no, no need to go that far."
Drol's lips twitched, sweat streamed down his face, and the scales on his arms nearly bristled.
Even more disturbing, after saying that, he could clearly sense disappointment and dismay in the eyes of these Starfallers.
"What a pity."
"Yeah, this kind of petty daily mission doesn't even need us."
"Tch, guess my spatial bomb will have to wait."
Forcing a smile, Drol said, "You are all imperial talents, but this time we don't need your full capabilities. Besides the orc threat, the Empire still needs Ugo Prairie as grazing land."
Madmen—all these Starfallers were complete lunatics!
Even as a war-born Hobgoblin, all Drol ever thought about was conquering the world—not destroying it like these players!
In front of such deranged players, even an Hobgoblin seemed like a lawful good sheep.
Curtis chuckled, replying, "General, in that case, let's just test some fun little 'toys'. We can't waste millions of live targets, can we?
White phosphorus, incendiaries, thermobarics, fuel-air bombs, and napalm—give those orcs a good old-fashioned barbecue."
"Uh... sure, go wild." Drol didn't know much about these weapons, but judging by their names alone, he knew they were anything but "little toys."
"Grand Sage, why not use biochemical weapons?" another player asked.
Curtis shook his head: "I've studied the Bio-Sage's experiments. Orcs have bizarre biology—they can even use toxins as energy.
From my tests, fire is best. I love the way they scream in flames. Their corpses even smell like burning herbs."
Listening to the players, Drol was increasingly stunned, realizing he was far too kind.
North Aether, inside Dragonhead City.
Wyverns circled low in the skies. Half-red-dragons and tiefling guards patrolled the walls. In the center, tall concrete buildings rose, black smoke drifting from the suburbs.
After a month of transformation, the city had acquired a thick "Imperial vibe," now almost unrecognizable from its former self, Collinsfort.
After conquering North Aether, more and more players flooded into Dragonhead City, powering its development. The original citizens had become cogs in this massive machine.
"Noodles!"
"Roar—"
Accompanied by a mighty dragon cry, a wyvern beat its wings and landed on the rooftop dragon pad.
The rider was fully armed in red-and-black armor, wearing the badge of a Dragonblood Earl of the Ember Empire. A silver longsword carved with wyverns hung from his waist.
Newbie players looked on with envy, gathering around the wyvern and gasping at the stylish, dashing rider.
"So cool!"
"Look! A Dragon Knight!"
"Is that the Empire's Crimson Scaled Conqueror? So badass! Too bad I joined too late and missed the sign-up."
"He's so cool. My dream guy would wear crimson armor and ride a wyvern to marry me..."
"That wyvern could carry more than one person, right? Big bro, can I ride behind you?"
Some fangirl players practically wrung their hands, desperate to leap onto the dragon and fly off in this knight's arms.
Amid the crowd, Mantou waved proudly. "Haha! My handsomeness shines through my armor! Fine, I'm in a good mood today. Let me bless you with a glimpse of my true face!"
Slowly, Mantou lifted his heavy faceplate and gave what he thought was a wickedly charming smile, confident he looked like a mix of Eddie Peng and Daniel Wu.
The crowd fell silent.
Seconds later, the newbies' faces twisted with awkward expressions. The fangirl froze in place, her dreams shattering.
"Dude, please, keep the helmet on!"
"Yup. Men's charm lies in female imagination. Can I take back what I said earlier?"
As disappointment filled the air, Mantou's proud grin stiffened.
The cheering, the fan girls—none of it happened as he'd imagined.
The fangirl even backed away a few steps, muttering: "Uh, actually... Empire law limits wyvern riders... I'll pass."
"Well... his gear is nice."
"Yeah, definitely a whale. That loadout must cost over 100 gold."
"Shame about the face."
Why did everyone go quiet when they saw my face? Am I that ugly?
Mantou was heartbroken. He wasn't a pretty boy, sure, but average-looking at least!
Whispers stabbed his heart like daggers.
After a pause, he braved a line: "Pretty faces are common. A charming soul is rare! Can't you feel my inner charisma?"
Silence again. The fangirl firmly shook her head.
Suddenly, someone pointed: "Wait! Isn't that Old Scammer Mantou? He hasn't posted a new video in months!"
"It's him!"
"Look at that smug face—definitely Mantou!"
"Damn, I nearly forgot what he looked like. This guy ghosted for ages!"
"Get the pigeon!"
Veterans and newbies swarmed over, some brandishing hammers and axes to vent their half-year-old frustration.
"You're Mantou? The guy who made all those Alexia videos?"
"Yeah, I remember now! I started playing because of him! No wonder I didn't recognize him—his face is forgettable."
Even the new players were chattering in excitement.
"Ohh, you were doing a skit!"
"Will we be in the video?!"
Mantou screamed internally but forced a smile. "Uh, yeah. Totally intentional. I was just filming funny content."
"No wonder you sounded so narcissistic!"
"Hahaha, I thought you really thought you were hot."
"Man, I was speechless. It was all for the show!"
As laughter rang out, Mantou turned away, staring off into the distance. The wind blew cold, and his face wore the weight of experience.
Lies don't hurt. Truth is the blade.
Old fans pushed through the crowd: "Mantou, where's the new video?!"
"You ghosted us again!"
"Damn eunuch!"
"I'm working on it! Stop throwing eggs!" Mantou ducked a flying yolk.
His face turned red, veins bulging as he shouted, "It's called gathering material, okay?"
More nonsense followed—"creating better content," "sharpening a sword for ten years" —drawing more laughter.
"Roar—"
A loud dragon cry echoed above. Another huge shadow descended as another wyvern landed.
This one wore full silver armor with crimson ribbons, even more majestic than Mantou's mount.
"Whoa, who's this? Way hotter than Mantou!"
"Even the mount's armored! A total whale!"
Boom!
Amid a cloud of dust, a knight in heavy armor landed elegantly on the dragon pad, smoother than Mantou.
He lifted his visor and called out to Mantou: "New war quest. You in?"
"Whoa, he looks familiar!"
"Hey, isn't that S-God?! A total legend!"
"Holy crap, Singo?! Last year's World League runner-up! A solo player who took down entire guilds!"
"This dragon knight's so dreamy! Didn't expect that face! I've loved him forever. Let me ride with you, please!"
Instantly, everyone abandoned Mantou. Even the fangirl switched targets, becoming a hardcore Singo stan.
Watching this pitiful scene, Mantou turned away and muttered bitterly, "Let's go. Time for the quest. These shallow mortals only chase pretty faces..."
"Roar—"
Two wyverns flapped their wings and soared into the sky, flying northeast one after the other.