Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

It was Friday on Earth, a day where students and workers alike eagerly dived into online games as the weekend finally arrived.

At the time when Yang Qiu issued a battle quest invitation via a system announcement to all online players, OtherWorld was seeing a staggering 95% online rate among its 3,300 players—not counting tool player accounts, the actual players online count still exceeded 3,000.

With the boastful posts on forums by veteran players, coupled with the high-quality gear only available from them, the notion that "battle quests are the most rewarding" were firmly etched into every new player's mind.

Upon the announcement, players, regardless if they were gold farming in the lumberyard, exploring the Poisonous Marshlands, soloing in the Mining Zone, teaming up for Spider Cave, honing skills in the Life Alley, or simply enjoying a stroll through Weisshem, all rushed mindlessly toward the teleportation points.

In other words, these online players were simultaneously teleported from the teleportation points at Desolate Outpost, Exile Town, Mining Zone, and Weisshem to the battlefield's frontlines.

Congestion was inevitable as players from four different locations converged at one teleportation site… and they were packed together like sardines in a can.

Wagner, standing nearly two meters tall and weighing over 100 kilograms, initially managed to avoid being overwhelmed by the undead, thanks to his size and mass. However, as the frontline camp became increasingly cramped and undead continued to spew out from the tent, even this rather formidable man was alarmed to find himself slowly lifted off the ground…

Imagining the horror of being trampled under countless undead feet if he fell, Wagner, who had never feared capture, broke into a cold sweat.

The undead trampled over their own kind. No, they never showed mercy and would cut down their own….

Wagner couldn't expect any leniency if he found himself under their feet!

In a life-or-death situation, Wagner disregarded anything else. He raised his arm toward the north and bellowed with all his might, "Enemy ahead! Time to fight, undead! Attack—!"

Organizing the undead into a somewhat orderly assault was a concern for later; his immediate priority was survival.

Players being pushed outside, either cursing or trying to regroup with their pals, instinctively looked northward upon hearing Wagner's roar.

Indeed, a large cavalry unit was rapidly approaching from the horizon, kicking up clouds of dust.

Were it any other army, being disorganized when the enemy was charging basically spelled imminent defeat.

But for these players… it was a non-issue.

"Monsters incoming!" a player shouted in delight.

"Knight monsters! Monsters covered in loot!" another player screamed in excitement, so much so his voice was shaking.

Like a dam bursting, players congested at the frontline camp immediately rushed toward the "incoming monsters," screaming and howling manically…

Wagner, lowering his center of gravity to maintain balance, sprinted out of the camp with the dispersing undead, then made a sharp 90-degree turn to distance himself from the frenzy—the encampment still housed numerous stationary undead, and more were continuously emerging from the tent. He needed to keep his distance from them!

The first wave of players charging like playful huskies at the Radiant Sun Church's knights, numbered around a thousand.

Players, though usually trigger-happy when gaming, weren't entirely devoid of sensibility. Most were aware of their own capabilities and knew that attempting to confront a large horde of humanoid monsters, known for their coordinated assaults, in a skirmish to snatch some advantage seemed ludicrous.

Thus, an utterly bizarre and bewildering spectacle unfolded across the barren battlefield—

On one side, roughly a thousand skeletons, in a snaking formation from the Weisshem camp, launched a reckless charge toward the Radiant Sun knights.

And on the other side, the remaining undead within the camp, seemingly indifferent to their comrades' sortie, were engaged in fervent "interactions"…

"Full team seeking a raid group, any leaders out there?"

"Elite six-man hunting party here, healer included, seeking a reliable raid group!"

"Any casuals teaming up? Wanderer in need of a team!"

"Need six slots, looking for wanderers, warriors, and knights!"

"Any mages? Looking for a mage! Ten babies needing support here!"

"Warrior LF team~"

Atop the plateau beyond the barren wasteland where several hundred spectators had gathered, an eerie silence prevailed…

These Indahl spectators, wielding telescopes of various makes and models, alternating their gazes between the Radiant Sun knights clashing with the thousand-strong undead vanguard and the seemingly apathetic undead horde within the Weisshem camp, collectively plunged into a mute stupor.

Could these undead be so formidable that they deemed it beneath them to exert full effort against the Radiant Sun knights?

—These were the initial thoughts that surfaced for many, still rattled by the sudden appearance of the vast undead army.

Then, before their very eyes, the disorganized and scattered undead vanguard, lacking any formation, shattered into flashes of white light beneath the iron hooves of the Radiant Sun Church's cavalry.

"Ahh!"

Among the spectators on the periphery of the platform, a man in a cap suddenly let out a harrowing cry, drawing curious glances from the middle-class observers seated on waterproof mats.

The man quickly clamped his mouth shut and tugged his cap lower.

Only when the attention of others returned to the battlefield did the cap-wearing man cautiously lift his chin, revealing an ordinary middle-aged face.

This man, appearing to be a regular laborer but with eyes far sharper and an aura slightly more menacing than most… was a night watchmen captain from the Church of Lady Gold Coin.

The night watchmen captain, who had blended in with the middle-class crowd to witness the spectacle, stared intently through his telescope at the undead vanguard disintegrating into light as a mix of sudden realization and intense frustration showed on his face…

He finally understood the bizarre circumstances surrounding Von Alphonse's "death"!

No wonder Von Alphonse had so coincidentally encountered the Nightmare Butcher right after acquiring the sealed artifact from Redwall Farm!

Everything was so straightforward, after all—Von Alphonse had been Yang's man all along!

No, that wasn't quite right. In retrospect, no one had ever heard Von Alphonse utter a single world himself… He was actually a damned undead disguised as a living being through some deceptive means!

The night watchmen captain nearly slumped to the ground in despair… The esteemed Night Watchmen division of the Church of Lady Gold Coin had been utterly duped by an undead incapable of even basic communication!

While the night watchmen captain seethed, the reactions among the surrounding crowd were markedly distinct.

Those who had bet on Weisshem looked utterly defeated as if mourning a grave loss, while those who had wagered on the Radiant Sun Church, on the other hand, were jubilant, some even laughing boisterously.

The reason was clear: the seemingly intimidating undead army was, in reality, woefully inadequate in combat prowess!

The undead army's "vanguard," which nearly matched the Radiant Sun Church's knightly order in numbers, was decimated within a mere five minutes.

At the prime viewing spot on the platform, the baroness remained stoic, a palpable tension surrounding her.

The detestable Baron Markus's boisterous cackles were audible across several pavilions as he realized the pitiful combat effectiveness of the undead army.

Gould, the loyal Bartalis steward, breathed a sigh of relief… How had such a disorganized, undisciplined mob of skeletons, incapable of even forming a proper battle line, and no better than the city guard's rawest recruits, intimidated him for a moment!

No longer paying heed to the cavalry chasing down the scattered undead, an invigorated Gould redirected his telescope toward Weisshem's camp—he needed to keep an eye on Charles Rex and ensure the latter didn't slip away unnoticed.

And then, Steward Gould saw a sight that once again greatly baffled him.

On Weisshem's front, there was no sign of fear among the undead that had yet to leave the camp at witnessing the decimation of the "vanguard." Instead, it seemed as if they were pointing and… laughing at their fleeing brethren?

…What sort of undead army is this?! Could it be that these two groups of undead aren't together?!

As Gould struggled to make sense of this bizarre situation, he saw that the rudimentary tent, which had already released at least three thousand undead, started spewing out a flood of undead once more…

"The monsters here are sick!"

Players, shoving their way out of the crowded respawn point back into the camp, made loud exclamations.

"Whoa, I got instakilled the moment I went in!"

"I shouldn't have followed the charge of you guys! Which idiot came up with this brilliant idea?"

"That stupid NPC Wagner is problematic. Sending us to our deaths right off the bat? Is he an enemy spy?"

Wagner, who was preparing to go closer and issue a mission, halted.

An experienced player, unable to tolerate the newbies' foolishness, couldn't help but chastise, "Are you guys brain-dead? Have you never played in a monster battlefield mode before? Charging headlong without even accepting the mission or forming a group?"

Not all new players took the criticism quietly, and the camp immediately filled with less than polite retorts…

"Enough talking! The monsters are coming!" a player outside the camp, spotting the cavalry monsters charging toward the encampment, let out a high-pitched warning.

Seeing the enemy approach made the tempers of players flare up.

"These battlefield monsters dare to camp at our respawn point?!"

"Kill them!"

Regardless of whether they were grouped up or not, the players drew their weapons and charged out.

Upon witnessing the entire undead force storming out from the enemy camp, Captain Roy hesitated for a mere half-second before still raising his saber. "Charge, break through their camp!"

These undead proved even more fragile than he had anticipated, yet the nondescript tent that continuously spawned legions of undead filled Captain Roy with a sense of unease.

Determined to prevent the horde from engulfing the entire wasteland, he resolved to strike first, aiming to flatten that mysterious tent.

Indeed, the instincts of this Radiant Sun Church officer were sharp. Had his strategic objective been achieved, the battle might have been swiftly concluded.

However, breaking through the dense lines of three thousand undead was no easy feat. As the fully armored knights' wedge formation penetrated deep into the undead's territory, their speed slowed considerably.

While a cavalry unit's charge could easily tear through ranks of tens of thousands of farmers, these undead, only slightly stronger than robust farmers, were a different matter entirely. Regardless of how many comrades were trampled into oblivion right before their eyes, these fearless undead continued their relentless assault, obstructing the knights with both weapons and bodies.

As the armored cavalry's charge was bogged down and could no longer instantly dispatch the approaching undead with ease, the battle reached a stalemate.

Captain Roy, commanding from the center and stuck in the fray, failed to recognize the impending disaster. Despite being outnumbered, the frail undead were rapidly diminishing in numbers, and Roy was confident of breaking through within ten minutes to reach his strategic target.

Thus, the battle raged merely two hundred meters in front of Weisshem's encampment—more precisely put, it was a one-sided massacre, where the greatest harm the undead could inflict upon the armored cavalry was the blinding flash emitted upon their demise; some knights gradually found the glare bothersome and had to squint.

Three minutes passed… five minutes… eight minutes…

Captain Roy, who had been monitoring the overall situation, began to sweat profusely.

What exactly is going on! Why are the undead numbers not diminishing no matter how many are slain?!

A sudden realization struck him, and he stood up in his stirrups, steadying himself on a soldier's shoulder.

As he glimpsed the enemy's rear formation, Roy's eyes shrunk in shock.

That bizarre tent, as if some form of strange sealed artifact, was continuously replenishing the undead numbers on the battlefield!

For every undead his knights vanquished, an equal number emerged from the tent!

Charlie Rex himself, the damned deserter, Wagner Pitt, along with those hundred or so Sokri mercenaries, hadn't even participated in the battle. Instead, they leisurely stayed on one side of the camp, watching the fray unfold as if it were mere entertainment.

"Outrageous… What honor is there in this battle!" Captain Roy, unfamiliar with the term "cheating," cursed, fretting over a solution. Despite the knights being well-rested and skillfully rotating the frontline to allow for breaks, such endless attrition was unsustainable!

While Captain Roy agonized over the knights' killing efficiency being perfectly negated by the tent's eerie "summoning of the undead," the players, blessed with proximity to the respawn point and the absence of death penalties during battle missions, naturally resorted to zerging tactics and found a breakthrough first.

"The front row of monsters rotates every 90 to 110 seconds, and the minions in the second row will switch out in sync as well… An opportunity!" Unceasing Entropy, having observed the battlefield from the center for some time, saw an opportunity and swiftly notified everyone in the group channel. "Wanderers with Windwalk on cooldown, gather at the 5 o'clock direction, hurry!"

Based on her sparkling track record, both veterans and newcomers players were quite willing to follow Unceasing Entropy's lead. Many wanderers, fresh from the respawn point, didn't push to the front but instead converged at the designated spot.

As Unceasing Entropy monitored the battlefield, especially for any rotation of the frontline armored knights, she saw that enough wanderers had gathered and commanded, "We have enough. On my count of three, activate Windwalk. Whether you duck under horses or find a gap, make your way through the first line and go for the second. Drag back as many captives as you can!"

"No problem!" The wanderers patted their bony chest enthusiastically.

The gaps between cavalry were much larger than those among infantry. When several hundred wanderers, unmatched in speed thanks to Windwalk (after all, wanderers comprised the bulk of the player base), attempted to breach the enemy's first line simultaneously, the Radiant Sun knights, already engaged in fierce combat for nearly a minute, couldn't stop them all.

Two squires, guarding their master's flanks, were diligently thrusting their spears one moment, and the next, had several grinning undead that had slipped through gaps beneath their master's horse and from the side reaching for them.

"Arghh!"

One young squire tried to dodge in panic, which unfortunately reduced his stability. In the blink of an eye, one arm and one leg of his was firmly gripped by the undead.

"Help me! Ahhhh!"

Under the astonished gaze of his master and fellow squire, the unfortunate lad was forcefully dragged off his horse by three or four undead and swiftly pulled into the mass of their kin…

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