A different world game? A different world game!

On the charred rocky ground, the twisted remains of demons lay scattered, and thick, purplish-black blood flowed into a murky stream.

A simple stone bone watchtower was completely destroyed, and the secondary incubation pool in the center, which was bubbling with evil energy, was also completely purified.

All that remained was a shallow pit that emitted a faint smell of burning.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of sulfur, the stench of rotting flesh, and the lingering ozone odor of the burning holy light.

Greyfang flicked the demonic filth off his signature metal claws, making a dull metallic scraping sound.

Behind him, dozens of Night Watch warriors and elite mercenaries were silently clearing the battlefield or taking a break.

The team members' [Bastion Oath] heavy armor was covered with new scratches and acid erosion marks, but the runes still shone steadily with the light of order.

Several miniature Holy Light hand cannons were set aside to cool, their muzzles still emitting a slight amount of heat.

More team members were scattered around, some resting, and others patrolling and keeping watch in the distance.

The battle was fierce but brief. This elite squad swiftly slaughtered thousands of low- and mid-level demons entrenched there, destroying this stronghold that breeds chaos.

After these few days of fighting, they have become increasingly adept at coordinating their efforts and have become more accustomed to using their new equipment to quickly form encirclement formations and eliminate the demons.

"Rest for five minutes! Replenish your energy and check your equipment!"

Graytooth's voice was hoarse but powerful.

The team members skillfully took out compressed rations and water bags and quickly ate in the ruins surrounded by demon corpses.

Some people took out alchemical ointments and applied them to minor wounds, or the support classes in the group cast simple healing spells.

For such a minor injury, drinking a whole bottle of medicine is really unnecessary.

This small ointment can easily solve these minor scratches and injuries, and restore some minor health points lost.

The only sounds in the silence were chewing and the soft clatter of armor parts; exhaustion was masked by unwavering resolve.

The break time passed quickly.

When the time is up, no further commands are needed.

Greyfang was the first to flip and leap onto his Abyssal Ironhoof pterosaur, which was covered in corrosion-resistant rune armor.

The mount let out a short neigh, and the mental barrier collar shut out the chaotic whispers around it.

The team members moved in unison, mounting their mounts one after another.

There was no cheering from the crowd; only the clanging of steel and the thunderous thud of hooves echoed through the air, creating a somber, low murmur.

"Target: the next chaotic node."

Graytooth gave the order in a low voice.

Like a sharpened blade, the squad vanished once more into the scorched earth of the abyss, thick with sulfurous fumes.

This is merely a tiny fraction of the results achieved by the five assault columns of the Abyss Task Force.

Kana hovered in the air, but this was not his true form; rather, it was a weak divine clone that followed the assault team to observe their battle situation.

Kana's main body remained in the form of a demigod, hovering behind the Order.

He had to demonstrate his power so that the other evil god would know that he had not gone to the front lines or taken action.

In the midst of this intense battle, both sides' deities are actually watching the other side's unattended counterpart.

In just a few days, the assault team achieved remarkable results, increasing the control of the Order faction by three points.

Don't underestimate these three points; for most of the past few hundred years, the market has been fluctuating around these three points.

"It's about time we couldn't hide it any longer; it seems the real obstacle is about to appear."

Kana muttered to himself.

The recent rapid advance is merely a celebration before the real obstacles are overcome.

If they want to truly achieve their previous goals, they must overcome the large force dispatched after the front lines have recovered, as well as the deity who must appear.

……

front.

Deep within the demon army on the other side of the defensive line.

The Demon Lord Balzac, the Slaughterer, stood atop a jagged, dark rock.

His massive, scarred body resembled a mobile war fortress, his blood-red compound eyes coldly scanning the vast battlefield before him, repeatedly torn apart by the light of order and the evil energy of chaos.

The deafening shouts of battle, the explosions of magic, the roars of giant beasts, and the muffled thuds of collapsing city walls were like a never-ending background noise.

The power fluctuations of a god-level being had just violently collided and receded into the distant sky—Carlos forcibly dragged away the Abyss Messenger.

Then they fought continuously from a distance, and even from such a distance, they could feel the divine power fluctuations emanating from them.

Balzac was all too familiar with the prelude to this "white-hot" atmosphere.

For thousands of years, once the gods directly intervened in the struggle, it meant that the war had entered its most brutal phase of attrition and annihilation.

Although he was dissatisfied with the lackluster attitude of his own gods, he had gotten used to it.

This isn't the first or second time this has happened.

If you can hold off the enemy's gods, you have completed your mission.

After all, if one side's gods are allowed to fight each other within their own camp, there is no possibility of winning the war.

For gods, mortal life is a complete demoralization attack; with a wave of their hand, hordes of people die.

This applies to both the warriors of the Order and the demons; it is an absolute difference in the level of life.

Fortunately, this time the Order faction is on the defensive, so there's no need to worry about a hidden deity suddenly appearing.

This is the most commonly used and simplest tactic on the battlefield.

Find a way to hide the gods.

When both sides launch a large-scale war, the attacking side hides a deity, but the defending side does not know it.

When a deity appears, and you think it has appeared and is holding the enemy back, but then another deity appears on the opposing side, the balance of the war will shift rapidly, visibly and quickly.

It's simple, direct, and brutal, and the effect is excellent.

If the gods are given a very short time to act freely and slaughter, victory in a war can be achieved in the blink of an eye.

For the most part of the bloody battles over the past few hundred years, the huge victories, whether for the Order or the Chaos faction, have all relied on this method.

After all, hiding the divine is more effective than anything else.

All sorts of conspiracies and schemes are no match for hiding a god.

At this time.

His endless tide of demons was crashing against the steel walls of the Rock Defense Line wave after wave.

Many sections of the city wall were already crumbling, engulfed in raging flames, or riddled with huge wounds from corrosive liquid.

However, what made Balzac's blood-red pupils narrow slightly was that the city walls still stood.

That damned light barrier, those armors, and especially the Night Watch supplies being continuously supplied from the rear—the Titan Gel that could instantly repair huge cracks, the alchemical weapons that were highly effective at killing demons, and the reinforcements that replenished the front lines—were like a shot of adrenaline to a dying behemoth.

"One increase, one decrease..."

Balzac let out a deep, rumbling whisper, directed at the cunning lieutenant standing to his side.

"These useless bastards on the front lines should have used the intense pressure to break through! That old bastard Edgar should have been crushed to death under the wall long ago. A single gap would have made them lose their footing, and our tide would have poured in."

His enormous claws clenched suddenly, and the air crackled under the strain.

“This can’t go on! Notify Sheila!” He turned to his adjutant, his voice carrying an undeniable cruelty.

"Let that damned, manipulative succubus, along with her bunch of hussy bitches who only know how to hide in the shadows, immediately cut off the Night's Watch's supply lines."

"I don't need them to fight head-on, I just want chaos! Create enough chaos in those tunnels and those hidden supply points."

"Let those supply lines at the front rot in the mud, let reinforcements get lost in illusions, and let them get things into Edgar's hands so easily again."

Balzac saw very clearly that the resources provided by the Night's Watch greatly relieved the pressure on the defensive line, replenished losses, and even reduced personnel casualties.

This delicate balance makes the demon's seemingly ferocious offensive seem like it has crashed into a reef that is constantly repairing itself.

"Under normal circumstances, there should be more than one gap by now..."

He anxiously assessed the situation.

The initial strategic objectives now seem hopeless, but Balzac never waged meaningless wars.

"Since we can't take it by force, let's squeeze out every last bit of value from this battle."

Balzac made the decision.

He turned his massive head toward his adjutant and issued a crucial order.

"Send an order to Gratton, telling him that his time for slacking off is over. Immediately gather all the siege beasts that are still operational under his command, and personally lead the charge."

“I need to break a real, big enough hole in the middle of the defensive line. I need to see Edgar’s Command Tower exposed to my view. I can’t wait any longer; Chaos’s share is declining.”

"The number of demons lost seems a bit too many."

"Even if I ultimately fail to take this fortress, I will tear it open and see its bones."

"The next time, the next time they launch a full-scale attack, this wound will be their grave."

Since we can't break through the defenses, we need to gather as much information as possible.

They haven't even opened a single breach in the city wall, so what kind of bullshit information can they possibly get?
The target has already been lowered once. If it is lowered again, then this war will be a true failure, which is something he cannot allow.

We must at least give him the opportunity to break through the defense again.

The order was immediately relayed by the adjutant via abyssal communication magic.

……

On the flank of the defensive line, in a huge depression filled with thick sulfurous smoke and the stench of blood.

Gradden, the lord of the abyss, lashed out at the ground with his massive tail, which was covered in thick bone plates.

Each strike sent the earth trembling and scattered debris.

His enormous head surveyed the surroundings, letting out an angry roar.

Around him were only twelve siege beasts of various shapes and sizes, all covered in wounds.

They are either like mountains or covered with sharp spikes, exuding a destructive sense of oppression.

But this number infuriated Gratton.

"Idiot! Useless! Where are the other behemoths?!"

He roared at a trembling Flomo lieutenant, spraying his foul-smelling saliva all over the man's face.

"Where are those idiots from the rear slack off? Has the will of the Abyss Mother stopped urging them forward?! Or..."

A flicker of doubt and rage flashed in Gratton's blood-red eyes.

"...Which foolish lord dared to recklessly deploy my war behemoths to fill his pointless pit?!"

As the lord of the abyss behemoths, all war beasts should be under his command.

At least on this bloody battlefield, all the giant beasts were his absolute troops.

The lieutenant, Flomo, nearly collapsed to the ground, trembling as he reported.

"Great Lord Gradden, there is no news of any new behemoths returning to the rear. What you see... is all that can be assembled at this time..."

"All of them?!" Gratton's roar made the giant beasts beside him take a step back.

That's too little!

It was much less than he expected!

The number of siege beasts was already small, and they suffered heavy losses in previous siege battles, but they should not be reduced to this few.

"Could it be that the Abyss... has truly stopped paying attention to this bloody battle?"

A thought suddenly surfaced in his chaotic and cunning mind.

This is not impossible; the gaze of the abyss is like the tide, sometimes surging, sometimes receding.

No one can fully comprehend the will of the abyss.

If the Abyss no longer casts its will, no longer accelerates the production of new siege beasts from the demon incubation pool, and even no longer bestows sufficient gifts upon it...

The idea made Gratton's massive body pause for a moment.

If the abyss no longer cares, then what is the point of him risking his life to attack that stubborn city wall?
Without the rich rewards and power of the Abyss, it would be too risky to launch a direct assault on that defensive line filled with turrets and legendary warriors.

Moreover, they do not receive sufficient benefits.

He is likely to suffer a severe injury, and may even be at risk of dying.

In the brutal competition among demon lords, once severely injured and weakened, what awaits him is the devouring of his former "comrades" and the division of their territories.

"Humph!"

Gratton exhaled a heavy breath of sulfur, his huge eyes flashing with a fierce light, but clearly carrying a hint of calculation and retreat.

"Balzac wants me to be a battering ram? Dream on!"

He roared at his adjutant.

“Go tell that arrogant fool! My men have suffered huge losses! Now all we have left is this little bit of wealth, which he can't afford to gamble with again!”
"He wants an opening, let him lead his men to break through! My behemoth needs rest and cannot withstand the massive losses from a concentrated attack!"

Grattan's excuses quickly reached Balzac.

When Graton's reply rang in Balzac's mind via magical communication, the ruthless and calculating slayer of demons erupted with a rare, volcanic rage.

"Absurd! Ridiculous! A demon lord is afraid of losing his men?!"

Balzac's roar caused the surrounding demon guards to lower their bodies in fear. Their massive bodies trembled slightly with rage, and dark red fel energy burst out uncontrollably from the gaps in their carapaces, scorching the ground.

"This is a disgrace to the Abyss! A disgrace to that coward Gradden! If it weren't for the impending battle, I would have loved to personally twist off his stupid head!"

Even the excuses are so perfunctory, completely disregarding it.

However, after his outburst of rage, the information about "the will of the abyss" and "the delay in reinforcements" mentioned by Gratton pierced Balzac's heart like a cold, poisonous thorn.

He forcibly suppressed his anger, his blood-red compound eyes once again fixed on the chaotic battlefield and the distant, turbulent depths of the abyss.

"and many more……"

Balzac's heart sank suddenly as a detail he had overlooked during his days of fighting became clear.

"These past few days... the number of newly added Lesser Demons and Horned Demons... has indeed decreased! The Abyss's hatching pool... has become less efficient?"

This discovery sent a chill down his spine even further than when he faced Edgar’s formidable defenses.

If even the gaze of the abyss is weakening, then what is the point of this bloody battle that has consumed the lives of countless demons?

Where will his strategy finally take root?

A chilling sense of crisis, for the first time, overwhelmed the burning killing intent on the battlefield, enveloping this demonic war lord. (End of Chapter)