Chapter 180 | The Players
Chapter 180 | The Players
The Goblin Tribe was known as the renegades of darkness, but not all goblins embraced betrayal.
Once, an elder known simply as Gambore had a name, and in his prime, he was the leader of the Goblin Tribe. However, his reign was marred by a lack of leadership skills. A single mistake plunged him into irredeemable ruin.
When the Goblin Tribe chose to defect and flee from darkness, Gambore stayed behind. He firmly believed he was in the right.
What others perceived as the endless terror of darkness was, in his eyes, a brilliance far surpassing daylight.
“Elder Gambore? Elder Gambore!”
A panicked and uneasy female voice snapped him back to reality.
Big Bear could feel the oppressive atmosphere in this place. Every creature around her was far more powerful than she was, and the barely concealed pressure emanating from them filled her with dread, making her want to turn back.
Her instincts screamed retreat. The shelters in her region had almost all been destroyed. For the first time, her abilities had failed her. That monstrous being, relentless and unstoppable, had targeted her shelter.
Just as she believed all was lost, Gambore had appeared and whisked her away to safety.
The brush with death left Big Bear breathless. No matter how many times she experienced it, the feeling of her life slipping away never became any less terrifying.
To claim she was unafraid would be a lie.
At that moment, Gambore asked her, “Do you want to change the way you live?”
“Do you want to be on the winning side?”
Shortly afterward, she received a strange special mission from the system. What was even more bizarre was that ever since accepting the mission, no monster had dared to attack her.
Gambore had pressed on relentlessly, leading her to a peculiar place surrounded by towering black spires.
The area teemed with all kinds of monsters. Finally, Big Bear realized what felt so off about this place—it was a mirror image of a human city, but its inhabitants were not human. They were monsters.
As she neared the base of the city walls, a system prompt flashed before her eyes:
[Special Condition Detected. Hidden Trait Unlocked!]
[Change Guardian Faction? Yes/No]
Was this the so-called path to victory? If she refused, she would likely meet her end here.
[Yes]
[Warning! Warning!]
[Player Big Bear's Guardian Faction has been changed! Please note: Your selected Guardian Faction is—Darkness!]
[Guard your faction. Be loyal to your faction. Crush the opposing faction!]
[Player Big Bear’s Guardian Faction can no longer be changed! Your data is being erased…]
...
"Ah!"
A disheveled woman slammed her head onto her desk, her bloodshot eyes seething with hatred and frustration.
Her desk was cluttered with countless files, documents, and a meticulously arranged schedule of tasks yet to be tackled.
Ultimately, she let out a pained groan of anguish.
Becoming a leader was far harder than Athena had ever imagined. And this time, she didn’t even have competent aides by her side.
The chaos engulfing the city presented countless challenges, far more than she had anticipated.
Repairing the city walls wasn’t merely a matter of stacking stones. These defensive structures required intricate craftsmanship and complex methods to restore.
The three days allotted for the task were woefully insufficient. Despite their best efforts, they had only managed to produce a subpar replacement.
She had spent the days inspecting progress in various departments, mediating minor disputes, mourning fallen soldiers, treating the wounded, and finding homes for players.
Three days. Three relentless, spirit-crushing days. Even amidst this grueling schedule, she still carved out time to craft her explosive spheres.
The city state’s material reserves paled in comparison to the resources her loyal giant bees had once scavenged for her in the Black Forest.
Even so, she managed to produce forty-seven explosive spheres. Her improving skills showed in the quality: thirty-one were of standard grade, while sixteen were of superior quality.
With one hand propping up her weary face, she forced herself to relax. Once she felt marginally restored, she began methodically tidying up her appearance.
Her hair, a disheveled mess resembling that of a madwoman, was the first thing she fixed.
Today marked the third day. Tomorrow was the battle.
For three days, she had tirelessly prepared, refining plans and strategies. Now, at last, it was time to test the results of her efforts.
Taking a deep breath, she left her room.
The resources had been replenished, and the troop strength bolstered. While the city walls couldn’t compare to their former glory, they were functional enough to serve their purpose.
Her deployments were in place. All she could do now was pray that everything went according to plan.
As she approached the camp of wounded soldiers, an old man emerged, walking unsteadily. The intense workload of the past few days had left him on the verge of collapse.
No one truly enjoyed work.
Even as he moved, the elderly man pounded his aching back with a gnarled hand.
Though Athena wasn’t particularly close to him or the others, casual conversation with them wasn’t a problem.
His hair was snow-white. Athena had asked for his name several times, but the cunning old man always evaded the question. Since it wasn’t an urgent matter, she hadn’t pressed him further.
“Captain Athena,” he addressed her.
Although she had been promoted in the city's hierarchy, the group of prisoners who had followed her here still referred to her as Captain Athena.
“Are you really sure we can trust those people?”
Though aged, his eyes remained sharp, scrutinizing her with unwavering intensity, as if trying to discern any hesitation.
Athena raised an eyebrow. This was the fourth person to ask her that question in recent days.
From the beginning, it seemed, ordinary residents were indifferent. But those privy to the truth harbored an ingrained distrust, even hatred, for the players—those third-world invaders.
Human nature often reacted with fear and unease toward the uncontrollable and the unknown. But their aversion to the players went far beyond that. It was a resentment deeply rooted in something else.
Some of these individuals had never encountered third-world players, while others had only heard rumors. Yet their reactions were strangely unified.
To them, players were utterly untrustworthy and completely unusable.
Athena wasn’t a native of this world, and she couldn’t understand their perspectives. Neither could she afford to speak carelessly.
The mistrust toward players had been evident in the Sol Kingdom, and it persisted in this new nation.
Even during her journey to the goblin lands, their hostility was apparent. It suggested one chilling possibility: she and her allies were not the first players to step into this world.
So, where had the original players gone? Why had the world seemingly erased all traces of their existence?
Just what exactly is the reason why she and others are transported in this world?
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