The game has become a real alternate world

They didn't even know why they were sweating, or what exactly was affecting their breathing.

They only felt that such a scene inexplicably oppressed their breath.

Someone, suddenly gasped a couple of times.

Eric finally came back to his senses, taking a few deep breaths to calm his emotions.

"Let's get closer, and some of you spread out to ensure the surrounding safety."

This scene truly brought immense unease to this group of Dwarves.

They retained a vigilance like never before in their lives as they probed forward.

After dividing the work, Eric led the remaining Dwarves towards the "slaughterhouse" ahead.

As they got closer, the mountain of Goblin heads, like a small mountain facing all directions, made their eyelids twitch.

The densely packed faces piled up in agony, facing them, with many eyes forced open.

So many overlapping faces of agony and eyes even made the usually steadfast Dwarves feel as if they were hallucinating.

Their ears echoed with the auditory hallucinations of Goblin screams, as if flashes of blood splattering passed before their eyes. Spherical objects flew from bodies into the air, then crashed to the ground, beginning to roll.

"Slap!"

Without hesitation, Eric slapped his face.

This slap not only woke him but also brought the surrounding Dwarves back to consciousness.

"Don't be influenced; this is not just a massacre, but some kind of ritual."

They moved closer.

In the Goblin camp, beneath the mountain made of heads, was a large formation where blood had gathered.

At this time, the formation seemed to have lost its effect.

They searched thoroughly but couldn't find any crucial information or clues.

"What on earth is going on?" A Dwarf rubbed his arm, feeling the goosebumps all over his body.

"Look at these footprints, they're deep and large. They're human, and they were wearing armor." Another Dwarf, clearly more experienced, spoke.

He pointed to the footprints he found.

"Judging by the number of footprints, there were at least 10 people, maybe even more."

Eric, suppressing his nausea, approached the skinned bodies hanging upside down from the branches, examining the wounds and the severed necks carefully.

He even touched them with his hand.

"Very smooth, the enemy's strength is definitely not weak, generally very strong."

Eric inspected several bodies; while some had very smooth severance, others were slightly rougher.

But regardless, being able to chop off Goblins' heads so cleanly and swiftly proved the enemy's strength was not weak.

Goblins wouldn't just sit and wait for them to come and chop.

Observing the surrounding situation, he exchanged ideas with another experienced Dwarf.

They roughly analyzed a certain situation.

A group of armored, generally strong humans came here, not many in number, but all were elite.

They overwhelmed the Goblins with their strong strength, causing most of these Goblins to possibly surrender in panic.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many Goblins decapitated, with the wounds on their bodies not looking like battle injuries.

However, the surrendered Goblins were not spared by these humans, or were slain directly.

From the skinning marks.

It's very likely that these Goblins were skinned alive, then beheaded.

A complete massacre.

The watching Goblins surely had many who were frightened to death, or even died from shock, for a pervasive stench filled an area.

In the end, they sliced open wounds on the bodies, drained their blood, letting the bloody scent fill the entire woodland.

"Is this some kind of ritual? Or are these human lunatics just wanting to do this?"

A Dwarf couldn't help but ask.

"Maybe both?" Eric replied.

This scene was just too shocking, something normal people couldn't do.

Even if it was for some ritual, people capable of such things were surely lunatics, enjoying it thoroughly.

"No, it's too dangerous, whatever these humans plan, it's too dangerous.

We need to hurry back and bring the news."

This is the Gray Mountain Range, home of the Gray Mountain Dwarves, where they had lived for hundreds of years.

Unlike their ancestors, Eric's generation, from birth, grew up within this mountain range, making it their home long ago.

Whether these dangerous people had ill intents towards Dwarves or not, they must remain vigilant.

Cold sweat already beaded on Eric's forehead.

He inexplicably thought of another matter, recalling that event from a year ago.

[Rotting Monarch]

Although the two matters seemed unrelated, Eric couldn't help but think of it.

After all, he was involved almost the entire time, deeply experiencing the event.

Seeing this eerie and horrifying scene now, that hair-raising feeling.

Inexplicably reminded him of that desperation he felt with the Rotting Monarch, facing the incurable illness.

"Huff, huff, let's go quickly."

Eric urged.

Leading the Dwarves to quickly ride away on War Sheep.

They had left long before night fell.

The mountain of skulls ignited in flames, the flesh on the Goblin heads beginning to melt like wax.