The game has become a real alternate world

Gray Rock Fortress.

At this moment, the fortress had completely transformed into a war hell known as the meat grinder.

A soldier named Vane stood on the city wall, continuously thrusting below with his long spear.

All around were his comrades, and in this moment, almost every soldier had abandoned their emotions.

With each thrust, the sensation of piercing flesh was distinctly felt.

He fiercely withdrew the spearhead from within a Ghoul and immediately kicked another Ghoul who was about to climb up, sending it flying downward with great force.

The wall had long descended into chaos, but most areas still had soldiers fiercely resisting.

Suddenly, a shriek came from the sky, along with a sense of wind brushing past.

Having been on this battlefield for three days, Vane was already entirely immersed in the fight.

In his dreams, he was slaying Ghouls with his weapon, those humanoid creatures crawling on the ground.

To have survived this long, especially on the front lines of the wall defending, was not merely due to luck.

Feeling this instinctively, he grasped his gun with one hand. With the other hand, he effortlessly drew a short blade from his waist, striking upward without even looking.

Timing the swing perfectly, he forcefully slashed and instantly severed a giant bat preparing to attack him from above.

The blade swung and directly cut off its claws, causing the severe pain to disrupt the bat's flight, sending it into a frenzied motion.

The blade dropped to his feet, and with both hands gripping the long spear, he fiercely thrust toward the bat in the sky.

Vane, filled with rage, turned to shout behind him, "Lantai, you…" His words of curses abruptly stopped.

Behind him, his comrades from the squad lay in a pool of blood.

Unbeknownst to him, the allies responsible for guarding his back and his flanks had died.

Yet that's the nature of war; his heart stirred for a moment, only to return to calmness.

Since he entered this fortress, such scenes had played out endlessly day after day.

A few support troops rushed up, wailing as they charged forward, dragging the corpses to haul them down upon seeing them.

For these soldiers tasked with transporting the wounded and the dead, every ascent to the wall was a life-risking journey.

Sobbing sounds came from beside him.

"Cry, cry, cry, all you do is cry, you coward. Pick up his weapon; if another bat comes down, you're going to regret it!"

He yelled at a nearby rookie, not even knowing the rookie's name.

Survival will be addressed after today.

Seeing the rookie still crying, he slapped him across the face, venting his own emotions.

He turned, gripping his weapon and continued fighting.

Mig looked at him, trembling arms wiping away tears, smearing blood all over his face, even blinding himself.

He had to find a clean spot to wipe again before crawling to pick up a weapon.

Standing behind seasoned soldier Vane, gripping a weapon, vigilantly watching the sky, his eyes fixated on the heavens.

Perhaps due to the heightened tension, he couldn't hear the sounds around him clearly.

When a bat descended from the sky.

He acted decisively, swiftly thrusting with the long spear.

But he missed.

Perhaps due to his excessive nervousness, the power of the thrust was too great, missing the enemy, but it blocked the bat's attack.

Vane didn't look back, continuing his assault: "Nicely done!"

Although he didn't know if the rookie behind him had killed the enemy, he at least felt the descending foe had not attacked him.

The veteran's praise somewhat energized the rookie.

Mig wanted to say something, but his eyes widened in horror.

Vane, who had just praised him, was now headless, blood gushing skyward.

The soaring blood turned into a water column, rushing into the mouth of a pale figure.

In his hand was Vane's head; it was like a humanoid creature opened a mouth filled with sharp teeth and fiercely bit into the facial area.

It tore off a large chunk of flesh, chewing it in the mouth.

Mig stood frozen like a statue, feeling his stomach churn, overwhelmed by an urge to vomit.

This was a Blood Race officer, who suddenly charged toward the wall.

As he chewed, the nearby soldiers noticed the sudden enemy surge and immediately surrounded him, attacking without hesitation.

"What a race of meat pigs." He said, blood in his hand transforming into a slender sword blade cutting horizontally.

The soldiers' weapons shattered, bodies split in half, with viscera and blood spraying everywhere.

Mig was completely kneeling on the ground, in a stupor.

"Juan! Don't rush in; you need to command the battle!" Not far away, an officer shouted to a young leader beside him.

This young leader, armored with a long sword in hand, stared intensely at the wall.

The exact spot where the Blood Race officer had charged.

"If we don't stop him, morale will collapse!"

Juan shouted, then stomped forward.

As he charged, magic power infused his left hand, attaching to the blade.

The blade became sharper, with magic power coursing through it.