My Players Are So Fierce

969: 329.

Wow, Subspace Correction Fist, here I come!

– Additional update [5/15]_2

969: 329.

Wow, Subspace Correction Fist, here I come!

– Additional update [5/15]_2

This isn’t right!

This kind of strength, just from its appearance, is specifically designed to counter Chaos Creatures.

How can a Subspace creature possess such power, which to them is like a deadly poison?

But previously, Murphy had bragged that he had communicated with the Avalon God.

Could this be a gift from the God of Nature?

However, no matter what perplexing thoughts sprang into the young lady’s mind at this moment, she knew that the events of tonight could not be shared with others; this was one of Murphy’s many secrets.

As a friend, she must keep this secret for Murphy.

But soon, the young lady sensed several familiar presences nearby and immediately opened her Blood wings to fly over, only to see Stick Brother carrying Wumeioge on his back, flying stealthily towards them.

Surely these two had noticed the bizarre scene here and had come to join the excitement, hoping to trigger some unique scenario.

Seeing these two guys, the young lady knew she couldn’t let them get close to the camp.

The execution of the Chaos Swordsman by Murphy was not yet complete, and Murphy probably wouldn’t want his trump card exposed in front of his warriors either.

After all, these fellows can’t keep their mouths shut, expecting them to keep a secret was absolutely impossible.

Therefore, Phemys immediately cast a spell, launching a small Maze Art around Stick Brother and Wumeioge, who he was carrying in flight, engulfing the two in layers of Psychic maze without harming them.

“Damn it, I’ve hit a ghost wall!”

As Stick Brother flew, he suddenly felt something odd about the night around him.

Meow King, being pulled along in the air, exclaimed:

“No, this can’t be right!

We’ve flown over this path before, I saw it clearly!

That tree, it’s the second time we’ve passed it, hey!

How are you flying?

Can’t you even get a straight path right?”

“What do you know, huh?

This is definitely some kind of protective Psychic Art System, maybe a Maze Art?

I’ve heard the young lady mention it before; it’s a technique specifically to trap enemies.”

Stick Brother was calm.

He hovered in the air, gazing ahead at the night sky, bursting continuously with flashing silver lights and filthy storms.

There was definitely something major happening there.

But for now, he needed to calmly figure out how to break through the Maze Art blocking his way.

“How are we supposed to get out of here?”

Wumeioge surveyed the perfectly normal earth around him.

As an Oak Knight, he did possess some secrets of Natural Psychic Power, but he was not a professional Psychic, which left him rather clueless in a situation that required wisdom and knowledge to solve.

Stick Brother brought him to the ground, scratching his head as he said:

“I’ve heard the young lady mention a solution before: either a Psychic relies on Perception to cut through the Psychic flow channels of the Maze Art and collapse its spell model,

or summon a Minotaurus from Another World.

Both low-level and high-level ones will do; those peculiar Otherworldly Minotaurs are born immune to the effects of Maze Arts, possessing a Talent that allows them free passage through all mazes.

Apart from that, the only quick way out is to rely on luck.”

“Damn it, rely on luck?”

Wumeioge suddenly felt deflated.

He seemed to lose all his previous élan, wearily waving his hand and saying:

“Then you take over.

I’ll just stay here and watch the show; I won’t join the fuss.”

“Eh, there seems to be another way; the young lady said that the duration of Maze Arts is very short, unless supported by a semi-permanent Psychic core.

Otherwise, the spell will collapse on its own due to lack of Psychic energy within ten minutes at most.

So, we could just wait it out here too.”

Stick Brother struggled to recall the Psychic common sense he had heard from the young lady while previously undertaking missions for her, eventually helplessly folding his wings and complaining:

“Damn it, even I, a close-combat-oriented Graveblade Guardsman, now have to study the mysteries of Psychic arts.

This really is annoying.”

“Everyone has their specialty.”

Wumeioge comforted him in return:

“I think when we recruit people in the future, we need to focus more on this aspect, cultivating more Psychic talents.

In this fantastical Continent, brute force alone won’t get us very far.

Look at the two of us, impressive Black Iron elites, and we’re stuck by a Maze Art that’s completely invisible.

It’s too embarrassing to even speak of.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Stick Brother nodded in agreement, stroking his chin as he said:

“But we still haven’t figured out what kind of qualities are suitable for learning Psychic Spells, right?

We don’t have this in our world, so we can’t even get a reference answer.”

“Stupid people definitely can’t learn it, anyway.”

Wumeioge snorted:

“So we recruit some smart guys?

Like ‘Lady Shui,’ that kind of genius.

She hasn’t even passed the Black Iron Trial, but her Healing from Rejuvenation Skill is more than twice as effective as mine.

It’s outrageous!”

“You don’t think there are many like ‘Lady Shui’ on our side, do you?

Lower your standards, man.

Even if we bankrupted ourselves, we wouldn’t be able to recruit one to that standard…”

“Let’s plan for the long term.”

—

“Ptui”

Within the chaotic camp, a gasping Murphy sat collapsed on the ground, the numbness from the subsiding intense pain making it hard for him to even feel his fingers.

But the outcome of this outbreak was exceptionally prominent.

In front of him, four Silver Grade elite Chaos Swordsmen had already been “disassembled.”

The scene was like a fierce wind sweeping through fallen leaves, with Murphy’s every strike, amplified by the Omega antivirus program, capable of delivering several times the “critical damage”— as if he had activated a cheat code, he was truly magnificent.