My Players Are So Fierce

1373: 463.

Are all the newbies in Transylvania monsters?

_3

1373: 463.

Are all the newbies in Transylvania monsters?

_3

A foul stench wafted through the air, the scent of the marshland, but to Old Qin, it had a flavor all its own.

That was the wind of war…

“Ah, the glory days of yore, with golden spear and iron steed, we vanquished the barbarian foe.”

This old fella even hummed a few strange tunes, truly getting into the feel of things.

But in the next second, a Flame Strike Skill whooshed down from the sky.

That vast and sudden inferno almost engulfed half of the high ground, swallowing up seven or eight of the joyful student faction and other newbies, completely enveloping both man and cannon in a burst of flame.

They disappeared to the west without even a chance to scream.

The dormitory of Deep-fried Sweet Potato instantly erupted with curses, as three guys sprang from their beds, tossing aside their helmets and cursing at the heavens.

Their emotions were clearly still caught in the excitement of moments before; after a round of swearing, they gathered around the only surviving Deep-fried Sweet Potato, encircling his bed like a Heretical Sect ritual, watching over the helmeted Deep-fried Sweet Potato on the bed.

It seemed they were intending to use this method to encourage their good brother to keep fighting in the marshland and not to bring shame to their dorm.

“Cough cough”

Old Qin, who was sent flying by the shockwave that accompanied the Flame Strike Skill, struggled up with difficulty.

Shaking his head, he felt concussed, viscous blood dripping from his nostrils.

Lucky this was just a game—if this had been real life, he’d probably never even have had the chance to see the ICU.

“Fuck.”

He cursed, staggering forward to pick up the scalding, twisted wrench to continue aiming the flipped missile, while the only remaining Deep-fried Sweet Potato and Rainbow Cat behind him had gone mad.

These two had also been singed by the Flame Strike Skill; their clothes ignited, making them look like scarecrows who had crawled out of a fire, but they didn’t stop until they’d fired off the last cannon round as instructed by Old Qin.

The final shot was fired by Deep-fried Sweet Potato.

And it was sheer dumb luck that it landed right beneath the oncoming Necromancer’s feet with a thunderous blast, shattering both the skeleton horse he rode and the Guard by his side.

Unfortunately, since it wasn’t a white phosphorus bomb it couldn’t deal more extensive damage, and the Necromancer, thrown into the mud and protected by a Psionic Shield, was unharmed.

However, the flickering blue light in its eye sockets betrayed its now highly unstable emotions.

It had realized that there were only six people on that high ground!

And three of them had already been instantly killed by its own Flame Strike Skill, but the remaining three still managed to cause it such trouble!

What on earth was the origin of those confounded curved artillery cannons capable of rapid-fire and flexible angle adjustments?

Why did these people of Transia have weapons that not even the Half-body Man possessed?

It grew more curious.

Its curiosity for these “warriors” had now surpassed the orders it had to carry out this time.

With all the noise made by those countless cannonballs hitting this spot, unless the vampires were all deaf, there’s no way they could have missed this attack—the assault had essentially failed.

But never mind!

It still had plenty of opportunities to employ the same old tricks.

Right now, it just wanted to see these people of Transia with its own eyes.

In its past memories, this land indeed bred fearless barbarians, but such agile and ferocious attacks didn’t seem like something traditional people of Transia could conjure up.

If they truly had such tactical capabilities, they wouldn’t suffer so heavily from every Black Disaster.

Something unknown must have happened on this land that it was not privy to.

“They’re coming up!”

Deep-fried Sweet Potato shouted.

Before his eyes, several Skeleton Soldiers were already climbing up, brandishing weapons and charging at them.

It was too late to run now.

The young art student turned back for a look—Old Qin was leaning on the dismantled missile, gasping for air, his midsection torn open by the recent Flame Strike Skill and still burning.

The old man was on his last breath.

“Run!”

Old Qin tossed his bayoneted rifle to Rainbow Cat, signaling him to run fast; he was prepared to detonate the missile.

As for Deep-fried Sweet Potato…

Old Qin only had time to give a thumbs-up to this young man who had persevered to the end, then saw Deep-fried Sweet Potato, aflame, wielding his rifle and charging toward the incoming Skeleton Soldiers with a ferocious howl.

His momentum was mighty, like a warrior crawled out from Hell, yet his combat skills were too crude for words, knocked down by a hammer blow from a Skeleton Knight in the first round.

Then, amidst vulgar cursing, several grenades strapped to his body were detonated, sending the surrounding Skeleton Soldiers flying away.

Hmm, a final charge befitting the posture of a warrior, though to little avail…

Rainbow Cat had already taken the chaos as a chance to leap off the high ground.

Not because he was cowardly.

Having fought to this point, he could not be described as timid.

He had to get clear of the missile’s blast range—at least one of them had to survive, right?

Old Qin’s health bar was at rock bottom.

His consciousness was blurring; it was as if he was revisiting the battles of yesteryears in the Paracel Islands, vaguely seeing the vigorous charge of his comrades.

Sigh, those old buddies weren’t fortunate enough to enjoy the good days like now.

The gathering Skeleton Soldiers approached, and though Old Qin intended to detonate the missile immediately, he suddenly realized they weren’t attacking him.

Seizing the opportunity, he feigned weakness and waited.

Soon enough, he saw a guarded Necromancer approach the high ground, the cold Spiritual Fire in its eyes seemingly asking questions.

But Old Qin no longer had the strength to answer.

Nor did he need to.

In the moment the Necromancer drew near, Old Qin revealed a gruesome smile and, with the last of his strength, struck the twisted wrench down on the chemical detonator of the missile behind him.

“Boom”

A fearsome blaze erupted in an instant, as the “Happy Bullets of Li Mei” roared for the first time on the marshland battlefield.

A sky full of flames fell like shooting stars, engulfing the entire high ground and everything around in a mass of sticky, burning fire.

And above in the sky, Ayu performed an abrupt stop in mid-flight, staring blankly at the explosive fury before him, the handle of his knife clicking.

“Fuck!”

He cursed:

“I’m too late…”