My Players Are So Fierce

1912: Chapter 638: Wielding the Chainsaw Sword with Loyalty in Heart, Wolf People Are Crap!

(Part 2)

1912: Chapter 638: Wielding the Chainsaw Sword with Loyalty in Heart, Wolf People Are Crap!

(Part 2)

Remember, soldiers.

The Blood Vulture Clan does not need cowards, and neither does Transylvania!

In our homeland, the only outcome for becoming a coward is to be left for dead in the wilderness!”

“Click”

Maxim donned the vulture’s heavy helmet, flipped the skull crusher hammer into his hand, and activated its second form, causing the terrifying armor-piercing cone to emerge and slowly rotate like a meat grinder.

The soldiers then raised the Blood Flag of Transylvania, and as Murphy unleashed the Necessary Evil and stepped towards the portal with a chainsaw sword in hand, Colonel Fraser and Major Ron, who were also stationed in Shadow Valley, came running fully armed.

The heir of the Cape Family shouted:

“The front line needs support?

Why didn’t you call us?”

“Where we’re going would scare the piss out of you, Goldenrod People.”

Murphy said without turning his head:

“Wait for the next time.”

“Nonsense!

The Exploration Corps fears nothing!

The Goldenrod People have never lacked courage!”

Major Ron roared:

“We want to join the battle too!”

“Whatever!

The portal will stay here, as long as you dare to step through it.”

Murphy waved his hand and said:

“Now, step aside!

Don’t block our path.”

As he stepped into the portal, Murphy suddenly remembered something.

He looked back towards a certain direction at the edge of Shadow Valley, where Maxim had already constructed several altars in various shapes, and the Berserker Altar of Vam was glowing faintly red, indicating that the Berserker was “on duty” today.

So, at the moment he was engulfed by crimson light, Murphy shouted loudly:

“We will bring back 999 heads!

That is the first offering for the Berserker!”

“Then let’s fight!

Use the blood of enemies to please the Berserker.”

The battle cry of Vam, carried by the frenzied wind, hit every soldier, bestowing the Berserker’s blessing upon these Transia People.

As agreed before with Murphy, precisely enough to ignite the anger in a coward’s heart to become a qualified warrior.

“Swoosh”

Murphy stepped onto the position, and the flying Necessary Evil turned into a crimson stream of light, piercing forward, killing the surrounding berserk gnolls.

The Governor, wearing a vulture’s battle helmet, moved his neck and looked down at an elf ranger panting at his feet.

Blood-covered, the latter, holding a broken bow, looked at Murphy in confusion, seemingly skeptical, how did this guy come directly to the battle’s outskirts through the portal?

Isn’t he afraid of death?

“Take it, follow along!”

Murphy casually tossed a dwarf trench spear to the exhausted elf ranger, then squeezed the handle of the chainsaw sword in his hand.

In that brutal buzzing and rising black smoke, the terrifying weapon was swung round with both hands, delivering a forward cleaving strike, and the high-speed rotating saw teeth did not disappoint its loyal and savage appearance, easily tearing any fool who dared attack it with their neck into a rainstorm of blood and flesh.

The Governor nodded in satisfaction, then gathered the Crimson Ability to create a blood explosion, striding forward in assault.

Behind him, the Blood Flag of Transylvania fluttered in the night wind, held high by soldiers charging into battle.

This flag is known to everyone on this ground, and when it flies over the battlefield, the Retinue Army being attacked by rampaging gnolls knows the Transylvania madmen have arrived.

Great!

The current situation desperately needs this group of insanely reckless fellows.

—

“Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry!

Quick!”

Brother Meow lay in his bedroom in a comfortable position.

It’s morning, and logically anyone with a decent living habit should be up for breakfast, but Brother Meow lay like a hopeless gaming addict wearing a motorcycle helmet, even without washing his face.

He stared intently at the game helmet showing a thirty-second countdown to the server reboot, longing fiercely in his heartbeat to return to Transylvania and kill to his heart’s content.

Every digit change before him stirred emotions within him until the last second finally ticked away, and familiar starlight once again burst before his eyes.

Feeling the familiar weightlessness, Brother Meow almost sang out in joy.

Before awakening, a “Race selection?” prompt and a “Load appearance skin?” prompt appeared before him.

The former was exciting, the latter frustrating, like it was messing with his mind.

But Brother Meow chose “No” for all!

He had previously undergone a race selection and was now using the Kite People template most suited to the Avalon Sect’s power system.

Brother Meow had carefully studied over the past few hours, and while the new race appeared robust, just like the previous race template, it possessed both strengths and weaknesses.

Though half-elves could bypass human doctrines through elven bloodlines, joining the elven Avalon Sect to choose faith in the three aspects of Avalon directly to unlock new druid professions, Brother Meow did not intend to try.

The reason is simple: he was accustomed to the current combat style and had locked onto the “Red Knight” legendary profession, which was incredibly flashy from combat style to professional appearance, even the profession’s name.

The red, white, and gray knights were exclusive to Avalon’s human sect.

Changing race at this moment would be self-destructive.

Besides, what price could elves pay to turn a promising Red Knight to their side?

Could they help Brother Meow reverse his fate, leap from a Black Hand Great Chief to become the luckiest man in Europe?