Chapter 122: Declaring War on Norsca

Norsca Peninsula, Hell Peaks.

This place is blown year-round by the Chaos Wind from the north, and various Chaos faiths emerge one after another. Countless warbands and Norscans live on this desperate peninsula, which has become a classic monster-grinding spot for various great gods.

Because although this place is a frozen wasteland, it can at least support a small population. As the losers of the continent's struggles, the Norscans are forever stuck in this frozen land, seeing absolutely no hope of reaching Kislev or even the Empire. Their lives can only rely on the mercy of the Chaos Gods and their divine grace.

Only those Norscan warriors favored by the Chaos Gods can possess great power and lead them to survive in this world of Chaos and pain. But more often than not, what the Chaos Gods bestow is not grace, but even more intense pain and despair. Only at these times do the faith and cravings of the Norscans become more devout, acting according to the fickle moods of the gods.

They have never had a choice, nor do they have any right to choose. The outside world treats them as a source of disaster, and even if they have considerations within their own ranks, they have no way to negotiate with others.

As mercenaries and individuals, Norscans can leave, but as a whole—a large nation or a tribal confederation—they can never be accepted by the nations of Order civilization. They can only continue to survive in this frozen wasteland in this desperate world until one day they are destroyed.

But now, in the last few months, the Norscans have suddenly felt a sense of nervousness and unease.

First, there are the players.

Those deceived players were not as the various factions had imagined; Hope City did not collapse in a short time under the harassment of the Doomsday Warbands, and it even truly established effective defenses and systems. Some bold merchant caravans have also started running to this place to trade for local specialties.

These brave players, relying on their undying nature—and the fact that even if they truly die, they can quickly mark the spot and call for countless others—have begun to launch small-scale counter-offensives throughout the Hell borderlands.

Although the players' individual strength is just so-so, they have the advantage of sturdy ships and powerful cannons.

When the Runic Warships purchased from the Star-Bearer are positioned on the rivers, they act as one fortress after another providing artillery support. A round of forty-eight heavy shells is unleashed onto the battlefield as if they cost nothing; shells with the Destruction Mark stick to targets, causing death or injury upon contact, and even divine grace is torn to shreds.

Such things are too difficult for demons to accept, and the demons chose to retreat; those true Chaos Warbands naturally could not have any particularly good outcome either. Each of them ultimately chose their final end. Large swaths of wasteland polluted by the Chaos Wind were reclaimed, and then fitted with simplified versions of the Psionic Spires produced by the Star-Bearer; small fortresses built by one player after another dot the plains, monitoring the surrounding land.

Although the players' individual strength is truly pathetic—every demon can kill over a hundred players in combat—the players' technology does not really require individual strength.

Those firearms, ammunition, and warships sold by the Star-Bearer are all hard currency shining with golden luster. The players are like magicians; nobody knows where they got a large batch of items, but they would inexplicably stuff them all to the Star-Bearer, and the Star-Bearer would then give them a pile of strategic items.

And the zealous, death-defying players would take these weapons to launch one desperate charge after another that even demons find chilling. Anyway, the players won't truly die, while the demons have been stripped of their original, eerie Undying Nature, so isn't this the time for grievances to be settled and debts to be repaid? The anger the players have suppressed for nearly half a year has finally been released recently, repelling four Chaos Warbands and re-establishing their footing.

The name of the players' nation is the First Republic, established on the very edge of civilization north of Kislev. Hope City officially announced itself as the first nation established by players, and hopes that all players can support their cause.

Of course, this is definitely not good news for the Norscans. Because the Norscans know very well that players are not children, nor are they good people that one can accept.

These soulless monsters hold deep grudges and are constantly coveting their wealth and power.

For example, the various furs and ivory they obtain from hunting—ordinary people can't get them, and Norscans don't care, but players have long coveted them. If a republic is truly established, then according to the players' nature, it is very likely they will come with not a single coin, no supplies at all, just starving and respawning, looting their way through the Norscans.

It is truly turning the world upside down; the Norscans find it absurd just thinking about it. It has always been them who were poor enough to pawn their pants, living in the frozen wasteland all day long. As it turns out, one day they are actually being targeted by a group that is even poorer and even more reckless.

If this isn't turning the world upside down, what is? And there is really nothing good to fight when Norscans fight players; the other side is a bunch of psychopaths and lunatics, and unless you choose to eat human flesh directly, you get nothing.

Many of the items in the players' hands are also exclusive to the Star-Bearer; if you believe in Chaos, they explode upon contact, feeling as uncomfortable as eating shit.

And the problem is not just the eastern threat of Hope City; in the west of the Norsca Peninsula, there exists an equally huge threat. The Golden Land created by the Star-Bearer has become the most prosperous port in the Old World, a core node of world trade that controls the passage between Norsca and the Albion Island Strait; whether they are Elves or Humans, even some ordinary Norscans can live here.

Ordinary Norscans have basically been assimilated by the Star-Bearer; these guys with golden Runes on their bodies consider themselves Star-Bearers and don't feel like they are Norscans at all. They often gather together and then point fingers at other Norscans according to their own culture.

This kind of thing has happened more than once in the areas around Norsca, but what truly makes people feel very uneasy, or even somewhat fearful, is that recently they have stopped pointing fingers instead.

These Norscans have started to gather troops and have cut off communication between the two sides.

Moreover, the areas of the large player guilds on Albion Island have almost been carved up, and it has reached the final stage of actual procurement. As for why this is, it is because the swamp monsters and Vampire Counts simply cannot stand such heavy bombardment and infinite harassment, and have begun to pledge loyalty and surrender to the Star-Bearer in large numbers.

In this case, many plots and areas that players wanted have become someone else's property, so how can that be? There are still many plans and projects that require large amounts of land, and Albion Island is clearly becoming worth its weight in gold; can such a thing be accepted?

Therefore, not long after, some uneasy signals came from the west coast of the Norsca Peninsula.

Players started driving ships and using telescopes to observe, as if they were picking out land, looking at Norscan villages and fishing hamlets while pointing and gesturing, constantly drawing various maps.

Then came ship after ship of Dark Elves and ordinary Elves. These teams will not suffer any attacks near Albion Island. The Phoenix King Orivien used the heads of over three hundred Elves to prove the Silent King's determination and perseverance, while the Dark Elves know perfectly well that the sun inside the lighthouse can really turn people into dried meat.

So the two sides actually have a certain tacit understanding, starting to take turns patrolling the east coast of Norsca, constantly recording the beacons and the direction of the Chaos Wind regarding Norsca. Even the two Elves who are mortal enemies have started to stand together and decided to do something. Except for those Norscans whose brains are already stuffed with muscle, ordinary Norscans have already realized the problem.

I am afraid that before long, that lord who hates Chaos with a fanatical obsession, that Star-Bearer Lord, will very likely wipe out all of Norsca and the Chaos faith in one fell swoop.

And sure enough, not long after, almost all residents of Albion Island and the Norscan coastline could feel a voice appearing from the depths of their own souls. It was a man's voice, a man's voice that made everyone instinctively realize he was speaking his mother tongue.

That voice was clear and articulate, presenting a calm but explosive piece of news to all Norscans on the Norsca Peninsula. "The signal of the Psionic Beacon is beginning to be strengthened, the signal of the Psionic Beacon is beginning to be strengthened. Repeating again, the signal of the Psionic Beacon is beginning to be strengthened. We will soon expand the signal range of the Psionic Beacon; the Ocean Beacon will take effect in the waters off Marienburg, the waters from Ulthuan to the Temple of Khaine, the middle of the Hell Peaks, and the edge of the Slave Islands. We will complete the improvement of the Psionic Beacon signal as soon as possible."

The voice of the Star-Bearer Lord traveled all around; this god existing in reality used his own great power to prove that myths truly exist.

That psychic torch climbed step by step under the fanatical gazes of everyone, and the Star-Bearer's Eye in the sky, releasing golden light toward the surroundings, seemed to open a small portion; that cold, desperate golden light, carrying an unquestionable color of destruction, shone more fiercely toward the surroundings.

Very close to the different-colored skies once faced under the influence of the Subspace gods, under the power of the Star-Bearer Lord, the entire sea area turned into a golden yellow.

And the sky was even more intertwined with golden threads and the Veil, moving beautifully in the sky like a curtain obscuring the view outside.

Those shamans inside the Norsca Peninsula discovered in terror that the moment the Veil fell, they completely lost their connection to the Chaos Gods, and even lost a large part of their ability to cast spells. This terrifying god is so tough that only with his permission do people have the ability to cast spells themselves.

And after the sky turned into a brilliant golden yellow, the voice of the Star-Bearer Lord did not subside at all, but continued to ring in everyone's ears calmly, reading out the fate of the Norsca Peninsula.

"Furthermore, we emphasize that we do not intend to engage in any war or hegemonism. We only intend to annihilate all Chaos forces. We hope that everyone in this world can live beautifully and confidently. Not by relying on the deformities born from those Chaos monsters to survive."

"If the Norscans wish, we will grant all local Norscan residents the right to become Star-Bearers. For all Norscans who refuse to become Star-Bearers, we will act according to the situation."

"If they simply do not wish to become Star-Bearers, we will allow them to live normally and give them thirteen Gold Coins or bulk goods of equivalent value as a gift for the impact on their lives. If they are identified as Chaos believers, we will kill them without exception! No matter the degree of Chaos believer, whether it is just something you said casually or a true blessing, as long as they are Chaos believers, we will kill!"

The violent psychic shock almost caused an explosion in everyone's heads; every listener realized the intense anger and will contained in this man's voice.

He firmly believes that his path is correct, and also firmly believes that his choices will never have any errors. The will conveyed by this voice is the final word, the final judgment. The places on the Norsca Peninsula permeated by the Psionic Beacon are where Li Ang's will can reach.

"Repeating again, we always maintain a zero-tolerance attitude toward Chaos believers; our attitude toward Chaos believers is to exterminate them! There cannot be any traces left by Chaos monsters in this world, and this world must absolutely not let Chaos spread again! We will eradicate a tumor in this world, so that everyone, so that all civilized worlds are spared from the interference of Chaos!"

"We will launch an offensive in Antarctica, and focus on the defensive trends in the Arctic, ensuring that the Chaos Gods have no way to support the Norsca Peninsula. We swear that we will deal with these pustules of the reality universe!"

"As for individuals who have already become Chaos believers but wish to surrender, we will treat them more magnanimously. In addition to thirteen Gold Coins, we will also provide a one-month pioneering tour, cleansing all Chaos Brands and aberrations from your body, and bestowing upon you a brand-new meaning of life."

"Former Norscan, now Star-Bearer Military Director Wufuruike can also testify here. All the above statements and results will be confirmed and executed by the Star-Bearer Lord Leon. Please do not worry about any problems!"

"Method of surrender: Just raise your palm and shout from the bottom of your heart 'I want to serve the Star-Bearer Lord', and you can surrender within the range of the psychic torch. As for Norscans outside the range of the psychic torch, they need to raise their palms or a white flag to express their obedience before they can be inspected by our designated personnel."

Following the furious words, what followed was a gentle voice, as warm as a spring breeze, that soothed people's hearts.

Just a moment ago it was as tyrannical as thunder, making people feel awe, but the following words made many Norscans feel relieved. After all, many people really had no choice in their lives, which is why they could become believers of Chaos. But now that there is a choice, who would really want to become a plaything of those deformed gods? Who would really like to survive in this frozen wasteland? Who would really hope to live a life of hunger? Hunting in this frozen wasteland, their culture and customs were forced upon them; who really likes this kind of life? If they were really that satisfied, why would they run out to rob? Isn't robbing tiring? But now, just by opening their mouths, they can become people above others; they are truly tempted.

Listening to that almost divine voice dissipating in their ears, some Norscans were still hesitating.

But seeing the player fleets in the distance and the ships of Dark Elves and ordinary Elves rushing over like unleashed wild dogs after hearing the signal, the Norscans also understood what the situation was.

Clearly, these people had long known that Norsca would be dealt with sooner or later. They clearly failed when competing for infrastructure and construction on Albion Island, and they were not qualified to board the Arctic for more core area construction. Then isn't the remaining path the Norsca Peninsula?

And clearly, the Star-Bearer's team cannot stay in this place forever. After all, the neighboring Norsca Peninsula is truly full of people believing in Chaos, and sooner or later they will definitely attack. And the combat power of the Star-Bearer, compared to the Norscans, presents an attitude of crushing. In this case, considering the long term, will the Star-Bearer really show mercy to the Chaos believers on the Norsca Peninsula?

So the answer is almost written on their faces. After the Second Impact, everyone believed that the next big move must be an attack on the Norsca Peninsula, so they had already made preparations for exploration and selection in advance.

As long as they take the opportunity to hack all those blind Norscans to death, then wouldn't the large remaining areas be their own?

Facing the various enemies who were as fierce as wolves and tigers, the Norscans who frequently communicated with the Golden Land at the coastal border had long since made preparations, raising their hands one after another and shouting their desire to become Star-Bearers without the slightest psychological hesitation.

Then, under the disappointed gazes of everyone, the Star-Bearer Lord truly gave a response. These Norscans, who were shouting in search of evolution, were quickly marked with one Brand after another under the light of the Psionic Beacon. Some who already possessed a Chaos Brand sat there quite naturally, chatting with composure and blinking at the hunters who were so angry they could barely contain themselves.

"Yo, still waiting here to ambush us? We have long wanted to become Star-Bearers; it's just that Lord Li Ang didn't want us to for the time being.

Actually, we were already Star-Bearers long ago."

"..."

The fall of the west coast of the Norsca Peninsula happened at nearly the speed of light, leaving only the completely bewildered Warbands of the Hell Peaks and the Norsca Tribes of the west feeling incomparably grotesque about this.

"... What is the situation here?"

The Warband leader looked at the Psionic Beacon shining outside with a bewildered expression on his face.

(End of this chapter)