Chapter 68: Dust Settles

To tell the truth, in the very beginning, players generally believed that the Chivalrous Expedition in the Broken Lands was nothing more than an armed parade.

Whether it was the judgment of the player leadership or the data collection by the low-to-mid-level players, they all thought so. Because the entirety of Bretonnia, including all the civilized worlds the players had come into contact with, and all recorded data and relevant archives, proved that Chaos and demons were vulnerable when faced with the civilized world.

Hundreds, or even thousands of years of detailed records, all the ruins and heroic deeds of the civilized world, and the detailed accounts of the wretched living conditions of the Norscans. These were uninterrupted, continuous records.

It was not just written history; sometimes, the people involved might even be heroic spirits or still alive.

What was Chaos to them? It was some rural ghost stories passed down among fools and farmers, the helpless result chosen by people who could not survive in the bitter cold of the north.

They were not qualified to obtain deeper information, nor did they know what earth-shattering news was contained within the Island of Eternal Gathering, which was always shrouded in mist, the rainforests in the south, and those libraries and historical legends that would never be open to players. They knew nothing.

Therefore, from the players' perspective, the expedition to the Chaos Wasteland was no different from an armed parade.

It was just an activity to take money, take people, and then show their faces.

Having made preparations, letting the main fleet linger off the Norscan coast to pave the way for Hope City and the conquest of the Norsca Peninsula, the players were full of hope and dreams regarding the Old World and the otherworld arrival.

Until today, looking at the sky where the colors were gradually returning to the Arctic aurora and the massive Great Rift of the World Scar, they realized for the first time that this world was not at all the otherworld with limited Magic capabilities that the players had imagined. The myths, legends, and bizarre stories here were very likely real.

Because right in front of them, the man in the white robe with a passionate face had the ritual and curse of how to tear the entire world open into a massive rift inscribed within his eyes.

"I am truly sorry for letting you see a somewhat rude side of me."

The man called Leon—at least that was how it sounded to the players' interpretation—the Great Wizard, looked at the remaining people who were still lingering in fear, a big smile appearing on his face.

"But please rest assured, I only do this to enemies. I am filled with infinite affection and love for every Human; as long as you follow my ideas and live better, that is the best thing for me. I do not wish to be enemies with everyone; on the contrary, I hope everyone can trust me."

"I am not a cruel person; rather, you should all have heard what Chaos corruption is, and you are very clear about what it looks like after being corrupted. My way of doing things is the greatest tolerance and mercy."

"In fact, if you wish to leave, I will never stop you, but I believe you would be missing out on the greatest cause of your lives."

"And that is the cause of fighting against Chaos, just as I have just done."

Looking at the many peasant conscripts and players who were in such a sorry state that they didn't even dare to return to their ships, the white-robed wizard was full of smiles, spreading his arms as if to embrace these losers.

The Pale Army, covered in sigils, no longer looked as manic as before, walking silently through the burning camp. Those monsters without Souls walked steadily, killing the remaining demons one by one, and then dragging out the Humans still alive in the ruins. Green light began to heal the wounded.

The remaining Knights, serfs, and players watched everything before them in silence.

They watched with their own eyes as these monsters, who had just slaughtered the demons, began to save people like a group of well-trained doctors. Everyone began to gradually doubt whether their own perception had gone wrong.

Clearly, that man floating in mid-air, who looked kind-hearted, was an out-and-out mad wizard.

A madman powerful enough to even change the flow of the Winds of Magic of the entire world and wrestle with gods.

"You must have thought I would sacrifice your lives to do some evil, but please rest assured, I truly love every Human. I will not force you to make cruel choices. But because of the injuries and the war, I hope you can come to my city and settle down." The floating wizard looked at the shaken Knights and serfs in the camp, his face full of sincere smiles. This rhetoric made everyone's heart skip a beat.

However, it was only the Knights whose hearts were uneasy; those serfs and free men had already admitted their defeat.

They had only come hoping for a chance at social mobility, and since they had failed this time, they would just accept their fate and become slaves. It wasn't the first time they had been slaves, so it was no psychological burden for them.

To be able to work under a Great Wizard who could change the weather, manipulate monsters, and even kill the demon who led the army, such a big shot was an existence they couldn't imagine in their daily lives. And looking at those soulless ones, such a terrifying big shot had no need to lie to them.

As for the players... the players didn't care who they worked for either.

They were able to join the Chivalrous Expeditionary Force, so they would naturally serve this Witch King of unknown origin.

For the players, being able to get more information, and seeing that this was clearly a newly rising power, it seemed like an object they could choose to become partners with, or even subjects of. Because they had another world as a shield, the players' stance was much more flexible than imagined.

So everyone looked at each other, and it seemed no one saw a strong sense of resistance in the other's eyes. The Knights' expressions were a bit ugly, but looking at the Human husks on the ground, the Knights could not speak either.

Because their credibility had already gone bankrupt; even if they went back, they could only go on a crusade of atonement.

Chaos followers were guilty, and by failing to identify them, they were equally guilty.

And just as everyone was wavering, the wizard clapped his hands and said once more:

"Of course, before I lead you to appreciate the real battlefield, I need to perform a ritualistic act. A very simple, very natural act. After all, doing the wrong thing means one must be punished."

"..."

The atmosphere suddenly became tense.

Everyone subconsciously swallowed, feeling that this matter was likely not easy.

But the mysterious wizard looked at the nervous crowd, smiled easily, and put forward his conditions.

"It is not a big deal, just a very simple question. Do you admit that your choice was a failure? Do you admit that you were led by a Slaaneshi demon to attack the innocent me?"

"... Yes, we admit it."

"That is good. My requirement has been met."

Looking at the Chivalrous Expeditionary Force that had laid down their weapons, the Witch King—whose face was memorable but whose memory became blurred—wore a smile.

"Thank you all for your understanding. Welcome to the Landing Site. Let us witness the real world."

(End of chapter)