Game of the World Tree

【 OUR GOD HAS ABANDONED US 】

The clash of blades and agonized screams echoed through the vicinity, mingling with the choking stench of burning houses. The acrid smoke in the air, thick with the scent of blood and charred wood, was enough to turn anyone’s stomach.

Shadows flickered wildly against the ruined walls, cast by the infernal glow of the spreading fires, before a flash of silver light tore through the battlefield.

Sword Skill : [Lunar Slash]

A female elven warrior, clad in gleaming silver armor, moved with the grace of a panther as her sword carved through the ranks of orcs with lethal precision.

In her wake, only a blurred afterimage remained, shimmering like moonlight before vanishing as she came to a full stop.

Her stance remained poised as she slowly lowered her blade. Behind her, a series of wet, gurgling sounds erupted as blood sprayed into the air.

The orcs surrounding the woman staggered one by one, their weapons slipping off their hands whilst a look of bewilderment remained etched upon their faces.

Then, as if the world itself rejected their presence, their bodies gradually crumbled into dust.

With a practiced motion, she adjusted her slightly disheveled ponytail from her earlier dash. A flicker of disappointment flashed across her eyes.

Clap, clap clap.

A slow round of applause came from behind her, accompanied by an envious yet admiring sigh.

“You Instakill all those Orcs… Jasmine, you’re getting stronger and stronger.”

The voice belonged to a male elf dressed in priestly robes.

Hearing his voice, the female warrior shot him a sidelong glance and let out a soft sigh.

“Caesar, it’s not that I’m strong. It’s that they’re just too weak…”

The two conversing were none other than Moon Jasmine and Caesar, a pair of players from the fourth beta.

With such a large-scale server-wide event, they had naturally decided to join the war campaign, fighting as part of Heart of Nature’s legion army.

Now, it had been three days since the second offensive had begun.

During this time, the players had swept through the entire region with unstoppable momentum, advancing even faster than in the first offensive.

Henceforth, in just a few days, their 150,000-strong force had marched nearly 400 kilometers deeper into enemy territory.

At first, the orc tribes they encountered had mounted some form of resistance. But as their campaign progressed and the players became more proficient in warfare, the subsequent tribes crumbled with increasing ease.

The players, on the other hand, only grew more courageous, pushing their blitzkrieg tactics and cavalry maneuvers to the limit. With each victory, their confidence swelled, as numerous orc tribes fell into their hands one by one.

And now, this marked the 56th orc tribe they had attacked.

Most of these settlements had been small, housing fewer than a thousand inhabitants. Only three were mid-sized, with populations reaching around 5,000.

The Red Sand Tribe, their current target, was one such mid-sized settlement. Yet despite its size, it had withstood the Heart of Nature’s assault for less than an hour before falling.

Just a few days ago, attaining such a quick and easy victory would have seemed impossible.

And yet, here they were.

But for the players, this outcome came as no surprise.

Because the enemies they faced now were no longer those same orcs.

Jasmine casually looted the scattered equipment, storing them in her spatial ring before surveying the battlefield.

Elsewhere, the fighting still raged on.

But everywhere she looked, the scene remained the same—their side completely overwhelming the orcs.

It wasn’t that they had suddenly become exponentially stronger.

But rather, it was the orcs who had grown pitifully weaker.

Upon closer inspection, one could see that these orcs bore little resemblance to the battle-hardened warriors they had fought before.

Although they fought just as desperately, most were aged elders, crippled individuals, or even orc women who rarely took up arms due to their lower physical strength compared to their male counterparts. Their movements were sluggish, their strikes lacked power, and their formations were in complete disarray.

Moreover, their armor was sparse and mismatched, with some wearing nothing more than coarse linen garments, while others clutched rusted cleavers, their hands trembling as they hurled themselves into battle with reckless desperation.

Against their side, which was fully armed and composed of highly skilled individuals, such resistance was laughably insufficient.

Honestly speaking, what’s happening right now couldn’t be considered a fight anymore…

—It was a massacre.

Seeing what was happening around her, Jasmine felt no thrill in such battles.

Sure, she enjoyed combat and loved the exhilaration of one-on-one duels. The rush of clashing steel, the tension of a closely matched fight—those were the moments she lived for.

But what excited her was fighting powerful foes…

Not cutting down poorly equipped, under-leveled opponents who could barely lift their weapons in defense.

There was no sense of achievement in killing such enemies.

No challenge, nor risk.

Just an overwhelming, one-sided slaughter.

Plus, the experience points she gained from killing these weak orcs were hardly worth the effort.

This scenario had started two days ago.

Right after the second offensive began, the players gradually noticed a shift in their enemies’ dynamics. Specifically, the number of orc warriors in each tribes they encountered seemed to be steadily declining.

It was as if the orcs had abandoned these settlements.

With the absence of battle-hardened warriors, only the elderly, the weak, and the wounded remained to defend their homes, while the former had already retreated.

Watching the ongoing battle, Jasmine shook her head lightly.

“Such a dull fight.”

She despised battles like these.

But unlike her, the other players seemed to really enjoy it.

For them, it looks like crushing weaker opponents was an exhilarating experience.

Even if those opponents were hapless NPCs.

This was especially true for those public-beta players, whose overall levels were still relatively low.

Each of them was laughing boisterously as they chased down the orcs, most of whom weren’t even mid Iron-rank, and those who were had long since grown frail with age.

Agonized screams filled the air, echoing throughout the settlement.

Hearing them only made Jasmine more irritable.

And when she saw some players resorting to cruel methods to torment their enemies, her frustration finally reached its peak.

Her expression darkened.

“Jasmine, what’s wrong? You don’t seem to be in a good mood.”

Caesar, noticing the gloom on her face, asked with concern.

Jasmine let out a quiet sigh.

“Nothing. It’s just that… watching the way some of the others fight doesn’t sit right with me.”

Caesar blinked in surprise and glanced around, before a look of understanding flashed across his eyes.

“You think their methods are too brutal, don’t you?”

She hesitated, then slowly nodded.

Sighing again, she continued.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed it too. Ever since we advanced deeper into enemy territory, some of them have started using excessive cruelty against the orcs more and more… especially after the second offensive began.”

“It was still proper combat when we fought actual orc warriors. But now, facing these weak, old, and wounded orcs, many of them have become increasingly bloodthirsty.”

“I know this is just a game. I know we’re fighting a brutal war. And I know that, in the end, these orcs are just operating under lines of code…”

“But seeing such mindless cruelty still unsettles me.”

“Maybe it’s because the Elven Kingdom’s AI is so well-made that I can’t fully see the NPCs as mere data anymore, not even as enemies. Sometimes, I even question if this world is actually real.”

“I once thought that participating in the war would be thrilling and heroic. But I never expected to witness something like this…”

“And more than that, seeing these orcs desperately fight for their home, even when they’re hopelessly weak and know they’ll die for sure…somehow, I can’t help but feel moved.”

“Despite knowing it’s just a game and even knowing they’re our enemies… I still feel a tinge of pity for them.”

Jasmine then gave a self-deprecating chuckle.

“…Maybe I’m soft-hearted after all.”

Caesar fell silent for a moment.

Placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, he said:

“No, your reaction is perfectly normal. Most people feel uncomfortable when faced with excessive cruelty. Otherwise, why do you think the game has a censorship filter?”

“As for feeling moved… I understand that too. Watching those orcs fight to the bitter end to protect their home…I too found that quite admirable as well.”

“But…remember, this is war. And war has no right or wrong.”

“The brutality you see others committing is not just something that happens in games. In real wars, similar and often worse atrocities also frequently occur.”

“Jasmine, maybe you don’t know much about real-world history. But outside of our homeland, many armies throughout history have committed acts of cruelty in war.”

“Not just cruelty—entire cities have been massacred. Especially in ancient times.”

“Every person has a beast lurking within them. Most of the time, it’s restrained by rules and social order. But once those restraints are removed, those who lack self-control can easily let loose that beast and become monsters themselves.”

“War is where order breaks down, and it’s even worse here in the virtual world, since there are no strict rules or moral boundaries to restrain people, as everything here can be treated as unreal and merely part of the game.”

“But regardless of whether it is in real life or the virtual world, one remaining truth is that war and brutality go hand in hand, each feeding into the other, with no clear boundary between them.”

“To some players, perhaps acting that way is just another way to let off steam… Besides, the orcs in this game’s lore aren’t exactly innocent, either.”

Caesar sighed.

“In a way, this game really does evoke the true feeling of war exceptionally well…”

“Real war…”

Moon Jasmine murmured.

She forced a wry smile.

“If that’s the case, then I kind of wish Elven Kingdom wasn’t this realistic.”

Caesar raised an eyebrow.

“Then I’d suggest you modify your censorship settings and enable the gore pixelation filter. If you max it out, the game will distort any distressing scenes enough to make everything look less unsettling.”

Moon Jasmine ruefully shrugged.

“But I’m already too addicted to the game’s highly realistic visuals.”

Caesar imitated her gesture.

“You’re hopeless. Women are such a hassle.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes.

“You looking for a fight?”

She drew her weapon.

Caesar immediately threw up his hands in surrender.

Shaking her head, she slowly lowered her sword, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“Honestly, seeing all of this… I can’t help but feel like we’re completely ruining the elves’ reputation.”

Caesar rubbed his nose.

“Wasn’t our faction’s reputation already doomed from the moment we appeared into this world?”

Jasmine: “…”

“Ugh… I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I’ll just get used to it on my own.”

She sighed softly.

“Come on, don’t stop! Let’s keep talking!”

Caesar teased.

She shot him a glare and quickened her pace.

Just as they walked a few steps further, a chorus of startled cries erupted ahead.

“What’s going on up there?”

Caesar turned his head in a particular direction.

Glancing at her minimap, Jasmine responded,

“Judging by the location… it’s probably where the tribe’s main tent is located.”

“Someone must’ve run into trouble. Let’s check it out.”

She drew her weapon, activated the Acceleration effect on her boots, and bolted forward.

“H-Hey! Wait for me!”

Caesar swung his staff and hurried after her.

They moved swiftly, reaching the source of the commotion in an instant.

And, just as Jasmine had suspected, a commotion was unfolding at the entrance of the main tent.

Over twenty players had formed a wary circle around it, their eyes alight with a mix of caution and excitement.

Standing at the entrance of the tent was a towering male orc.

He was old, his head full of white hair, and his face lined with deep, intersecting wrinkles.

Clad in a weathered leather cuirass that clung to his broad, muscular frame, the armor bore the marks of scratches, dents, and patches where the leather had frayed. In his hand, he gripped a rusted steel blade, its surface dulled by age but still sharp enough to cause serious harm. Despite his worn and weary appearance, he stood firm at the threshold of the tent, an unyielding figure, exuding an imposing presence akin to a mountain that would not be moved.

Scattered at his feet were several bloodstained, ornate pieces of equipment.

Gear that belonged to the players.

Clearly, more than a few had already fallen to him.

The sight of this orc warrior instantly brightened Jasmine’s previously sour mood.

This old orc was definitely a formidable opponent!

She could tell from his aura that he was stronger than her by a fair margin and likely possessed mid-Silver rank strength.

Yet, time had taken its toll on him. A faint, decaying weariness clung to his demeanor.

Even so, the surrounding players stood frozen, treating him as if he were an insurmountable threat.

Their hushed conversations carried through the vicinity:

“Holy crap! There’s an orc boss here?!”

“He instakill those guys just now, didn’t he? Dude, I can’t believe two max Iron-rank players went down in a second!”

“Should we charge in together?”

“Maybe we should call for backup instead? This Orc Boss is definitely a Silver-ranker! I feel like we’d just be throwing ourselves into a meat grinder if we fought him by ourselves…”

The surrounding players whispered among themselves but not a single one dared step forward.

Jasmine scanned the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the gathered players.

Aside from herself, there wasn’t a single other Silver-ranked player in sight.

In fact, most of the twenty or so present were public-beta players, their levels nothing more than a laughable fraction of what would be needed to face such a formidable foe.

Against a seasoned Silver-rank Orc warrior like this one?

It was clear none of them stood a chance, not even close.

As she assessed the situation, the others noticed her as well as their eyes lit up in recognition.

“Whoa! It’s Moon Jasmine the Pro!”

“Valkyrie!”

“Jasmine the Valkyrie is here! We don’t have to be wary of this Orc anymore!”

The players erupted with excitement.

Throughout the second phase of the campaign, they had never encountered a Silver-ranked orc warrior, not even once.

Yet now, not only had they found one, but he was also standing guard at the entrance of the main tent.

That could only mean one thing…

There was definitely something valuable inside that tent!

They quickly sent party invitations to Jasmine.

“Senior Sister! We need backup!”

“Let’s team up! Once we take him down, we’ll split whatever’s inside the tent between our guild and you!”

Judging by their coordination, this group of twenty or so players likely belonged to a small guild.

However, Jasmine simply shook her head.

“I’ll handle this alone. You guys are too weak.”

The surrounding players: “…”

They opened their mouths to protest, but in the end, they obediently stepped aside.

They had already witnessed the old orc’s strength firsthand and they knew she was telling the truth.

At that moment, the elderly orc warrior finally turned his gaze toward Jasmine.

Leaning on his rusted greatsword, he let out a soft chuckle.

“I never thought an elf could be this strong… Looks like I really am getting old.”

“Of course. The times have changed.”

Moon Jasmine drew her longsword, her expression turning serious. Then, she formally introduced herself.

“Moon Jasmine. An Elf. Lower Silver-ranked warrior.”

The old orc’s expression also grew solemn.

“Thunder Iron. Former High Priest of the Red Sand Tribe. A Mid Silver-rank warrior.”

The former High Priest of this tribe?

Moon Jasmine blinked in surprise.

A priest… who looked every bit a warrior?

That was certainly unusual.

Behind her, Caesar let out a quiet hum of intrigue.

“Hm? A High Priest? But he has no faith at all… Aren’t priests supposed to be devout believers?”

No faith?

Moon Jasmine faltered for a moment and shot Caesar a glance.

His eyes glowed faintly which indicates that he was using the [Eye of Faith] skill.

The old orc let out a scoffing laugh.

His expression darkened, his gaze filled with a quiet sorrow.

“Our God has abandoned us…abandoned the Red Sand Tribe.”

“So…”

“I am no longer a believer of him.”

With those words, his eyes turned sharp.

Without another word, he raised his massive greatsword high, its rusted blade gleaming in the dim light.

“Come. If you want to enter our Tribe’s main tent, but…”

His gaze hardened, and with chilling clarity, he finished:

“—You’ll have to step over my dead body first.”

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