My Players Are So Fierce

“Every time I see the creations of dusk, I can’t help but marvel at how grand the knowledge they pursued must be, the knowledge that only exists in legends from the previous era.

Just picking up some scattered relics from the Golden Era is enough for dusk to create these astonishing things.

These are the creations of life…

The authority said to belong only to the creator, a power that ordinary divine spirits can’t even covet.”

Matriarch Botana leaned on her Thunder Lizard Bone Staff, a symbol of her chieftain position, walking slowly through the dark underground tunnels.

She was not alone; alongside her was Manson, the Golden Hunting Priest of the Bloodscar Clan.

These two are leaders.

Behind them followed hundreds of Jackal Priests, all spellcasters carrying large bundles of various ritual items, clearly ready to perform some significant mischief.

The tunnel they were walking in was located at least sixty meters underground, a feat no ordinary race could excavate.

In fact, even the most skilled gnolls couldn’t achieve this.

Not because gnolls can’t dig such strange places, but simply because large-scale excavation at this depth couldn’t escape the earth priest’s detection from the ground above.

But Ratmen can!

Now, along the sides of the tunnel where the Wolf People were moving, countless Ratmen continued to labor.

They weren’t just using their claws to dig; that would be too inefficient.

Among them were peculiar spiritual energy individuals who could use simple earth spells to loosen the surrounding rocks and soil, and then Ratman slaves swarmed in to widen and deepen it.

The scene of tens of thousands of humanoid large rats working together was astonishing, but these creatures had a peculiar and eerie discipline.

While working, they hardly made excess noise, yet the rustling sound of digging and those green eyes lighting up in the surrounding darkness made some brutal Wolf People feel a chill in their hearts.

It was as if these strange large rats around them might suddenly swarm and tear them to pieces.

“I heard that the reason these Ratmen can dig under the earth and avoid detection by earth priests is that dusk’s creator bestowed them with the power of sandworms from the Grey Desert?”

Botana seemed particularly talkative today, discussing this matter with the silent Manson beside her.

Faced with her inquiry, the aged but sinister Bloodscar Priest shook his head and said:

“I was once invited to their ‘laboratories.’ I can only say that I don’t understand the strange knowledge they possess, but the place is indeed impressive, simple yet with a beauty of power, though that power does not belong to the Wolf People.

Our clan has been blessed with natural strength, naturally sacrificing some wisdom.”

“But that’s a good thing, Manson,”

Botana shook her head and said:

“Wisdom is a good thing, but only a few need to master it.

Once it spreads, it makes fools learn to think, and the conclusions fools often reach are dangerous, like our King Gorman…

Hah, he claims to be the Son of Bone Bite, yet he only inherited the brute strength of the King of Bone Biting.

That astonishing wisdom wasn’t inherited at all, not to mention Lord Felix’s dominating spirit.

He’s just foolishly imitating his ancestors, immersed in the Black Disaster he started himself yet unable to understand what we aim to achieve this time.

He’s the perfect puppet cultivated by the Bloodscar Clan, isn’t he?”

“Shush, Chief Botana, you know these things in your heart, they can’t be spoken out loud,”

Manson smiled.

The laughter of the Wolf People never makes one feel comfortable, especially the Bloodscar Clan, who are zealots focused on spreading the faith of The Master of Hunting.

He looked around at the Ratmen, who had already completed the basic excavation and were now digging diagonally upwards to the surface, and said:

“The front eight positions only need the Ratmen to dig through tunnels and then blow up the surface with explosives to be completely damaged, but the real problem lies behind those positions.

I know you obtained help from dusk, Botana, your actions today will directly determine the future of Black Flame Mountain Pass.

But having come this far, are you still not planning to show us your trump card?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to say, Manson, I actually don’t know what surprise dusk left us.

I only know it can be used by us.”

Matriarch Claw shook her head and said:

“The only pity is that the most adept in using death powers, the Pestilence Clan, picked the wrong side.

If those Plague Warlocks were here, perhaps I would have ended this distasteful siege battle seven days ago.

But be patient, Manson.

I know you are also eagerly waiting to offer sacrifices for the birth of The Master of Hunting; I swear to you, you will be able to offer boundless sacrifices at Black Flame Mountain Pass to our god.

Every living thing existing here will forge our victory in a brutal manner, and The Master of Hunting will feel delighted because of it.

But still, the issue…

Botana glanced at the Bloodscar Priest and whispered:

“Have you truly not noticed?

Our god…

the corrupted deity…

is there really no issue in letting him be born just like that?”

“Watch your words!

Matriarch Claw!”

The previously indifferent Manson now shouted angrily:

“Your previous question was an act of blasphemy already!”