My Players Are So Fierce

In those flickering visions, he saw all the significant moments of Triss’s earlier life.

It even included the scene where Triss fled with the crying Luna on her back through a secret grove in the Elfin King Court and the chaos she wreaked across the continent as the Crimson Witch.

Slaughter, conspiracy, theft, seizure.

She had done all things typical of a witch; young Triss was indeed a truly wicked woman, and her conduct inspired Luna to grow rapidly, becoming a “small-scale” replica of the Crimson Witch.

The final illusion flickered, showing Murphy how Triss was ambushed by Salockdale—her heart excavated—and how she barely managed to survive the desolate night due to her immortal nature, witnessing Luna shielding Triss only to be pierced through the heart by a Necessary Evil.

At that moment, Luna truly died, transforming into a lifeless statue.

But how did this detestable individual come back to life afterward?

“You want to see… you can… Triss… I want Triss…”

The summon from the Midnight Sin jolted Murphy awake from his intrusive scrutiny, immediately retracting his consciousness, avoiding further contact with the Mother of Midnight.

That creature was tempting him!

It presented an enticing offer.

It could reveal all vampire secrets to Murphy, but he must surrender Triss to it to complete the entity into its full form.

By then, vampires would finally have their own race deity, but this creature was birthed from subspace!

Its birth process identical to The Master of Hunting; it was contaminated before its emergence.

Murphy could not allow Triss to endure such a risk.

“Get lost! You contemptible yellow-haired scoundrel eyeing another man’s wife!”

Murphy cursed:

“If I weren’t tied up right now, watch how I summon the Pure Love Knight, representing God’s love, to hunt you, this dark-immersed subspace Tauren!”

“Foolish…”

The Mother of Midnight rebuked:

“I am… Triss!”

“No, you’re not! My wife is sweet and soft and adorable; you’re a hideous monstrosity sculpted by malice and disaster. Don’t impersonate her! I know full well how you came to be, molded by Salockdale, and my old Clan Leader was already insane then—probably because he recalled how cruelly he stabbed his once-most-beloved wife to death, driving him to despair and allowing you bastards to exploit a loophole…

Nothing good comes associated with you bastards!

Stay away from my wife!

Damned fool.”

“Stubborn idiot… When the Witch Cult’s first chant arose, when vampires craved refuge under midnight, when racial consciousness formed…”

“Ha! Witch Cult? I knew it! You weren’t born out of thin air; Salockdale couldn’t possibly create an Evil God by sacrificing the entire Blood Vulture Clan. The Path to Divinity isn’t that simple.”

Murphy sneered:

“So, your birth was based on that damn Witch Cult’s offered faith? Meaning, if I snuff out everyone in that weird sect, you’ll lose faith and be reduced to forgotten existence?”

The Mother of Midnight fell silent.

Ultimately just a freshly-born, half-year-old Divine Spirit, it lacked enough wisdom to prevail in such discussions, for its “mind” was not integrated with its body; it solely harbored power without divine duty, needing the subspace shadow and original sin’s attachment to continue existing in perilous planes.

As long as Triss is barred from nearing it, amidst stable current dimensional conditions, beyond bewitching Triss’s will each moment, it can achieve little else.

“Stay away from my wife! Final warning!”

Before fully sealing the subspace rift, Murphy uttered a harsh threat, then pressed forcefully, emitting pale light from his hands, closing the rift entirely.

The rapidly weakened spatial concept re-solidified, and defiling escape was obstructed; this act exhausted all Murphy’s strength, leaving him breathlessly seated on the ground.

Those Chaos Children bestowed with power from The Master of Hunting let out terrified screams simultaneously.

As subspace creatures, they could only exist where subspace aura pervaded, and now, the rift’s closure exposed their transformed forms to the physical world’s rules.

Old Man in agony covered his body as though invisible light ignited his shell, screaming and retreating, later pinned to the ground by Lady Yvette wielding a War Halberd, binding it, turning it into gray-white ash dispersing.

Other Chaos Children similarly collapsed under players’ ferocious attacks, one after another.

These guys were once High Priests of the Blood Scar Clan, bearing ample valuable items, now dropping post-collapse, tempting players to retrieve them, but Lady Yvette stopped them.

These items carry heavy subspace aura; if you don’t want Brother Meow’s previous tragedy repeated, don’t touch them!

“Thank you.”

Murphy, breathless on the ground, feebly raised his hand, expressing gratitude to Yvette.

The Third Lord regarded Murphy’s imposing feat of sealing the rift with nuanced gaze, leaned down, retrieving the blade pair named “Corrosive Wound” from Old Manse’s ashes, pulling her War Halberd from the rock.

She said:

“No need, pursuing these foul creatures is my vow, as well as your lord’s command, yet seeing Little Brother Murphy’s bravery truly stirs my heart; shall we find a place for me to heal your wounds?”

“Hehe, itching for another go, are you? Then let me ask: the majesty of the Mother of Midnight, does it…”

“Enough! You unromantic man, I was going to gift my underwear as victory memento, but forget it now!”