《The Game of God》 Chapter 1: I Came Here to Write a Legend Chapter 1: I Came Here to Write a Legend 2:44 PM, London. Henry hurriedly grabbed a can of Monster from the fridge and rushed back to his desk. The round table was cluttered with all sorts of gaming gear, dominated by six 34-inch monitors and three vertically rotated 21-inch screens, all glowing in the dimly lit room. The six 34-inch screens flickered with dazzling effects, sometimes completely obscuring the brutal battlefield behind them. "Get back to your position fast, the east side is being pushed hard! Shinn¡¯s team is moving in to fill the gap. Push right flank, right flank! Henry, can you rally more people? Do we still have the budget to hire more grinders? We¡¯re getting wrecked." Across the table, his teammate nearly screamed into the mic. Hours of shouting had left his voice hoarse. Henry took a quick swig of the energy drink and almost choked. He coughed a few times before burying his head close to the screen, his hands swiftly returning to the mouse and keyboard. A secondary vertical screen beside him was rapidly scrolling with chat messages from various groups. Their day had barely passed the three-hour mark. For the past two weeks, ever since Zephrania launched their Total Offensive campaign, they had been gritting their teeth, defending Asterith for an average of four hours a day. Henry glanced at the clan member list, which was now two-thirds grayed out, and felt a wave of frustration and helplessness. Most of their clan members, like many other players of this game, were regular people with their own lives. At 2 PM, they were either at work or in class. Clan leaders like Henry had even proposed paying those who could stay online for extended periods. About thirty people were available as a permanent force, while the rest could only take days off sporadically. Few could sustain this grueling schedule for two straight weeks. The Zephrania Empire had exploited peak online hours and time zone differences to the fullest. Chinese and Asian players made up a significant portion of Zephrania¡¯s forces. The offensives were launched from 6:00 PM to 10:00 PM Beijing time, the region¡¯s prime online hours. Henry moved his mouse to shift his in-game camera downward, looking over the walls of Asterith, where a sea of Zephrania¡¯s signature red armor stretched out as far as the eye could see. Asterith was now almost the last remaining stronghold of Estapha. If Asterith fell, only a single mountain pass would stand between Zephrania and Estaphalia, Estapha¡¯s final city. If Estaphalia was conquered, the kingdom of Estapha would collapse, and the game would end. 7:44 AM, New York. Gamers Assemble HQ, 7th floor. Helen half-walked, half-ran down the glass corridor, glancing down at the vast square outside. Even with the relaxed dress code of a gaming magazine, her appearance today was borderline unacceptable. Her blond hair was still unkempt, strands hanging messily over her thick glasses. She wore a wrinkled t-shirt, loose-fitting khaki pants, and hastily slipped-on sneakers. ¡°Oh well,¡± she muttered while grabbing a cup of extra-strong coffee from the pantry¡ªa robusta blend her boss had recommended. "A little condensed milk will make it more palatable." Her 44-year-old Vietnamese boss had once told her that, and he was right¡ªcondensed milk and robusta beans made for an unexpectedly explosive combination. But it wasn¡¯t even 8 AM yet, and no staff were around to refill the milk trays. With no other choice, she took the black coffee and grimaced as she sipped the bitter liquid. The entire office was empty. It¡¯s not even 8 AM! she thought again. While her colleagues were still snug in bed or leisurely driving along Highway 87, she was already at work. "Oh well," she repeated to herself. "This is the climax of the Esta-doom campaign, and my tiny apartment doesn¡¯t even have a laptop strong enough to run this game. Streaming on my phone? Not happening." As one of the reporters covering this game, she knew the offensives would start at 5 AM New York time and last about four hours. By the time Helen booted up her office PC and logged in, it was already 8:11 AM. Still in time, she thought. Valia was a cross-platform game, meaning it could be played on PCs, laptops, tablets, and even phones. Helen had been monitoring the battle on her phone during her bus ride, but only her office PC could barely handle a livestream without lagging. Today, like the past few days, there hadn¡¯t been any significant developments on either side. After using the webcam to scan her face, she could finally control her in-game character. Due to the game''s face-recognition login system and the one-account-per-person rule, Helen had unconsciously begun treating her in-game character as an extension of herself. Her avatar, Helena, had the same shoulder-length blond hair, the same 5''9" height, and wore the signature ivory armor of Estapha. Just like Helen in real life, Helena was an energetic, on-the-ground journalist appearing at every major hotspot, using the game¡¯s Record function to broadcast the latest events to the audience. Helena spawned at the West Gate watchtower of Asterith, her last logout location. Only through the PC¡¯s wide screen could Helen fully grasp the scale and intensity of the battlefield. From the watchtower, she gazed down at the blood-soaked siege reaching its climax. "Zephrania¡¯s red-clad legions surge forward from the East, West, and South like a broken dam, clashing head-on with the resolute, indomitable warriors in Astapha¡¯s white armor. In these historic days, which will decide the fate of this game, every soldier has seemingly changed their armor back to its default color¡ªan unspoken declaration of loyalty and defiance." Helen began her commentary. This was a live stream. The view count instantly shot up to 200,000 across all platforms. North American teens, these days, were waking up much earlier than usual. "And also, so they can tell friend from foe more easily," Helen thought but left unsaid. Large-scale battles required uniform colors. She continued narrating, though today¡¯s scene was nearly identical to yesterday¡¯s. Her viewer count was dropping. Understandable. Audiences had grown too familiar with this grand war spectacle. Then¡ª "Grarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!" A deafening roar from the game reverberated through the stream, shaking the screen violently. A white-hot inferno erupted below, and a massive silver dragon soared past Helena¡¯s view. With the precision of a seasoned camerawoman, Helen swiftly swiped her mouse to track the creature. The spiked silver dragon executed a flawless arc in the sky before turning and unleashing another blast of flames directly at Asterith. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "Arcturus!" "Mighty Summoned Arcturus is here!" "A real Mighty Summoned beast!" "And Cerluva too!" "Cerluva and Bhaeta are here!" "Three Mighty Summoners in action, and they still can''t bring down Asterith?" "Maybe just for content." "Why is everyone scared of Mighty Summoners? They¡¯re overrated." "You''re wrong. I once saw a Demi Summoner go all out. One of them wiped out an entire battalion of my clan! And that was just a Demi Summoner!" The chat exploded with discussions about the three Mighty Summoned Gods. Asian journalists had reported this two hours ago, but for North American viewers just waking up, it was still fresh news. "Oh! That¡¯s right," Helen adjusted her camera for a full battlefield view while commenting. "Zephrania is getting serious. We know there are a total of eight Mighty Summoners to be reported in the game¡ªsix in Zephrania, two in Estapha. Today, Zephrania has deployed three!" "I thought Asterith would fall days ago. I¡¯m logging in to fight!" "Wait for me, bro!" "Helena, why do you think Estapha has lasted this long? It¡¯s beyond expectation." Helen had the same question. With over a million Zephrania players throwing themselves into battle like relentless tidal waves, with thousands of spells, tens of thousands of arrows, and cannon fire blotting out the sky, and with three Mighty Summoners leading the charge¡ªwhy was Asterith still standing? Many shared this question. And the answer wasn¡¯t that complicated. 5:14 AM, Airspace Over the United Arab Emirates (UAE) "The game¡¯s self-balancing mechanism." "Huh?" He pretended not to hear the harsh question from his companion, lazily stretching out in his seat and extending both arms. On the table in front of him, the tablet stood propped up, still streaming battlefield footage from Helen¡¯s livestream¡ªbut muted. He had taken long-haul flights before when participating in international tournaments, but his body had never quite adapted to the torture of air travel. Fourteen hours in the air was pure agony. "Hey, explain it properly!" Sitting across from him in their private jet, the Korean girl with a high ponytail and oversized sunglasses¡ªprobably a product endorsed by some idol group, Blackpink maybe? He wasn¡¯t sure¡ªleaned forward, smacking the seat armrest in frustration. Pouting, she spoke in a sharp, annoyed tone: "I told you, the Asterith fortress might fall before we even land! But you keep insisting it won¡¯t! Why the hell not? What do you mean by ¡®self-balancing mechanism¡¯?" As if the exhaustion wasn¡¯t enough, now he had to endure her piercing voice drilling into his ears. He regretted forgetting to bring his noise-canceling earbuds. His eyes drifted toward the five other men on the flight. Like him and the girl, they were all dressed in black suits and wearing sunglasses, making the entire team look like they were auditioning for Men in Black. Each one he glanced at simply shrugged as if to say, You¡¯re on your own, buddy. He sighed. Well, there were still about twenty minutes left before landing. Might as well wake himself up with some conversation. "From the beginning, Valia was designed around a very simple self-balancing theory," he said, straightening up and reaching for a notebook and pen on the table. "Since this is a two-faction war, if one side gains even a slight advantage, that advantage will snowball into an overwhelming lead." "You mean snowballing?" The girl scoffed. "Everyone knows that!" Suppressing another sigh, he shot her a glance over his sunglasses, paused for a few seconds, then drew a circle on the paper. He started shading one half of it in black until the darkened area almost consumed the entire circle, leaving only a tiny sliver of white. "If the black side keeps expanding¡" "You mean the red side!" (A brief silence.) "If the red side keeps expanding, taking over nearly the entire map, and uses that overwhelming advantage to attack the last stronghold of the white side¡ªwhat happens next?" "Easy. The red side will crush the remaining white forces and end the game!" The girl cheered triumphantly, but he shook his head. Pointing his pen at the tiny white space left, he explained: "Remember, this little area will be where all the remaining white players gather. The player density in that region will be extremely high. The red faction may have an overwhelming numerical advantage, but no matter how many players they have, only a limited number can attack at once, right? Now, imagine that in each skirmish, the red side loses 100 troops, and the white side also loses 100 troops. The difference is that the 100 red troops will respawn at their nearest base, while the 100 white troops will respawn right at their defending point. If the white side keeps defending, respawning, and defending again, the red side will gradually lose its initial momentum, and their assault won¡¯t be sustainable. If they fail to break through quickly, the battle will eventually return to a balanced state." Through her sunglasses, he could see Sara frowning in deep thought. Sitting across from her, a bald man with a long, gaunt face, a rugged beard, and a tattoo running down his cheek suddenly chuckled. His voice was calm and measured¡ªalmost gentle, a stark contrast to his intimidating appearance. "Ha ha, Sara¡¯s used to brute-forcing her way through opponents. These kinds of analyses are tough for her. But Korea is a MOBA powerhouse, right? Try thinking of it like a MOBA game." Sara¡¯s face lit up with excitement. She grinned. "A MOBA game! How did you know that Faker-oppa is my idol, Alex?" She gasped, then suddenly remembered something. "Oh! There was this super old match¡ªso old that I wasn¡¯t even in elementary school yet! But I was a die-hard Faker fan, so I went back and watched it. In that game, Faker¡¯s SKT team had a huge lead, but no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn¡¯t break into the enemy base. The enemy ADC farmed up to 1000 CS and eventually turned the game around!" Alex, the bald man, chuckled. "See? Makes more sense now, doesn¡¯t it? There are differences, of course, but from a bird¡¯s-eye view, Valia can be considered a massively scaled MOBA game. Naturally, it has to have an inherent self-balancing mechanism. In fact, many analysts predicted this situation nearly a year ago. But¡" He paused. "There¡¯s been an unexpected variable." "Not entirely unexpected," another man¡ªchubby, sitting next to Alex¡ªinterrupted. "Everyone got it wrong¡ except two of us." He gestured toward him. He remained silent. "Huh? Huh?!" Sara couldn¡¯t hide her curiosity. "What variable? What are you talking about?" "Why Asterith?" Alex asked slowly. "The final siege should have been on Estaphalia¡ªthe capital city of the Estapha Kingdom. Asterith isn¡¯t even the kingdom¡¯s last fortress. Why would Zephrania go to such lengths to publicly launch a massive campaign against Asterith? Didn¡¯t they realize that by announcing such a large-scale invasion, they would also alert countless veteran Estapha players and bring them back online to defend? Even if they conquer Asterith, will they still have enough resources and strength to storm Estaphalia, which will be packed with defenders?" "Nobody expected Zephrania to make such a strange move, right?" The chubby man grinned, revealing his yellowish teeth. "But two months ago, within our team, two people predicted this exact scenario¡ªour Captain and this Vietnamese gamer right here." Sara looked at him, her eyebrows raising above the frame of her sunglasses, unable to hide her curiosity¡ªand perhaps a bit of admiration. "You made the same prediction as our Captain?" she gasped. "Our Captain that we are talking about! You¡¯re that good? Hey, tell me! Why Asterith? How did you figure it out?" Annoying. Headache-inducing. He cursed under his breath. Could the Zephranian Emperor have come up with this strategy to launch an all-out assault on Asterith? Probably not. But that-guy could. He and that guy knew each other too well. If he put himself in that guy¡¯s shoes, there was only one answer to breaking the game¡¯s self-balancing mechanism¡ªlaunching a Total War campaign against Asterith. Through his sunglasses, reflecting the first rays of the morning sun, he stared intently at the tablet screen still displaying the brutal battlefield of Valia. There, gamers fought for survival, each struggling to carve out their moment of glory. Kingdoms rose and fell, greedy players struck it rich overnight only to lose it all, and countless people wasted hours of their real lives in this virtual world. And in that world, nobodies could become legends. Before Sara could bombard him with more questions, the cockpit door opened, and a man with slightly wavy, shoulder-length hair and a rugged, wandering look stepped inside. Lowering his sunglasses, he scanned everyone on board before flashing a lazy smirk. "Alright, my fellow frustrated, life-hating no-name gamers. Get ready for landing. Remember, we¡¯re here to make history." His deep blue eyes locked onto him, and he stared back without hesitation. The Captain kept his unreadable smirk, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. He smiled back. It had been three years, and now he had finally arrived on the battlefield of Valia. The real world had taken everything from him. Now, he had come to Valia to take it all back. He had come to write his own legend. Chapter 2: Plug in Your Mouse, Henry Chapter 2: Plug in Your Mouse, Henry Many online gamers are deeply invested in the lore and world-building of their favorite games. In Valia, the 54 fortresses scattered across the land are remnants of an ancient civilization. Millennia have passed since their fall, until the Adventurers¡ªaka avatars of the players¡ªarrived and began utilizing what was left behind. Some believe these fortresses hide a grand secret¡ªperhaps a massive treasure¡ªand that only when a faction activates all 54 strongholds will the treasure map be revealed. Or something along those lines. Over time, more and more theories have emerged, all revolving around the same question: why must the two factions fight to death? The answer is simple¡ªwhoever controls all 54 fortresses can reach that secret treasure. However valuable this rumored treasure may be, it ultimately exists within a virtual world. Most players don''t particularly care about it. The ones actively participating in this war do so partly due to the competitive spirit ingrained in every gamer¡ªbut more importantly, because of the absurd amount of real-world money being poured into this game. That¡¯s right¡ªreal money. === Shun shifted uncomfortably in his brand-new suit, which he had picked up from some high-end boutique in town. Handcrafted by a seasoned French tailor¡ªat least, that''s what the sales clerk had enthusiastically babbled about. The suit was paired with seamless oxford shoes made from cordovan leather, crafted by some Paolo-someone who only produced ten pairs per year. Shun didn¡¯t care much for Western fashion. He had simply walked into the store and asked for the most expensive outfit available. The shoes were as stiff as rocks. Muttering curses under his breath, he strode across the cobblestone boulevard. Leather shoes required a break-in period, but he hadn¡¯t known that. Western shoe lasts were long and narrow¡ªill-suited for his broader Asian feet¡ªbut he hadn¡¯t cared either. As the second son of a wealthy Chinese - Japanese family, had he ever once needed to dress up like this for anyone. Shun¡¯s father was a Japanese politician who had risen from humble farmer origins in Fukui. Hardworking and charismatic, the man was a shining presence on media. In stark contrast, Shun¡¯s mother was reserved and enigmatic. Few knew that her Chinese family wielded immense influence¡ªcontrolling a third of Japan¡¯s economy and exerting significant sway over South Korea. For twenty-two years, Shun had been the black sheep of his family. His older brother became the Japanese Prime Minister¡¯s secretary at the age of twenty-eight, and his younger sister was on track to earn a Harvard Law degree and pursue a Ph.D. at just nineteen. In comparison, Shun had dropped out of three universities within a month of enrollment and burned through tens of millions of dollars on frivolous pursuits. To his parents, he was nothing short of a colossal disappointment. "What are your aspirations in life? Your passions? Surely, you must have a purpose beyond drifting aimlessly?" His mother had once asked him this, her voice calm and composed, even as she became one of the most powerful figures in their clan. "I like games," Shun had replied curtly before walking out the door. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn¡¯t returned home since. Could this be considered running away? He wasn¡¯t sure. It didn¡¯t seem like his family had even noticed his absence¡ªafter all, his bills were still being forwarded to them, and the household functioned just fine without him. "Down on the boulevard, they take it hard They look at life with such disregard~~" He hummed softly, turning into a secluded alleyway. === No one would have guessed that behind the narrow entrance of this old townhouse lay a private club. A small reception counter was tucked behind the doorway, where an elderly Chinese man in a sleek tuxedo stood silently. A Chinese elder in a tuxedo¡ªit was an unusual sight. He neither moved nor spoke when Shun entered. Here, silence was an unspoken rule. Shun stepped forward and presented a card. This was his first time here. The atmosphere inside was far from stuffy or oppressive¡ªrather, it was cool and pleasant. A faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, reminiscent of the oak tea table in his father¡¯s study. The fragrance wafted from the liquor shelves and bookshelves lining the room. The chandelier¡¯s soft glow cast gentle waves of light over the black-lacquered reception desk, where a jade box lay open. Wearing pristine white gloves, the elder respectfully placed Shun¡¯s card inside the box. The old man then led him to the staircase, motioning for him to ascend while he remained behind, bowing slightly. As Shun climbed, he suppressed the discomfort in his feet from the stiff shoes. The wooden stairs led to a spacious tearoom, its refined elegance resembling his mother¡¯s reserved style rather than his father¡¯s ostentatious displays. Seated at the tea table was another man. In an instant, Shun could feel the man¡¯s gaze scan over him. Though brief and nearly imperceptible, Shun was well-versed in assessing glances¡ªhe had received plenty in his lifetime. The man leaned on a cane as he stood, nodding slightly, acknowledging that Shun¡¯s new attire met the club¡¯s standards. "Requiring people to dress formally¡ªit¡¯s a subtle form of psychological manipulation," Shun mused. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The solemn atmosphere, combined with the stiffness of his suit and the pristine elegance of the man before him, made him more tense than he had anticipated. It was just a discussion about an online game, yet even as a wealthy heir, he couldn¡¯t help but feel the pressure. "Longjing, Jade, or Pu-erh? What¡¯s your preference?" The man, naturally and comfortably dressed in a formal daytime suit with a white bow tie, casually revealed a Patek Philippe Calatrava peeking from his wrist. (Unlike fashion, Shun had an eye for luxury watches.) The man¡¯s European features were sharp yet not overly angular, and his voice was warm and inviting¡ªenough to charm any woman in Asia. "I¡¯ll have Oolong." Shun responded in a softer tone than usual. He rarely drank tea, and even when he did, it was reluctantly during family gatherings. To him, Oolong was the safest choice. If he were being honest, his ideal drink was still just a few cans of Monster Energy for an all-night gaming session. The man nodded slightly, reclining in his chair. Within moments, a group of attendants materialized, swiftly and silently arranging an elaborate tea set before them. "This is our first time meeting, isn¡¯t it, Shun?" The man finally spoke after taking a sip of tea. "Relax¡ªthis is a space for our Guild. No need for excessive formality. Of course, certain standards must be upheld, as this building holds a long tradition. Ah, traditions¡ªyou must be familiar with them. This property still belongs to the World Bank, after all." Shun took in his surroundings. He imagined a time when this room was filled with the world¡¯s elites, sipping tea while shaping the course of history. And now, here he was¡ªa dropout and a drifter, clad in a unfit RTW suit, about to discuss an online game. "I heard you¡¯re a senior member of the World Bank, aren¡¯t you, John?" Johnathan nodded, his emerald-green eyes blinking as golden lashes caught the light. "For now, yes. I don¡¯t crave power, but sometimes, a title can smooth things over. It¡¯s not always about wealth¡ªsometimes, just having the right designation can make life easier." "Like getting access to this room?" "Exactly. And also our Guild. But most importantly, it allows me to connect with remarkable individuals like you. You all make my otherwise dull life far more interesting." "Hah. I¡¯m just a college dropout who¡¯s addicted to games." "The Guild has strict standards regarding background and ability, that much is true. But above all else, every member must have a genuine passion for the-game. So, tell me, Shun¡ªwhat does Valia mean to you?" Shun hesitated for a moment. This was an important question. "In that world," he finally answered, "I was reborn." Johnathan smiled. === "The damage from Arcturus¡¯s last attack was 156k." Henry lowered one side of his headset and spoke to his five teammates in the room. Their clan was originally responsible for defending the eastern gate, but with the western gate on the brink of collapse, all six of them had to rush to reinforce it. "If we let it spew a dozen more attacks like that, the western gate will be gone. The JAV team really is all talk!" A teammate, galloping beside Henry, grumbled. Just like them, JAV¡ªshort for Javelin¡ªwas also a professional team. Both clans were from Europe, roughly equal in strength, and frequently faced off as rivals in tournaments. Unlike Zephrania, which had a well-organized command structure, Estapha lacked centralized leadership, making it difficult to issue top-down decisions. Most of the time, the major teams were just seen bickering and competing with each other to pocket as much of the budget as possible. To counter Zephrania¡¯s Grand Offensive campaign, Estapha had also been granted a massive financial boost. This was real-life money, which was converted into "army upkeep"¡ªessentially salaries for players participating in the defense. The rest was spent on thousands of in-game gear sets. At present, statistics showed that over 20 million players had been part of Estapha¡¯s faction at some point. However, the actual number of online players had been gradually declining. Zephrania¡¯s expansion was draining Estapha¡¯s resources¡ªplayers were losing cities, farming zones, and dungeons. Leveling up became slower, and acquiring gear and materials grew increasingly difficult. Too many players were crammed into ever-shrinking territory, and the experience wasn¡¯t exactly enjoyable when they were constantly getting crushed by Zephrania¡¯s dominant forces. This had caused more and more players to quit the game. However, thanks to the recent influx of sponsorship money, the number of active players had surged again. At one point, as many as 500,000 players were online simultaneously in Asterith to defend the city! Casual players returned for the financial support¡ªand for the free gear upgrades. Some were also motivated by a sense of patriotic duty toward their virtual homeland, Estapha. Standing on the grand battlefield, they, too, felt a surge of pride and courage. For professional teams, however, this defensive campaign was more than just a battle¡ªit was an opportunity to showcase their skills, secure funding, and, most importantly, ensure that the game didn¡¯t end. This game was their livelihood. If Zephrania truly defeated Estapha and brought the war to a conclusion, where would the professional tournaments go? How would they make a living? Perhaps many players on Zephrania¡¯s side had their own internal conflicts as well, but they were on the winning team. The prize pool had been set by major backers¡ªreal money, a fortune for the victorious faction. The top players of Zephrania would receive a hefty sum, enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. That was their primary motivation for pushing to end the game. In contrast, professional gamers from Estapha, like Henry and his team, were the ones who desperately wanted to prolong the war. Henry¡¯s team, KOG¡ªKnights of Gale¡ªhad six official members, the very same six people who were now in the midst of this grueling defense. They charged forward on warhorses, beasts tamed through the Tamer skill tree. The steeds from the Cassian plains were reliable partners for Knights and Paladins, turning them into fearsome war machines on the battlefield. Henry spurred his horse forward. His mount, Copenhagen¡ªnamed after the legendary steed that carried the Duke of Wellington to victory over Napoleon¡ªsurged ahead, breaking from formation as its superior stamina and speed propelled him toward the Summoner who had called forth the Ice Dragon, Arcturus. "We¡¯re charging straight for that Summoner. Force him to burn all his Spirit Points, or better yet, send him back to base!" Henry shouted. "Mighty Summoners are always surrounded by elite bodyguards," said Jin, sitting across from him. At 28 years old, Jin was considered somewhat "old" for professional gaming, but he made up for it with stability and experience. As the team captain, he was always the one to rein in their youthful recklessness when needed. "That much is obvious!" Henry was still resolute. He quickly downed another gulp of Monster energy drink. "But this is our best option right now. It¡¯s rare for a Mighty Summoner to expose himself like this during a siege. If we take him out, he¡¯ll be crippled for an entire month, and Zephrania will lose one of their biggest weapons." Jin had to admit that Henry had a point. He glanced at him through the gap between their screens. The freckle-faced, cocky blond, usually smirking or rolling his eyes, now had an intense, focused expression. Whenever Henry looked like this in a match, he always pulled off something spectacular. At this moment, there was only one thing left for Jin to say. "Plug in your mouse, Henry." Chapter 3: Into the Battle Chapter 3: Into the Battle Valia is a game that allows complete freedom in character development, without predefined classes. The names of different classes are merely labels created by the community to describe specific playstyles. This means that any character can freely reset and allocate their stats to become any class. Except for Summoners. To become a Summoner, a character must obtain a Summon Relic, which allows them to summon the projection of a corresponding god. Acquiring a Relic isn¡¯t purely about grinding or meticulous exploration¡ªit largely depends on fate. No reliable method has been discovered to narrow down the search for Summon Relics. Some even believe that the gods themselves seek out suitable players to grant them the role of Summoner. Whether it''s random luck, predestined fate, or the reward for perseverance, one thing is certain: Summoned Gods are immensely powerful. But with great power comes great sacrifice. A Summoner must permanently give up a portion of their Mana. If you sign a contract with a Quad Summoned God, you sacrifice one-fourth of your Mana bar. A Demi Summoned God requires you to sacrifice half. And finally, a Mighty Summoned God demands all of your Mana, converting it into Spirit Points instead. Spirit Points are the only resource a Summoner can use to summon and command their Summoned God. However, they do not regenerate naturally. Once a month, Summoners must spend an entire day at their god¡¯s sanctuary to replenish their Spirit Points. Becoming a Mighty Summoner means completely losing your Mana bar, rendering you unable to cast normal skills. Moreover, your Spirit Points are limited and must last the entire month. However, in return, Mighty Summoners gain a unique advantage¡ªthey can burn all their Spirit Points in a single battle, unleashing catastrophic destruction. Quad Summoners serve as trump cards in mid-scale battles. Demi Summoners are strategic-level weapons. But each Mighty Summoner is a weapon of mass destruction, a national treasure. Each one is an atomic bomb. In three years of war between the two Empires, never before had a Mighty Summoner flown high above the battlefield to launch an assault on a fortress. The siege power of the Dragon God Arcturus was terrifying, but putting the Summoner in the air like this also made him a prime target. If they lost a Mighty Summoner for an entire month just for a few siege attacks, it would be an unacceptable trade-off. Estapha understood this. But even after three hours of battle, they had been unable to exploit this vulnerability. The heavy firepower from Zephrania created a perfect curtain of defense, and breaking through it would require a large force. If they sent too many troops deep into enemy lines to hunt the Summoner, their formation would collapse, leaving them vulnerable to a counterattack. That¡¯s where Henry¡¯s keen tactical mind shone. If it were just the six of them launching a surprise attack, even if they failed, it wouldn¡¯t disrupt Estapha¡¯s defensive line. Henry boasted about sending the Summoner back to respawn, while Jin believed that even disrupting Arcturus¡¯s siege would be a major success. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Just as expected, a national treasure like a Mighty Summoner would never be left unguarded. Around him was a high-level escort squad, forming a tight security satellite formation. These were Zephrania¡¯s elite soldiers, paid specifically to do one thing¡ªprotect the Summoner. They were not like ordinary players who might recklessly charge into battle. These guards had no bloodlust, no desire to rack up kills. Their job was simple and dull: shield the Summoner at all costs. They would not show any openings. There were 20 of them, including the Summoner. When the Summoner finally appeared within sight, Jin analyzed their formation. Each party in Valia could have up to 10 members, forming a squad. Coordinating more than two squads effectively was difficult, so having two squads protect a Summoner was a common defensive strategy. ¡°Henry, don¡¯t get shock-killed.¡± Jin barely had time to call out before Henry spurred his horse forward, charging ahead without hesitation. "Cover me! Cover this side!" Jin tapped his Tab key to voice-call the commander of the western fortress defense. Recognizing the importance of this assault, the defensive players quickly gave the order. Thousands of arrows rained down from above. Hundreds of spells descended like a storm. A vast AOE barrage wiped out almost all of Zephrania¡¯s regular players, preventing them from using sheer numbers to overwhelm Henry. Now, only the two elite guard squads stood between him and the Summoner. Void Lock! Gravital Chain! Paralyze Bolt! As expected, the escort squad specialized in crowd-control skills. The Paralyze Bolt was cast last but would reach first. It was a high-speed lightning attack with a 30% chance of paralyzing movement. Its only warning sign was the elaborate casting motion of the attacker. The battle hadn¡¯t even begun, yet they dared to cast such a sluggish spell in broad daylight? They had underestimated Henry¡¯s reflexes. In just two frames, Henry calculated the cast speed and adjusted accordingly. He made his horse leap into the air and swiftly tilted his camera downward, pressing the Double Jump command. Cassian Warhorses had a unique skill: they could jump a second time in mid-air. If the camera was tilted upward, the second jump would ascend higher. If tilted downward, the horse would dive forward at high speed. The first jump was just enough to dodge Paralyze Bolt. The second sent Henry plummeting downward, avoiding unnecessary air-time. The moment his hooves touched the ground, he was already executing the next move. Heroic Trial! A holy aura wrapped around him and his steed. Heroic Trial, a Might-Holy skill, increased resistance to debuffs. This skill was essential for high-speed mounted combat. The longer the movement, the stronger the effect. At that moment, Gravital Chain activated. The Gravital Chain spell created a gravity-linked chain between the caster and a fixed point in space. Phase 1: The caster prepares the anomaly point. Phase 2: The caster activates the chain, forcing all targets within range to suffer heavy slow and eventual stun. "Trying to force me off my path? Keep dreaming!" Henry smirked. Instead of dodging, he raised his ivory-colored shield and jumped off his horse at the last second. With one flick of his pinky, he tapped Ctrl. Switched from third-person to first-person view. From this perspective, he could perfectly aim at the anomaly point right in front of him. He smashed his shield straight into it. Shield Bash! A basic Might skill, normally weaker than Gravital Chain. But Henry¡¯s shield wasn¡¯t ordinary. The Holy Aegis Narwhal. Legendary +20, granting Invincible when using Might skills. The Shield Bash disrupted the Gravital Chain, allowing Henry to flip mid-air and land perfectly back on his horse. His speed never dropped. Ahead of him¡ªVoid Lock. Wing of Gale! A Wind-Heart spell that boosted movement speed. But it wasn¡¯t enough. Wing of Gale! This time, cast by Lana, a pure support. With her boost, Henry became a streak of divine light. He blazed past Void Lock, shining like a war god, dual Cross Swords raised high. ¡°HERE COMES YOUR DADDYYYY!!!¡± In real life, Henry shouted at the top of his lungs. Chapter 4: The Land of Legends Chapter 4: The Land of Legends The sight of a lone knight rampaging through the enemy ranks quickly caught Helen¡¯s attention. From the West Tower, her view was crystal clear¡ªone figure in white wreaking havoc among the enemy troops. ¡°That¡¯s Henry!¡± ¡°Show some respect! You should call him Sir Henry! The chat channel instantly erupted with comments. ¡°Call him Sir Henry, bro.¡± ¡°Sir Henry!¡± ¡°Sir Henry is here!¡± ¡°Wait, why do we call him ¡®Sir¡¯ though?¡± ¡°Henry giveth, Henry taketh¡ªwin or lose, it¡¯s all by his decree!¡± "Henry giveth, Henry taketh"¡ª this had become a famous meme summarizing the playstyle of the Knights of Gale team. Henry was notorious as a reckless Paladin, always the first to charge into battle. If Henry successfully disrupted the enemy¡¯s formation, his team would achieve a crushing victory. If Henry got surrounded and killed, his team would suffer a devastating defeat. He was the dispenser of victory¡ªthe only question was, for which side? Helen wished she could just leap off the tower to capture a close-up of Henry¡¯s charge. The observation post was 200 meters high¡ªjumping down would mean instant death. She certainly couldn¡¯t afford a Pegasus, either. She had debated completing the Dragon¡¯s Eye quest to gain long-range vision, but the cost would be a significant reduction in movement speed, making her slow as a turtle. As a battlefield reporter, she couldn¡¯t afford to trade mobility for zoom functionality. She cursed her stingy boss under her breath. Despite being one of the top three gaming magazines in North America, they refused to fund in-game upgrades for their staff. ¡°Don¡¯t use work as an excuse, you just want better gear to play, don¡¯t you?¡± Damn that old bastard! The man had been a deputy editor at a traditional print newspaper, a relic from the old journalism world, and somehow ended up leading an online gaming magazine. What a disaster! In his eyes, game reporting was nothing more than playing around. Real journalism required field reporting, interviews, editing, and print issues¡ªwithout that, it wasn¡¯t true journalism. That was also why Helen could never get approval for a high-end laptop to work from home. Work-from-home was a joke to her old-school Vietnamese boss. ¡°I¡¯ll invest in a high-performance PC, but it must be set up at the office. If you want to work, you come in!¡± ¡ª ¡°Steve, Steve!¡± Now was the time for her journalistic instincts to kick in. A year in Valia had earned her some useful connections. Stephen, currently in charge of defending the West Tower, was one such contact¡ªthough not exactly a close one. He was the one who allowed her access to the tower for reporting, albeit reluctantly. ¡°Don¡¯t move the camera around too much. If you reveal our defensive positions, I¡¯ll get yelled at, AGAIN!¡± he had grumbled yesterday. Now, amidst the chaos of the siege, Helen hesitated to bother him, afraid of triggering his temper. But she had no choice. ¡°Steve, lend me a Peg Knight.¡± She ran up to his character, worried that the battlefield noise would drown out her voice. ¡°What?!¡± As expected, he was annoyed. ¡°A Pegasus Knight! I need to get down there and film Henry up close.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this! Damn it¡ªarchers, aim at coordinates 333,17. Mages, hold your fire! I said hold it! Wait for cooldowns, don¡¯t shoot randomly! I¡¯m swamped here, lady!¡± ¡°Your team needs morale! Let me put Henry on stream¡ªhe¡¯ll inspire all of Estapha!¡± ¡°CC team, slow the left flank! Cover the tanks below! Ugh, fine, fine¡ªMud, drop this woman down there. One-way trip only, though! Once she¡¯s down, she¡¯s on her own!¡± Helen sent him a flying kiss emoji. ¡°Thanks, darling!¡± Neeeighhh! Flap! Flap! You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. A loud neigh and the beating of wings followed. A white-winged horse descended gracefully. The Pegasus Knight class, known for aerial combat, specialized in mobility and agility. Like Knights and Paladins, they had diverse skill and stat customization paths. Seated on the Pegasus was Mud. He guided the mount down low enough for Helen to mount up. In Valia, mounts allowed up to two riders. Helen wasn¡¯t a combatant¡ªshe was a battlefield journalist, built for endurance rather than agility. Though her armor wasn¡¯t as bulky as a heavy tank, it still weighed down the Pegasus. The steed neighed, picked up speed, and then took flight. Its movements were no longer as fluid, and its speed dropped by about 20%. Even through a computer screen, Helen felt dizzy from the height. The sound of rushing wind filled her headset, partially drowning out the clang of weapons and the whizzing of spells below. Despite her Press Banner marking her as neutral, stray projectiles were still a real danger. Luckily, Steve had already did as Jin requested, ordered the tower¡¯s archers and mages to provide covering fire. This conveniently cleared a path for Helen. ¡°This is as far as I go.¡± ¡°Got it, thanks!¡± At 20 meters above the ground, Mud maneuvered the Pegasus into a glide, and Helen dismounted, executing a not-so-graceful landing. She lost 1/10 of her HP from fall damage, but it was worth it¡ªshe was now close enough. Positioned on a rocky outcrop about 600-700 meters from the Zephrania Summoner¡¯s defensive line, she activated Focus Aim, a skill from the Precision skill tree. It wasn¡¯t as powerful as Dragon¡¯s Eye, but it allowed archers and gunners to snipe targets from up to 400 meters away. From 700 meters, it was perfect for filming. That¡¯s when she saw Henry charge out of Void Lock, a divine figure on horseback. Boom! Boom! Crowd control skills failed to stop Henry. But in games, the strongest CC was always reducing your opponent¡¯s HP to zero. The Summoner¡¯s Guard had no intention of merely delaying him¡ªthey launched a full-scale barrage. Flame Surge! Ice Spike! Plasma Surge! Necrotic Wave! Corrosive Rain! Piercing Arrow! Power Shot! Of the 19 defenders, 9 were ranged DPS. They didn¡¯t attack simultaneously but coordinated their skills in a well-practiced rhythm, covering every angle. Clang! Clang! Clang! Henry raised both his shields¡ªone black, one white¡ªblocking nearly every attack.