pdf-ebookys Chapter 190: Second Battle (2)
Chapter 190: Second Battle (2)
Twenty-something Johan had many memories of desperate running in his short life.
His earliest running had been as a child when he stole food hidden in a neighbor's junk pile due to extreme hunger. His mother, both ashamed and embarrassed, chased him with a poker from one end of the slums to the other.
Johan only remembered that his mother cried louder than him when she was doling out the beating.
Later, he learned that stealing others' food was wrong because they needed it too... If his theft caused someone else to die so he could live, then he would have made a grave mistake.
Countless running followed, not because John did anything wrong. At least, he was certain of that.
One winter, when he was just over ten, collecting cow dung at the mule and horse market for fuel, a kind stable worker saw him staggering with hunger and gave him a small bag of beans meant for horses to take home.
That small bag of black beans could save his family. When the older kids there tried to steal it, Johan abandoned the dung bag, clutched the beans, and ran for his life, not stopping even when a stone thrown by the other kids cracked his head open, until he reached home and handed the beans to his mother.
As he grew up and started finding odd jobs on the streets of Indahl, Johan had been chased away by city police countless times and had to run from others trying to beat him up for less competition; when he made some money, he had to avoid gangsters and other peers that couldn't find any work...
Johan convinced himself that running away wasn't shameful as long as he hadn't done anything wrong.
Running was for survival—just like he was now. He wasn't a soldier, so his actions weren't desertion.
He was just doing his utmost to flee from those who would harm him.
The forcefully conscripted "militia" had no will to fight from the beginning, not a single person shouted war cries during the forced charge; everyone was just helplessly going with the flow, and after more than ten continuous hours with only some boiled potatoes and no water, their throats were parched, and no one had the strength to scream.
In a crowd of several thousand silently "charging" forward, that lone cry of surrender was strikingly conspicuous...
The people around John were the first to be influenced, especially the young man behind him who had been sobbing continuously. He was just a restaurant waiter, who would be scared for days simply by receiving a reprimand from his supervisor for delivering the wrong dessert. Warfare was nowhere in this citizen's life plan.
Instinctively, the young city dweller, a year younger than Johan, also dropped the useless sharpened wooden pole in his hands and, imitating Johan, raised his hands, stuttering softly (he didn't have the strength to shout), "Surrender, surrender!"
Humans were most susceptible to the influence of others when they were in a heightened emotional state and faced with situations they couldn't adapt to. More and more people dropped their "weapons," those who had the strength to shout began to shout their surrender, and those who didn't just gasped for air, helplessly running along.
On the other side, in front of the Weisshem camp.
In OtherWorld, it was nine in the morning, corresponding to 5 p.m. on Earth.
It wasn't yet the peak online period at this time. Many players were either just getting out of school and not yet home (or back to their dorms) or still at work, with only half of the peak number of players online.
Tang Jia finished her afternoon elective course and returned to her dorm early to log in, just in time for the second round of battlefield missions.
She had just met up with her friends and joined the raid group that had been active throughout the entire territory war when the city gates opposite them opened and NPCs started pouring out.
"Huh... Why are they all yellow-named mobs?" Tang Jia cast "Identify" out of habit, and the dense mass of "Weisshem citizens" shocked her. "What's going on? Isn't it the second round of battle starting?"
"Yeah, why are there so few of those monsters from yesterday, and they are all just camping beneath the city walls?" Yang Ying was also perplexed.
As more and more "enemy forces" gathered in front of the city gates, the players waiting in front of the camp became increasingly confused.
When the "enemy forces" formed up, the players collectively became agitated.
"It's all civilian NPCs. What's there to fight?!"
"What the heck, I don't even see a Lv1 monster!"
Johan, shouting his surrender, came face-to-face with the armored skeletons, and his heart trembled with fear—these undead, when up close, were indeed terrifying!
Had these undead not refrained from drawing their weapons, opting instead to rush forward with their bare bone claws, Johan might have turned tail on the spot and fled.
Then... the undead that had rushed forward split to either side, clearing a wide path leading to Weisshem's camp.
The undead on the sides even gestured with their bone claws at Johan in the front, making "KABAKABA" noises.
Despite the language barrier, the undead's body language was easy to understand; they were signaling for them to hurry through.
Johan kept repeating his intention to surrender while cautiously observing the undead's actions and anxiously running down the path they had cleared.
The undead still didn't attack him.
Johan gulped. This time, he no longer felt the painful dryness in his mouth and throat.
Civilians, who had dropped their "weapons" like Johan, eyed the undead flanking them with trepidation, but they didn't slow their pace. There were still many people running behind them, and no one dared to stop now.
"This way! This way!"
"Come quick! This way!"
"No pushing! Watch your step!"
The players didn't care whether the NPCs could understand their shouting or not; they enthusiastically waved the NPCs running toward their camp for those potential prestige points.
If a civilian forgot to drop their sharpened wooden stick and ran with the crowd in confusion, players didn't care.
When a civilian accidentally slipped on a dropped stake and fell, the surrounding undead were even more anxious than the civilians themselves, rushing forward to pull the nearly trampled civilian to safety... Losing 50 prestige points for each civilian death was indeed unbearable for them!
This group of forcibly conscripted young and middle-aged men numbered around seven or eight thousand, which might seem like a vast crowd to people of this world, but to Earthlings, especially those from China, it really wasn't much, as any college or university would have more people.
Seeing that the chaotic running of these civilians could easily lead to a stampede, players with experience in organizing school, company, or even public events quickly stepped forward to direct, splitting the crowd into several streams...
Growing up with the experience of lining up and doing exercises from kindergarten, or even nursery, most of them had a sense of how to organize. With the considerate "service" of over a thousand players, in just a few minutes, the several thousand civilians were safely ushered into Weisshem's camp.
Up on the city walls above the west gate, Lord Adra III, personally observing the battle, had his jaw nearly fall to the floor in astonishment.
The city defense force and city police beneath the west gate couldn't see the whole picture. From their angle, they could only see the men charging out, and before any clash occurred, the commoners in their field of vision were quickly replaced by the undead...
The elite teams among the players bypassed the prestige bearing "yellow-named monsters" and directly confronted the "elite monsters" behind, eagerly drawing their weapons.
The city police, who were ferocious against civilians, turned pale and started to flee.
Players were not willing to let these much more rewarding "elite monsters" escape and pounced on them with loud cries.
"Secure the city gate first, then capture them!" Blossoming Strokes, who held command authority among the elite players, called out loudly.
"Understood!" Qin Guan and Brother Lahong, aware that now wasn't the time to hinder each other if they wanted to profit, simultaneously directed their elite players to take action.
Wanderers players, who accounted for the most among the player base, quickly activated their Windwalk skills and rushed out like the wind.
The fastest fleeing city police were still about 50 meters from the gate when several dozen fully-armed wanderer players got hold of them...