Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge
Chapter 62: A Guardian, a War, and a Grudge Set Ablaze

Chapter 62: A Guardian, a War, and a Grudge Set Ablaze

The Guardian that Moonlight Beauty mentioned had been discovered by a solo player, a horseback-riding explorer who’d stumbled across it purely by luck. It was the Recluse Isdal—a revolting, foam-slicked slime creature.

When the player spotted the level 16 Guardian, he didn’t dive into battle. Instead, he galloped off to brag about his discovery, shouting to his friends like he’d just struck gold. Truth was, even if he’d charged in, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Word spread like wildfire. Messages zipped from player to player, guild chats blew up, and within an hour, dozens had gathered to take the thing down. But instead of a quick win, the first handful of would-be heroes got wiped out. That only drew more attention. The crowd swelled—fifty, eighty, then nearly a hundred people.

Few players at this point had access to movement-speed items, so most were still hoofing it over on foot, determined not to miss the show.

The forums lit up like a bonfire. Even Orc-side players, far across Blood Gorge, began plotting a route to reach the human-controlled areas. To do that, they’d have to brute-force their way through dangerous high-level monster zones—but that didn’t stop them.

Inside sources claimed that Ironblood Covenant, the Orc faction’s strongest guild, was already mobilizing. Hundreds of elite players were on the move.

And all of this happened to line up perfectly with the moment Ryan and Moonlight Beauty returned to Darkwood Camp.

Ironically, the bigger the crowd grew, the less anyone wanted to actually start the fight. Ryan’s Guardian strategy guide had made the rounds, and people remembered it well. Guardians scaled in power depending on how many players were nearby. With this many? God knew what kind of monster it had turned into.

So the horde kept growing, paralyzed by its own numbers. By the time Ryan caught wind of it, there were already several hundred players swarming around the Guardian.

"Go join that circus if you want," Ryan muttered, shaking his head. "But don’t come crying to me when you get yourself killed instead of getting any loot."

With a smaller group, they might’ve had a real shot. Even with a five-level gap, Ryan was confident that he and Moonlight Beauty could’ve handled it—especially with a decent healer to round out the party.

But now? If he showed up, the crowd would probably throw themselves at the Guardian just to spite him. Hell, they’d happily feed it power just to ruin his shot at the kill. Ryan knew the type. If they couldn’t get the reward, they’d make damn sure no one else did either.

It’s not poverty that breeds resentment—it’s inequality. That’s just human nature.

"They’re them, but you’re Featherlight, guild leader!" Moonlight Beauty said, poking at him. "Maybe you could snatch the kill!"

She wasn’t going to let it go. The curiosity was eating her alive—what kind of loot would a Guardian drop?

Ryan remembered the Recluse Isdal well. This exact scenario had played out in his previous life, though back then, players had only been around level 15. The battle for Isdal had ignited one of the most chaotic wars in Kingdom Forge history—a full-blown clash between humans and orcs.

That day, players burned through everything they had. Stamina bars were drained dry. Out of a million players, only a few thousand still had the energy to keep questing in Blood Gorge afterward.

The fighting had lasted thirteen straight hours. The forums were a battlefield of their own for days. Ryan, personally, had lost over three hundred stamina points just in that single engagement.

The Recluse Isdal had an absurdly wide patrol range. It took over forty minutes for it to cross from orc territory into human lands. Catching it on your side of the map was rare—almost pure chance.

This time, the humans had caught it early, not long after arriving in the region.

Ryan couldn’t help but shake his head at the absurdity of it all. The butterfly effect at work.

One small flap of wings—and here comes the hurricane.

In his previous life, the Guardian had ultimately fallen to the orc players. But this time was different.

This time, the humans had discovered it first—on their turf, deep within human-controlled territory. It felt like fate had flipped the script. A rare chance, like the heavens were handing the humans a gift.

The thought lit a fire inside Ryan.

Back then, he hadn’t even been able to fight back before dying. He’d been helpless. Powerless. And now, the same opportunity was here again, just within reach.

If he didn’t claim his revenge this time... he’d never forgive himself.

"Get all your potions, elixirs, and enhancement items ready," Ryan said. His voice was firm, his eyes locked on the horizon. "We’re heading out. Time to take a look."

He handed off a stack of consumables to Moonlight Beauty, summoned his mount, and surged forward without waiting.

"Hey, guild leader, wait up!"

Moonlight Beauty scrambled to sort through the enhancement items he’d given her. But by the time she looked up, Ryan was already a blur in the distance. Muttering under her breath, she summoned her own mount and hurried after him.

The path was chaos.

Along the way, they saw scattered players caught by monsters they’d aggroed during their rush toward the Guardian. Some fought their way free and kept running, battered but alive. Others weren’t so lucky—dragged down, screaming, before their souls were yanked back to the nearest graveyard, forcing them into a long, stamina-draining corpse run.

But they all had the same goal: reaching the Guardian.

Their desperate trail of destruction led straight to the discovery site—Toxic Pools.

The scene that awaited them was pure madness.

The place was packed with players, shoulder to shoulder, shouting and jostling for space. There was no mob phasing here—no system to let players pass through each other. Everyone had to shove and squirm their way toward the center.

From a distance, the Guardian loomed like a nightmare. The Recluse Isdal—a towering, slime-covered monstrosity—moved slowly but constantly. The whole crowd would shift with it, a massive, rippling organism of its own, trying to stay just out of range.

Screams occasionally burst out when the front lines miscalculated, or someone tripped, and the Guardian lashed out. One misstep, and you were flattened.

No one dared initiate a real fight. Not with this many people nearby. Everyone knew what would happen: the Guardian would snap into berserker mode, ramping up its strength and slaughtering everything in its path.

So they waited. Watched. Inched closer. And when someone got hit, the rest scattered like mice from a trap.

Meanwhile, the tension thickened.

New reports kept flooding in—the orcs were coming. Charging across the map from the other side of Blood Gorge.

At the head of this storm were hundreds of elite players, marching under the banner of Ironblood Covenant. Behind them, a chaotic tide of solo players and smaller guilds followed, desperate not to miss the action.

The journey was brutal. High-level monsters swarmed their path, cutting down the stragglers.

"Get some people to draw those monsters away," snapped Ironblood Warlord, the raid leader. "Tell them we’ll compensate anyone who dies."

His voice was cold, calculating. Sacrifices were just numbers on a spreadsheet to him.

Standing beside him was someone with a very different agenda—Ironblood Falcon.

The very same player Ryan and Moonlight Beauty had humiliated just days ago.

When Falcon heard that a Guardian had spawned in human territory, he didn’t hesitate. He’d called in old favors, leaned on his past connections, and forced his way into the expedition.

He wasn’t here for loot, he wasn’t here for glory. He was here for revenge.

Falcon was convinced that Featherlight would never skip an opportunity like this. The bastard would definitely show up. And when he did, Falcon would be waiting.

He didn’t care if the raid failed. He didn’t care if everyone else died in the attempt. If he could just kill Featherlight once—just once, it would be worth it.

Even if the Guardian turned the entire battlefield into a bloodbath... Falcon would smile.