I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 745 - 745 744. A bit of a flame_1

Chapter 745: 744. A bit of a flame_1 Chapter 745: 744. A bit of a flame_1 Night Country, somewhere in a fortress.

The insect swarm had already obscured the entire sky, rising from the twisted vegetation of the Black Forest, attempting to gnaw even on stones wherever they settled.

The knights remaining in the fortress had tattered armor; having withstood two waves of insect attacks, already more than half had fallen. Those who remained had hollow eyes and numb expressions, clearly suffering not just in body, but in sanity as well. Even if they were to survive by chance, their understanding of the world would be fundamentally changed, never to return to how it once was.

A knight gazed at the sea of insects beyond the fortress walls, his eyes stirring, then looked down at his longsword, now full of notches from ceaselessly slaying insects, and he felt a wave of weariness.

What was he staying here for?

What was the reason he had been fighting for all this time?

This world would ultimately be devoured and destroyed by demonic beasts; the torment he endured here was meaningless.

He heard faint whispers near his ear, tempting him.

The knight raised his sword, placing it horizontally against his neck.

Those around him noticed his actions, someone stood up wanting to stop him, but hesitated in their movements.

Despair spread, and the knight drew the jagged sword edge across his neck, the rough, notched blade still enough to part flesh and blood gushed forth.

Without a word, the knight’s throat was clogged with blood froth, a hint of final regret flashed in his eyes, his hands desperately clutching at the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His legs kicked out in panic, but slowly he lost his strength, collapsing limply to the ground, meeting the end of his life.

The others looked at each other, unable to claim they hadn’t harbored similar thoughts.

Boom—

Just then, an impact struck, and the wall in front crumbled after being gnawed by the swarm, as the dense mass of insects poured into the fortress. The knights suddenly regretted not following the one who chose to take his own life.

But time no longer gave them any more chances.

Moments later, the fortress was completely razed to the ground; not even the corpses of the knights were left behind, only the howling cold wind remained.

Such scenes were commonplace in the current Night Country.

Such scenes would continue in the Night Country for several more days.

In this world more torturous than Hell itself, even a normal death had become a luxury.

In a village near the Black Forest, two elderly people unable to walk sat on a bench, watching the sky filled with insects, holding hands tightly as they closed their eyes accompanying the dive of the swarm.

In a larger town not too far away, a mother held her child, looking up at the insects flying in midair, her eyes filled with despair.

Even the nobles, seeing the firmament gradually consumed from afar, had no choice but to flee for their lives.

In the face of the Demonic Tide, power, status, strength, identity—all distinctions were erased at the speed of light; only death was the ultimate equalizer.

Sunset Town.

The appearance of the Pale Knights uplifted all the players present.

The assault of the insect swarm seemed to weaken considerably; some insects, finding this area difficult to overcome, turned to wreak havoc other places.

The insects attacking the fortress were thwarted by the players’ various extraordinary and peculiar supernatural items, unable to break through the structure.

A flash erupted from the flag of the Pale Knights, piercing like a dagger through the swarming insects. Light burst forth, forcefully carving a path through the sea of creatures.

The knights advanced toward the fortress at a fast pace, their on-foot speed as if they were on horseback, undoubtedly another effect of magic.

In just a moment, the knights arrived above the town, expanding their barriers and continuously unleashing fire and frost, striking at the insects hovering in the sky and protecting the townspeople below.

Time ticked away by the second.

Even if the defenses of Sunset Town could temporarily hold off the swarm, elsewhere in the Night Country, death and cries of anguish were widespread.

Joester stood atop a high tower; before him lay scattered sheepskin papers, inscribed with the final ritual process of the Magic Network.

In a moment of inspiration, Joester had finally completed what might be the greatest spell ever conceived in the Night Country across all time, past, present, future, any moment, any place.

Now, only to ignite it remained.

But Joester hesitated.

Was such a decision really his alone to make?

He looked into the distance.

The fortress, wavering in the storm of insects, faced relentless waves of Undying players resurrecting from the mire and regrouping to charge into the battlefield.

Above the town, mages held high their banners, facing the surging tide of insects, fearless of death; even if plunged into pollution, they continued to cast spells, protecting the villagers.

Opposite the Gray Tower, on the lookout tower of the stronghold, Lu Ban and others who were helping him were also doing their utmost to break through the insect swarm.

In such a world, he felt out of place.

Joester heard the thunderous sound.

Perhaps because the advance here had been too slow, or perhaps because the presence of the Chosen by Gods had drawn the attention of the Demonic Beasts, in the distance across the horizon, a gigantic insect emerged.

Underneath its chitinous shell lay a soft, mucus-covered body, immense and bloated like a diseased tumor. The insect floated in midair, lowering countless writhing tentacles as if a mass of decaying flesh, emanating a terrifying, sinister aura. Its sixteen eyes looked in various directions, inducing shudders.

There were many such insects.

They floated over like balloons, and the insect swarm parted ways for them, forming empty pathways.

Seeing this scene, Shia’s expression changed slightly.

“Prioritize taking out those bugs,” she said, pointing to the one at the forefront.

Immediately, the magic in her hand crossed a hundred meters and flew towards that bug.

But before the magic could hit, the bug exploded.

Boom—

A flash bright enough to briefly blind someone erupted, followed by a massive boom. The bug exploded like a balloon, and the shockwave, coupled with flames, devoured its kin. The blast wave headed straight for the fortress, causing Shia’s hair to flutter wildly.

In Shia’s era, there were such mutated bugs known as Thousand-Legs. They were relatively slow, but their destructive power was formidable. If there were no Spirit Torches to block them, these swarms could reach the fortress, detonate themselves, and destroy the defenses.

More importantly, with their numerical advantage, these explosions were endless.

Mages could snipe these bugs from a distance using various means, but if even a single one slipped through, all their efforts would be wasted.

In addition, there were other specialized bugs that moved faster, like rolling balls with slightly less destructive power, bugs that specifically devoured magic, bugs that could cut through steel, and those that could conceal themselves.

These bugs usually appeared on the second or third day after the Blood Moon. That was when the real struggle began.

But now, just half a day into the Demonic Tide, these mutated bugs had already appeared on the battlefield.

Boom—

Shia saw a watchtower at the front get hit by one of the exploding bugs. A small mushroom cloud rose, and after the smoke cleared, nothing remained but ruins.

More exploding bugs appeared on the battlefield. Shia didn’t know if this was due to the historical ripples caused by the arrival of the Chosen by Gods; all she knew was that if things continued this way, the damage from this Demonic Tide would be much greater than in history, more territory would be lost, and the butterfly effect might affect even more of the past.

This was the struggle of the Night Country.

Humans might have won for thousands of years, but demonic beasts only needed to win once to determine the outcome.

Whoosh—

From the exploding bugs, several smaller, shuttle-like bugs fell. They were extremely fast and numerous, quickly crossing the swarms, the fortifications, and hitting the magical barrier over the town, striking the Gray Tower.

Boom, boom, boom—

A series of explosions went off. Cui Siter saw under the smoke that the magical barrier, though still in existence, was severely damaged, with cracks forming. The mages inside fought desperately, but the frequency of their attacks decreased as the Corrosion accelerated.

As for the towering Gray Tower, it sustained damage from the explosions, standing like a flickering candle in the wind, on the verge of collapse.

Joester fell to the ground, shaken by the tremors. He landed on the ground, blood flowing from his arm. Joester coughed continuously, blood splattering onto the vellum scrolls, stark and shocking.

He knew it was time.

Joester stood up, positioning himself at the top of the Gray Tower.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Hundreds more of the similar bugs headed for the Gray Tower in erratic trajectories.

They seemed to fear something, to revere something, to dread something, eager to destroy this tower that had not yet served any purpose.

Shia did her utmost to intercept these bugs.

But there were simply too many.

Even one bug slipping through this multitude would cause tremendous damage.

Under the absolute suppression of firepower, even magic seemed pale and powerless.

Boom—

In a lapse, one bug hit the Gray Tower.

Amidst the explosion, debris from numerous buildings flew out.

Shia’s heart lurched with a bad premonition rising within her.

She saw that through the dust, the Gray Tower was riddled with holes, looking as if it might collapse at any moment.

Yet, the Gray Tower still stood.

At that moment, everyone’s attention was drawn to this tattered tower.

At the top of the tower stood a man.

He was clad in a red robe, his face gaunt, and blood still smeared uncleaned around his mouth.

Joester laughed involuntarily.

His laughter came from finally finding the answer.

In this dim, hopeless world shrouded in night, indeed, a spark was needed.

This spark was not from the gods who had forsaken humanity, nor the Ancient Overlords who created the demonic beasts.

This spark, Joester finally understood.

It was himself.