My Players Are So Fierce

Chapter 100:

“Even if you flood the forums with posts, the game time cannot be extended, it just cannot! I’ve already said I’m not the Creator, how can I change this real world according to your whims?”

In the dark river passage of the Blood Vulture Halls, Murphy grabbed the core bead and listened to the wailing complaints from the little players inside.

He sighed himself.

If possible, he would actually prefer for the cute and useful little players to be online 24 hours a day, not only would he have helpers available anytime, but it would also solve the labor shortage.

He might not even feel the loneliness and coldness of being alone in this other world.

However, he was currently just an ordinary test administrator, and the game time and unlocked helmet functions would not obey his commands to be immediately opened.

This depended on the “game progress”, so in the end, instead of complaining here, the little players should work harder for the vampires!

“What are you doing there? Mumbling to yourself, are you going to perform some facial art for me? The expressions you just made were like you saw a debt collector ghost.”

The old knight Finoch’s displeased voice came from ahead.

This golden-tier White Knight was currently standing amid the ruins of ghosts destroyed by the azure purifying flames.

Just now, while the little players were challenging the second BOSS, the Protector Kudel Feodoro Seville Lessenbra, Murphy and the old knight also cleared out this ghost encampment that had existed for at least 300 years.

The specific process was the old knight charging ahead slaughtering the elite ghosts, while Murphy hung back.

It wasn’t that he was intentionally slacking off.

The main reason was that as a black iron-tier novice, when facing these ghosts of hatred who were also black iron-tier but numbered over 50 and were known for being troublesome, his combat strength was indeed slightly inferior.

However, Murphy did participate in the battle.

When a horde of ghosts swarmed, he did defeat three of them in single combat, letting his Tomb Guard Sword Arts experience bar painstakingly rise by one segment. If the old knight hadn’t used a large-area advanced AOE nature spirit technique that forced Murphy to keep his distance from the battlefield to avoid “friendly fire”, his sword arts might have advanced another segment.

Speaking of advancing these sword arts, it was really quite difficult, completely unlike the smooth progression from novice to grandmaster within half a month for the Blood Vulture Sword Arts.

“Why are there so many elite ghosts here? And right in the secret passage of your Blood Vulture holy land, do you vampires manage your own lair so casually?”

The old knight walked through the scattered ashes, the cold remains of purified ghosts as well as materials for casting some dark spirit spells.

Therefore, Murphy was currently using a spirit bag to collect these ashes, and after circling this dark ruin, found nothing except a bag of ancient gold coins.

Faced with Finoch’s inquiry, Murphy rolled his eyes and said:

“How would I know? I’m entering the Blood Vulture Halls for the first time too, I don’t know more about this place than you do. But if you must ask for a reason, I guess these were probably the pioneers from before Kadman City was established 400 years ago.

Tris once mentioned to me when she was drunk that she participated in the design and construction of Kadman City. She said there used to be some mysterious ancient ruins here, and some places were not without strange forces.

Initially, Salrokdar wanted to level those ruins, but later due to the Black Disaster leading to a labor shortage, they just built Kadman City on top of the ruins.”

Murphy crossed this lifeless ruin and explained to the old knight:

“This may be one of those traces from before civilization emerged. The souls of those unlucky ones from a few hundred years ago were apparently trapped here.”

“Makes sense,” the old knight nodded.

“The conditions for forming resentful ghosts aren’t harsh, but large gatherings of ghosts are another concept entirely. Transia is indeed not an area where death spirits congregate. I sense a change in the spirit energies, the exit is probably ahead.

This path is really long, no wonder the vampires didn’t deal with it.

Just this one group of ghosts obstructing it would be enough to stop any unprepared invaders.”

“Yeah, who would expect an ambush down the sewers from a golden-tier expert?”

Murphy said in a teasing tone:

“Are all the other golden-tier experts on the continent as easygoing as you, Old Finoch?”

“You can go ask them yourself, I imagine before using various methods to kill you, they would be happy to patiently answer the strange questions of an endearing little vampire like you.”

The old knight replied in an equally casual tone.

At this moment, the two didn’t seem like hunter and hunted, but more like traveling companions gradually getting to know each other’s sarcastic ways.

They continued trudging in the darkness, and after passing a 90° vertical dark river waterfall, the thick walls of the Blood Vulture Halls appeared again ahead.

This meant this secret passage journey had reached its end.

“We should rest for a bit,” Murphy suggested.

“My warriors need a break, and your witch hunters have been fighting for most of the day. It’s better if we don’t act rashly before they break through the central corridor into the great hall.

I believe in your combat strength.

But I also believe Salrokdar wouldn’t obediently wait alone in the depths of the hall for you to behead him.”

“Fair point, let’s rest for now, then scout ahead.”

The old knight had also expended quite a bit of spirit energy annihilating that group of ghosts earlier.

Although his tier gave him an overwhelming advantage, the costs to himself were real, so he didn’t reject Murphy’s suggestion.

He took out some wood from the edge of the underground dark river and casually summoned purifying flames to create a simple travel campfire.

But then, to the old knight’s surprise, Murphy, who as a vampire should have loathed the light, flew over and sat across from him, even taking out some “lunch boxes” he had prepared earlier and heating them up over the fire.

As the aroma of food wafted out, Finoch’s gaze became even more peculiar.

He said, “These things…you made them yourself?”

“What? Never seen a vampire with cooking skills as good as mine?” Murphy laughed and tossed a few of the boxes to the old knight, saying, “I specifically prepared these vegetarian dishes, feel free to eat, there’s no poison.”

“I believe you, after all no one would be stupid enough to poison a high-ranking member of the Avalon Church. Those of us protected by nature are basically immune to most biological and plant poisons. In fact, if your poison blend is creative enough, I might even compliment its unique flavor.”

Finoch said dimly. He imitated Murphy by placing the meal boxes on the fire to heat up, then took off his oak bucket helmet and fetched water from the nearby river, purifying the underground water source with nature spirit energy.

After that, he saw Murphy nimbly taking out fruits, peeling them, and making a salad for himself across the campfire.

Staring intently for over ten seconds, and seeing Murphy ceremoniously take out a wooden fork, he finally couldn’t help but say:

“Murphy, you really don’t seem like a vampire! Not in any aspect. Were you a human chef before being initially embraced by Tris? Or an excellent traveler?”

“Ah, those things feel like they happened a lifetime ago, let me think.”

Murphy scooped up a plate, using a wooden spoon to put the mixed fruit into his mouth as he ate and reminisced:

“I think I was born into a minor noble family in a small town bordering the Cato region in southern Prussia. I remember we had a decent manor and windmill mill back then. My parents wanted me to grow up following the traditional, classical noble lifestyle, and when I was older they planned to send me to the Bourbon Military Academy in the Goldflower Kingdom to pursue a career.

Then…”

The vampire tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth and said indistinctly:

“The Ten Year War broke out! Suddenly, everything that had been planned just blew away in the wind. The Old Faith rebels entered eastern Prussia, and my father took our family to flee to the Portia Federation but we unfortunately encountered a pack of gnoll bandits on the road.

Heh, a Transian specialty.

That night was truly dismal, and for the first time in my life I became a deserter amidst my family’s cries of anguish.

My memories after that are quite hazy.

I recall joining a group of refugees heading east, ending up in Kadman City’s outer city being bullied by gangs, doing odd jobs to feed myself, and in one winter succumbing to starvation, going to join my parents amidst the laughter of death.

Tris saved me.

To this day I don’t know why she saved me, but after that she became my only family.”

“You sound like you’re talking about someone else’s story,” the old knight said quietly.

“It seems the past isn’t something worth reminiscing or memorializing for you. Additionally, I must warn you that you’re being influenced by the blood pact! You clearly have an abnormal closeness to Tris, the vampiric affliction is eroding your will.

It will turn you into Tris’s lapdog, wagging your tail and begging for her praise.”

“Don’t pry into me and Tris, that’s none of your business, and don’t try to drive a wedge between us! Or should I ask about your story instead?”

Murphy rolled his eyes as he opened the now heated meal boxes, holding up a steaming serving of pork fried rice as he stared at the old knight across from him, saying with some displeasure:

“Don’t you know the rules? I told my story, now you should tell yours, that’s only fair.”

“My story has nothing worth telling, just your story stretched out tenfold, especially the life after sixty, it’s all just boring repetition until one day a surprise arrived.”

Old Finoch smiled, opening his own meal box to reveal a fragrant vegetable stew over rice, picking up a spoon and slurping it down ravenously.

A powerful warrior’s appetite is as unstoppable as their strength, and soon the two servings were devoured. The old knight wiped his mouth with satisfaction, then took out a wooden liquor flask from his spirit bag.

He drank a sip himself, then tossed it to Murphy.

The vampire wiped the mouth disdainfully before taking a drink himself.

Not the potent liquor Tris preferred, just a mellow, sweet and sour fruit wine like a juice.

“The question you really wanted to ask was that one from before, right? About me and Natalie’s relationship.”

In the flickering firelight, the old knight took out a dwarven-style pipe, filling it with fine Shaldor tobacco leaves and lighting it by the campfire. Surrounded by swirling smoke, he said softly:

“Alright, she’s my daughter.”

“Cough cough, pffft!”

Murphy immediately choked, pounding his chest before guzzling another swig of fruit wine to recover.

He was truly shocked.

His eyes shining red in the darkness looked to the old knight in disbelief as he said:

“But you’re over two hundred! Natalie is at most forty years old!”

“Thirty-five, for a pure-blooded Ket who generally lives to 140, that’s just the beginning of life.”

Old Finoch blew out a smoke ring and shook his head, saying:

“Don’t look at me with those lecherous eyes, or I’ll punch you!

The truth isn’t what you’re thinking!

Natalie’s mother was also a white silver-tier Avalon Church saint, and though she didn’t drink from the Holy Grail like me, the advancement of her life form and nature’s blessings allowed her lifespan to easily reach 200 years.

My wife was actually 11 years older than me.

As for only having a daughter in the twilight years of our lives, that can only be seen as Avalon’s blessings manifesting.

With our power tiers, it’s very difficult for our union to produce offspring after combining. The limitations of power are immutable by human means, those powerful beings are always rare, that’s nature’s law.”

“Alright, alright, your Avalon sure governs a lot. Maybe it even has a fertility divinity role.”

Murphy muttered quietly under his breath.

Under the old knight’s glare, he continued:

“But her relationship with you seems bad, I can tell she treats you like a superior with little personal emotion involved. So even golden-tier experts have family issues?”

“That’s my fault, unrelated to Natalie.”

The old knight didn’t want to discuss this issue further.

His silence was a hint for Murphy not to ask more, so the vampire rolled his eyes and changed the subject:

“Tris told me the witch hunters’ current situation is dire. As creations of the Avalon Church, you were undoubtedly implicated by the Old Faith’s rebellion. To avoid execution, you had no choice but to serve as mercenaries for the Goldflower Kingdom in the Ten Year War.

And from what I know, they used you in extremely brutal ways.

As the leader of the White Oak Battalion, have you considered your subordinates’ future?”

“Hm?”

The old knight set down his pipe, giving Murphy, holding the meal box, a peculiar look.

He said, “So what are you getting at? Don’t say anything strange, Murphy, I’ve only just slightly changed my impression of you.”

“What I mean is, if you have nowhere to go, you might as well stay here,” the vampire stated his thoughts.

Old Finoch reached up to cover his eyes in exasperation, saying:

“Oh Avalon above, you really said it, like the ramblings of a delusional madman.

In the Ten Year War, the number of vampires and blood servants killed by witch hunters is incalculable, and our reputation in the Transia region is utterly foul.

I know you were born defiant and hold no love for the Blood Vulture Clan, but what thought process or mental state allowed you to have such an idea? What makes you think witch hunters and vampires can shake hands and make peace?”

“But our recent cooperations have all gone pleasantly, have they not?” Murphy grinned.

“The Smuggler’s Woods, Jed’s gang, and now clearing the Blood Vulture Halls, facts prove the two sides don’t even need to let go of grudges as long as we have common interests to work together. The best part is, even if you bring Salrokdar’s head back to King Louis, all you’ll get is a pardon paper.

But you’ve already been branded as rebels for ten years.

You can’t be so naive as to think the king’s orders would allow you to live peacefully in your homeland, can you?

The war has already changed many things, and it will continue to bring change!

This is not something that can be moved by your will.

Finoch, your subordinates have nowhere to go, while the Transia I have planned will open its embrace to all who are homeless.

As long as you are willing to start your new lives on this land.

I know, compared to King Louis and General Loren, my offer holds little appeal. But for the current witch hunters, having one more choice is always better, right?”

Murphy set down his meal box and said dimly:

“Or would you rather believe the king who has treated you as cannon fodder for the past decade, instead of a vampire opening his arms in friendship?”

“Listen to what you’re saying, Murphy. Your brain must have been damaged by Tris’s evil magic. Why must I choose between two wrong answers?”

The old knight scoffed, no longer responding.

Murphy had the courtesy not to ask further. Until nearly thirty minutes later, when the old knight put away his pipe, stood up to stretch, and said:

“Let’s go, continue scouting.”

Murphy stood as well, belting on the Blade of the Desire Clan. But just as they were about to set off, the old knight suddenly said:

“Have you ever considered it?”

“Hm?”

The vampire looked to old Finoch with a puzzled expression.

Then he heard the old knight putting on his bucket helmet as he said in a gloomy voice:

“Why did the Avalon Church suddenly rebel without any warning? As the state religion of the Goldflower Kingdom, when did they ally with those warmonger nutcases smaller than a kernel of the Portia Federation?

Even the Westerosi savages from the Ice Bay region joined that rebellion, and their beliefs are completely different from the Old Faith! Their conflicting contradictions are no less than between the Old Faith and vampires.

Yet they seemingly became friends overnight.

Too many irregularities are hidden beneath the surface.

Murphy, you need to look past this Ten Year War to see those hidden things.

You think you’re safe, but you’re not! The lurking shadows are calling a storm, and the countless deaths appearing before us are just a light breeze.

War!

This ugly thing is only the most insignificant link in everything happening.

Remember to keep this in mind, and by the way, tell Tris. I think she’ll understand what I mean, but you must remember not to blab about it everywhere or investigate those truths, especially when you’re still weak.”