Chapter 137
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: 13th Floor - Lv. 1120 Lava Hammer Assault Squadron Leader (1)
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I appeared quite a distance away, and the ogre floundered in confusion, unable to spot me right away.
The sky, with all traces of sunset vanished, offered only faint starlight and nothing more.
To find the battlefield, he could simply follow the countless flickering light sources even now. But pinpointing me personally? That would prove a headache.
No need to push myself, so I stayed put in the darkness, observing quietly.
The passage of time, shifts in society, and technological progress had stripped the Greenskins of much, but in exchange, they'd handed them other things.
Ogres are clever. Just lazy.
They could afford to be. But as the era advanced, ogres who recognized the need for diligence began to emerge.
Spotting those elite ogres is simple.
It's whether they have that floppy gut, the hallmark of their race.
Inherently slothful by nature, any ogre who resolves to overcome it becomes obsessively industrious.
They despise their lazy kin, frown at dim-witted trolls, and at least deem orcs tolerable.
Goblins, they'd normally see as fine comrades.
To these awakened ones, the hefty belly evoked by "ogre" is a symbol of sloth—a cursed stigma.
The bodies of these elite ogres, maniacally devoted to training, are tougher than trolls', packed with steel-hard, taut muscles.
In a normal Greenskin society post-technological advancement, ogres and goblins form the backbone.
Goblins possess dwarven handiness in part, human-like creativity, and can even wield mana like young fairies.
Yet thanks to the Federation, goblins—destined for higher stations—were scorned and enslaved.
In that tragedy's wake, the Empire fell fully into ogre hands.
A race fumbling toward wisdom. Ogres, standing alone.
Among them, elite ogres evolved into profoundly strong, intelligent, responsible beings.
Otherwise, they'd lose everything.
The blazing battle spirit in my foe seemed born of such a sense of duty.
I decided to peg these ogres' levels higher than my old intel suggested.
It's a tricky ripple effect: the further we drift from a medieval fantasy world, the more it impacts enemy levels too.
With factors boosting levels, that assessment fits.
"Where are yooouuu?!"
The enraged ogre ignited flames across his body.
Born with the fire element, apparently.
An ogre now fully controlling what was once wild power is formidable.
Blazing flames repelled the encroaching blood tide.
Magical in nature, so magic could counter it somewhat.
Clad head to toe in fire, the ogre resembled a giant of flame.
Flame Giants are a different race, but this was a perfect miniature match.
A clean retreat was off the table. Better kill him here.
The crimson beasts under my control surged.
The ogre burned his vast innate mana to hold back the blood tide.
And finally spotted me.
"Wipe out these monsters now!"
"Can't do it myself? Guess you didn't know."
"Then die!"
Muscles like a troll compressed to three meters exploded against the ground.
Not just raw strength.
His weapon—an obscenely huge rocket hammer, over five meters and dwarfing his frame—belched flames.
Boosting his leap, it propelled him in flight unlike the girl's style.
And insanely fast.
This was already AoE territory.
My body dissolved into bats.
The ogre, as if anticipating, wreathed his weapon in fire.
Flames erupted. The ground warped. The epicenter melted slightly, spewing smoke.
Like a bomb blast.
Few races boast more mana than ogres.
Those flames would burn endlessly.
This ogre, a mana furnace spewing power freely, now shoved back the blood tide, carving out space.
Ironic, really. That power thrives more in the future, where science eclipses all mystery and magic.
In a medieval fantasy world, scarcer population means it'd be quelled as a mere disaster.
But now an ogre wielded both past and future might.
So I'd duly engage.
The Squadron Leader gave his all.
Recalling every vampire trait he knew, he aimed to crush the foe.
The rocket hammer excelled as weapon and transport, sowing destruction effectively.
It churned the earth, illuminating darkness with fire.
Amid writhing crimson fluids everywhere, this fire giant seemed righteous.
A hero burning holy flames to smite evil darkness.
Yet the ogre's innate magic held no sanctity.
Something else did, though.
The Squadron Leader roared, praying to his god.
The world's time dyed savage red—not mere blood, but war's emblematic blaze.
The watching God of War grinned for the first time in ages.
Play this right, and they might eliminate this headache here.
Chances to face this Exile—who'd become the server's core in this future—were rare.
He'd turn every god in the pantheon against him for victory here.
That's war.
The Squadron Leader addressed his god calmly.
Irreverent, impolite—yet the God of War relished even that.
"Know why I cling to this outdated faith?"
「No idea.」
Uncomfortable talk, but familiar.
As server time flows futureward, war gods fade naturally.
Not his first rodeo.
"You could've made the Empire better. But you didn't."
「You know divine greed and Exile habits well—still whining? Anyway, you lot never followed me. Want to trail an Exile?」
The Squadron Leader snorted.
"Hell no. But divine power's real."
「Need power? Why? Borrowing it'd just earn mockery. True strength comes from muscles under green skin, no?」
"Sure. But sometimes you gotta tap the shameful stuff."
He judged coldly: minions were useless.
This Exile's power? Unknown precisely.
But Federation founder, meddler in countless histories? Horrifically strong.
No mere vampire.
High odds he'd lose here.
Yet some fights demand standing against odds.
"I'm an Empire soldier. Empire citizen. Emperor's no concern, but this land's my home."
「Patriotism? Rare.」
"Dragons' asses are heavy; till they move, we hold."
「For what?」
"All Greenskins."
The God of War laughed—genuinely delighted.
True. Lose this war, and what of Greenskins? Rootless brutes adrift in the cosmos—how survive?
Post-goblin collapse, ogres grew wiser, more responsible, it seemed.
Amusing.
Thus, this Exile wielding dark crimson filth seemed the villain.
This ogre? The hero.
From the Exile's view, the God of War affirmed it.
How much plundering had he done pre-godhood?
To Labyrinth Residents, Exiles were evil incarnate.
Shaking their world to its roots.
The Federation? Unparalleled evil empire in that sense.
"Please don't abandon me now, deeming my faith false. God, grant me even a sliver of chance."
But the God of War had to ask.
「Empire goblins aren't Greenskins?」
"Right—one of the ancient Empire's countless sins. Imperfect, but my nation."
「Liberationist here too, huh.」
"Just ignoring as needed; any ogre with principles knows."
The God of War stopped laughing. Even if not purely his, this devotion to country and kin was soldierly exemplar.
Beyond utility, the god felt compelled to grant this ogre more power.
「Hope it goes as you wish. My will aligns with yours.」
As divinity erupted with the flames, I sensed something wrong.
That... an avatar? Divine incarnation?
Sudden blaze rivaling a Grand Saintess left no other guess.
Not some Grand Warrior—just brute-forced descent.
The ogre-turned-avatar boomed divine words.
「Die, Exile!」
"What, avatar? This future piss you off that much?"
「You think I like it?」
Flames now infused with divinity torched my vampire tricks effectively. I took hits, but crimson beasts dwindled fast.
The God of War was shrewd.
Pretend targeting the unpredictable me, but slyly incinerate every beast.
Ground battle won then; even fleet loss meant status quo preserved.
"Cede one server, scheme elsewhere? Fighting me ain't forever—know compromise?"
A figure with scant sway over this era's Empire.
「Pride. Troll honor at stake, Exile.」
"You were human originally!"
「Ha! Pesky mosquito blind to Greenskin glory!」
Crazy—deep in roleplay. But plausible. Exiles obsessed with one race soon identify as it.
Even unadaptable fairies saw humans assimilate like our Hunter.
Anyway, this dragged on badly.
Eradicating planet's Greenskins tricky; value would fade.
Food ever critical—Empire might settle there.
But more. Sudden assault meant prep.
One planetary fortress? Nah. Dragons might stir.
First, beasts must multiply, sweep the surface.
Goblins/orcs omnivores; ogres/trolls carnivores. Livestock fodder then.
Planet shifts to goblin food-gen only.
Fine, fight. Avatar's tough. But elite ogre humbly devout?
Unlikely. Meat puppet half-assed faith? Weak sauce.
God of War's an evil god anyway.
No holy god's undead lethality.
I dissolved into blood.
Vampire flesh—blood itself—shifted forms.
Unlike murky crimson beasts: scarlet wolf.
[Lord of Blood]'s myriad subskills buff blood summons.
Vampires equate flesh to summons. Shapeshifting's basics.
Thus buffs apply.
Five-meter shoulder height, I charged as wolf.
Already bulkier than trolls.
Holy-flame rocket hammer accelerated.
Ogre plummeted; I planted paws, swung forelimb full force.
At tip, martial mana flowed. Neutral directional blast countered flames.
Nonhuman joints/muscles. Power paths differ. Quadruped blocking overhead? Disadvantage.
Yet evenly matched—instant.
Physics clashed; mana canceled.
Shock rippled beyond us.
Like airstrike. Debris heaved; beasts repelled.
But unrecognizable beasts salivated at live flesh.
Blood-clot undead still "alive" to them.
No-exit death arena.
Brief hover—avatar pulled hammer trigger.
Blast; rear thruster ignited. High-grade gear.
Magical flames no issue; action-reaction propelled.
Claws ground first—crunch.
Then avatar released hammer.
Sudden—I was late.
Unfamiliar wolf form, excuse.
Skull nearly pulped.
Won't die, but vision issue.
Log-thick, jagged leg—cannon-shot—grazed fur.
Twist head, chomp leg.
Ogre reclaimed hammer.
Bang—body nearly shredded.
"Whoa, this ain't fun."
Regenerated human form afar, grumbling.
Physical Greenskin brawls? Awful mismatch. Racial base stats too wide.
[Lord of Blood] buffs aside, high-level ogre's no joke.
[Dieeee!]
Distance closed in a flash.
I asked Nature God to step aside; linked to Goddess.
World drowned in chaos-purple. God present—time halted.
Goddess spoke.
「Avatar? If I lend my body.」
"Deal. But screw up, I take over?"
「Watched War punk since diapers. Got whacked by my spear, bawling—yesterday.」
"Old vibes. Yeah."
「Live young, stay young.」
"Saying that proves old."
「La la! Can't hear! Century-old yokai you!」
Anyway, the goddess descended.